Part I

Flying is just not fun. The security lines, the delays due to weather/crew/the airlines just hating you and wanting to screw up your day even more. It’s just not fun. And sadly, I do way too damned much of it. I own my own company (web-based merchant), and it seems like I’m always on the road for a meeting, to check out a new supplier, to try to find a bank that understands that I’m not going to put myself out of business meeting their credit terms. So over the past 5 years, I’ve racked up better than 100K miles in the air each and every year.

Whoopie. Five more and I’ll hit the “You fly way too damned much” level on my preferred airline’s frequent flier program. All I can say is – thank the dear, sweet lord for noise canceling headphones and upgrades to first class.

So I was particularly surprised on a recent flight to find myself having what I can only describe as a good time. Particularly given my pissy emotional state prior to boarding. Allow me to explain.

I’d been dating Marie for the better part of three years. I met her as I wrapped up my MBA (better to schmooze the banks and investors with) and we seemed to hit it off. I’m reasonably attractive, she was downright pretty, and we shared some interests. Over time, we got intimate and the sex was good.

The problem was – Marie hated when I traveled and was dying for me to put a ring on her finger. I wasn’t about to stop traveling – I risked falling behind my competition if I did – and while I really, really liked Marie, I just wasn’t sure I was ready to make her half-owner of everything I had.

And she’d apparently finally had enough. I’d booked a four week vacation in one of my favorite cities at no small expense. A suite in the exclusive part of the hotel that included a chef and a butler and a concierge who would cater to just about any desire we had (not cheap), a car service set up with an account to get us to and from where we wanted to go, and tickets to a couple of shows she’d wanted to see and I wouldn’t gouge my eyes out sitting through. So, of course, two days before we’re supposed to get on a plane, she dumps me. Over the phone. Something about lacking commitment and being an insensitive cad.

I’m not sure I blame her, but that doesn’t take the sting out of it. While I don’t know that I ever would have proposed, there was that chance and I still enjoyed her company. But for whatever reason, she’d decided she’d had enough and that she wasn’t going to “leech off me” for this great trip and then dump me afterward.

How thoughtful of her. Instead, I end up deciding to take the trip anyway. Partly since I haven’t had a real vacation in about six years, partly to spite her and have a good time even if she isn’t in my life or my bed. I hit the bar in the airport before boarding, of course, and remembered that if I was too hammered, they wouldn’t board me after my third vodka tonic in an hour.

For whatever reason, there was just about nobody on my flight, which blew my mind. In these days of crowded planes, reduced routes, and growing travel, I was amazed that there only seemed to be twenty people in the boarding area. I thought I overheard one of the gate attendants talking about a charter group with a broken down bus, but to be honest I couldn’t have cared less.

What really amazed me was being only one of two people in first class once we boarded. I’ve seen empty seats there before, but this was ridiculous. But I figured I was lucky for two reasons.

First, the other passenger was an attractive young woman – I’d guess twenty-five – in a very sharp outfit. Red hair, green eyes (lord, I do love the Gaelic look), smooth skin, wrapped in a very attractive knock-off Armani skirt suit and nylons. Her hair was up, but you could see it had some volume to it and probably would be shoulder length or longer. Not a SI swimsuit model, but she’d get her share of attention in a bar.

Second, the only other passenger in first class just happened to be seated next to me. Go figure.

Since the stupid FAA rules keep you from having your noise cancelling headphones on during taxi and take-off, and since that included the version that I own, I tried to hide the fact that I was looking at her legs by reading the airline magazine. She chatted with a friend on her cell phone about her vacation as well. She wrapped up as the door to the plane was closed, and turned directly to me after stowing her phone in her purse.

“So, Stephen, do you like the legs, the nylons, the skirt, or some combination of them all?”

I couldn’t help but look shocked when she spoke my name, which made her smile (and a lovely smile at that). She laughed and pointed at the seat pocket in front of me – my portion of the boarding card stuck out where I’d jammed it in enough to leave my name exposed.

I smiled and laughed as well. “That’s pretty direct, isn’t it?”

“Well, m’ boy, I figure that there’s 11 other seats in this cabin available. I can either figure out if I want to sit next to you before we hit our cruising altitude or I can determine if I’ll just hide my legs from your view.”

That made me laugh. “Fair enough, but I think it only fair that you let me know you’re name so I’ll know who’s legs I’m not looking at.”

“Karyn with a ‘y.’ My mother wanted to curse me with a name I’ll spell for the rest of my life.”

We fell into exchanging the basics. I told her what I did, why I was on the plane, and a bit about my background. She shared that she was a post-grad at a local university working on her dissertation and was taking a much needed break from being a teaching assistant and writing “her book.” Just as we hit the end of the runway and the plane’s engine’s really ramped up, she asked “So why exactly are you half in the bag?”

The meaning escaped me for, so I opted for the polite “Pardon?” instead of “Wha?”

“You’ve been drinking, and a decent amount. Do you have a problem? Are you celebrating? Mourning? It’s barely 2:00 so I suspect something’s up.”

“You’re very direct, aren’t you,” I asked.

She smiled again, “Yep. But then, for a high-powered business-type like you I suspect that’s the best way to get your attention.”

I smiled back and said, “I suppose it is.”

And for some reason I started sharing the Stephen and Marie story as we cleared 5,000 feet. Karyn listened closely, nodding here, tsking there, as I shared the abbreviated version of our three years.

“So she wanted more than you were ready to give, eh?”

“I guess so. I don’t know that I know what she wanted, to be honest.”

“Did she discuss marriage?”

“Well, yes, but it never seemed very concrete or immediate.”

Karyn smiled at that – not the nice, happy smile, but the lips-pressed together, “you’re a bit dense, aren’t you?” smile.

“The fact that she brought it up should have made it fairly concrete and immediate, shouldn’t it,” she asked with that smile on her face.

I think I scowled. “I suppose. I just figured she’d push it more than she did if it were really important.”

“You’re dense,” she said laughing. We both took a break to order drinks from the flight attendant – champagne for her, another vodka tonic for me.”

“Stephen, you’re a bright, successful businessman. How exactly did you not figure out that was important to her?”

“She didn’t push it. She just brought it up about once a month over the past year. Sometimes not even that.”

“And your response was…”

“That I could see us getting married, but needed some more time.”

“What would the time buy you?”

“I don’t know. Time to feel more like marrying her.”

At that, Karyn sat back in her seat with a thoughtful look on her face. I waited a moment to let her think, but finally had to butt in.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmmm? Oh, just that I bet I can point out exactly what was missing in your relationship, but I’m not sure if I want to. It might be better to show you.”

I laughed. “We’ve known each other half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes and you’re so certain?”

“Oh, yes. And besides, if I show you it’ll give you a chance to have these legs close to you for a while. If I decide I really like you, maybe even more than that.”

Now this was a gift I wasn’t about to pass up.

“Really? How would you arrange that?”

“That place you have booked have more than one bedroom?”

“Yes. It’s a suite. You’re not seriously…”

“I am. The place I’m headed for is a dump by comparison. So here’s the deal.”

She spelled it out nicely and clearly. She’d join me at my hotel so long as she had her own key and it was understood that I wasn’t to enter her room unless invited. She was meeting friends the first two days we were in town and couldn’t spend any real time with me until the third day, and I’d do my best to leave her alone before then. When that third day rolled around, she’d start showing me what she meant.

“OK,” I said. “I’m game. What happens if you’re wrong?”

She smiled. “Want a wager, do you? Something that puts things on the line? Fine. If I’m right, you have to do what I say until it’s time for me to head home. If I’m wrong, you get to screw me and kick me to the curb. Or not. We might decide that’s fun enough for both of us.”

I happily agreed.

The hotel was everything that I’d heard. The suite was glorious – with two bedrooms, a living room that flowed into a dining room with an attached kitchen, and a balcony with a glorious view of the city’s main park. Karyn was suitably impressed and gushed about the design and some of the artwork. We both settled into our rooms and quickly called it a night.

When I awoke the next morning, I neither saw nor heard her. I figured that she’d already headed out to meet her friends and got my day under way myself. A nice walk in the park, a quick check-in with the office (business owners never really vacation), and then some pretty aimless wandering. When I got back to the suite a few times, I could see that Karyn had come & gone – dirty dishes or a glass out of place. When I headed back for dinner she’d left a note on the table.

“Stephen,

“Sorry I haven’t seen you today, but I just keep missing you. I’ll be out very late, so don’t hold up dinner or anything else for me.

“Karyn”

So I ate alone, took in a movie, and headed for bed.

The next day was a repeat of the first. No sign of my attractive roommate, so I again checked in with the office. My secretary let me know that I had a few voice mails, one of which sounded urgent. I decided to ignore the fact I was supposed to be on vacation and had her transfer me. The first two were routine supplier questions that I forwarded along to the right people, making a note that I needed to have a word with the help – they shouldn’t have hit my voice mail in the first place. The third was marked urgent, and listening to it was when I realized that I’d made a number of mistakes.

It was Marie, and she was none too pleased. She was crying as she called me a callous bastard and other names. Apparently, she’d sent a message I don’t remember receiving that asked me to give her a call after we’d talked. Not only had I not responded, but when she called the hotel to reach me and learned that I’d checked in with a guest, she’d drawn the conclusion that I thought so little of our relationship that I’d already moved on. Her last sentence started with “And to think I was considering asking you to talk about getting back together…”

So breaking the rule I’d made about not checking voice mail had turned into a mistake on many fronts. My ex was pissed and crying, any chance that I’d had of mending things (if I’d decided that was the right thing to do) was gone, and my day was officially ruined before I’d really gotten it started.

So I did what I’d restrained myself from doing at the airport, opened the bar in the suite, and promptly got good and plowed. I had the foresight to leave a note for Karyn with a brief explanation so that if she stopped by she wasn’t surprised at my condition.

I cried a little, but not much. I was more angry than sad. I recall punching a pillow hard enough to break a seam (which the hotel would surely overcharge for). I railed at nobody for a while, and typed a particularly acidic e-mail to Marie that I had enough sense not to send. Drinking vodka or gin in some fashion all the while. At some point, I’d drunk enough that I either passed out or blacked out.

I woke up with a splitting headache and a vague sensation that something wasn’t quite right. My mouth was dry, but felt like I’d tried swallowing a sock or something. Afraid that I’d done something horribly stupid and tried to suffocate myself, I did my damndest to make sure my airway was clear…

…only to find my arms wouldn’t move. I opened my eyes and noticed with some relief that I was at least still in my suite. In the den, specifically, facing the large-screen TV apparently, from a standing position. I shook my head, regretted it immensely as my head throbbed, and started looking around. A flash of red near my feet drew my attention, and I looked down.

I was stunned by what I saw. Karyn was busy applying what looked to be plastic wrap around my lower legs and ankles, welding me to the decorative column that I could now feel behind me. I grunted at her, realizing that the cloth feeling in my mouth was some type of gag. The tone was obviously angry.

“Relax, Stephen. I’m not about to rob you or violate you or anything else of that nature. Unless, of course, that’s where things go. Be silent for a moment and I’ll explain.”

I decided I’d disobey as I took in my predicament. My upper body was already completely wrapped to the pole, and though my hands were free, I could see plastic wrap surrounded them as well. A gap right around my midsection was unwrapped, allowing me to see my manhood as I realized I was completely naked. Only about six inches of skin were exposed, and then the wrap resumed all the way to my ankles, holding me quite fast to the pole. Even where the wrap didn’t hold me to the pole, I could see the thin film around my legs.

I hollered and shouted and screamed, all the while trying to ignore the drumming this caused in my head. Karyn looked up with a smile that reflected pity and humor at the same time, but returned to her work. I heard plastic tearing as she finished. Despite my struggles, I couldn’t work myself free even with some limited movement of my hands.

“It’s so nice that they’ll shop for you here. I figured you’d be in a state when you finally recovered enough, so I had them get a lot. Five rolls of plastic wrap ought to do for a while. I did order some stuff for the kitchen as well, but you could hear the question in the concierge’s voice as she read my list back.”

She stood and I finally got a good look at her. I hadn’t completely realized that the lights in the room were fairly dim, and she was wearing a dynamite looking long nightgown. While it covered everything it was sheer enough and loose fitting enough that one’s imagination didn’t have to go far to picture her out of it. I could see the shadowy curves of her breast through the material from the light behind her, and I’m pretty sure that I could make out nipples and areola as well.

I hadn’t stopped my rant as she stood and spoke, but the sight of her there was stunning enough that even with more than a fair bit of a hangover I had to stop to process it.

“You’re quiet, that’s good. I want you to be silent now and I’ll explain as I finish up.”

She took the half-consumed roll of plastic wrap in her hands and picked at the end as she spoke.

“It didn’t take long for me to figure you out Stephen. I suppose it was because you were just shy of legally drunk,” she moved behind me as she spoke and worked, and I finally heard the sound of the wrap coming away from the roll as she found the end.

“You weren’t on your game, though. In your line of work I’m sure you usually don’t wait nearly three days to ask someone for more information about them.”

I felt the wrap start to move around me, starting with my left hand and heading towards my right. Karyn spoke as she walked slowly back into view, focusing more on the wrap than me. For whatever reason, I decided not to struggle, probably more than a bit of it due to the mere sight of her.

“You see, I had you figured out pretty quickly, particularly the story about Marie. I am sorry about whatever mix-up happened, but that probably puts things out of reach now, doesn’t it?”

I found myself nodding, though I’ve no idea if she actually saw it.

“You see, Stephen, I’m getting my PhD in psychology with a particular focus on sexual relationships. My dissertation is on power in emotional relationships and how an imbalance there can ruin a relationship for both parties.”

She paused in front of me, having closed the gap that she’d left earlier, and looked into my eyes. She was smiling in a manner that was both amazingly sexy and somehow a little bit frightening.

“So when I came back this afternoon a bit early and found your note, I figured you’d be a wreck. You held all the cards with Marie, right?”

As she asked the question, I realized she was right and nodded. I had the money, I had the apartment that I insisted we stay at, I set the schedule for where we’d go. Marie hadn’t been a servant, but she’d had almost no voice in things.

“See? I’m pretty good at what I do. So what you need is to meet a woman that isn’t afraid to exert power over you. The fact that you were good and drunk when I came in made it pretty easy to convince you there was sex in the mix and get you over here. And when I’d gotten your chest nicely secured, you were kind enough to pass out and make the rest a bit easier.”

She stopped in front of me again. “But I’ll bet you don’t even remember that, do you?”

I shook my head. She smiled that smile again and resumed walking around me. Apparently, she’d decided the gap was closed enough since she started moving the wrap up and down around me, apparently aiming to use the last of the roll, which was fast approaching.

“You see? I could never have talked you into this when you were sober. Even if you thought you would get into my pants, you’d never allow it.”

The wrap crept up my chest, coming alarmingly close to my neck. I began to struggle, hoping that something would tear. Karyn stopped in front of me again.

“Stephen, do you remember our little wager? If I was right about you, then you’d do anything that I’d say, right? And I am, aren’t I?”

I refused to respond either way, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to admit the truth.

“Ahhh, trying to be clever. Even now, you’re looking to exert power over me despite the fact that there’s quite literally none for you to exert. If I hadn’t wrapped your dick down between your legs, I bet you’d be fully at attention for having a woman take such command over you.”

I suddenly realized what she meant. With my head hurting and my eyes focused on her, I hadn’t even noticed the details of the position she’d chosen for my penis, even as I’d watched her apply layer upon layer of plastic wrap.

“You see, I’ve even got power over whether you get hard or not. So you’re going to abide by the terms of our deal and let me finish welding you to that pole. I’ve learned a thing or two in my research and I’ll guarantee you that no harm’s going to come to you. Just take a deep breath and hold it for a few minutes and when I’m done, I’ll finish explaining things.”

I struggled more for a minute, and she stood back a bit as she let me. Just long enough for it to really sink in that I wasn’t getting loose without outside help. Then she grabbed my chin and gently guided my head back so that it barely contacted the pole. Reluctantly, I let her.

She quickly threw three loops of wrap over my face, then paused to punch a hole and enlarge it just under my nose. The process repeated two more times, and then she wound her way down until the wrap was gone, which only made it to the small of my back.

She leaned in close on my left side, and despite the wrap I could feel the softness of her breasts press against me.

“So here’s the new deal, Stephen. You need to learn to enjoy having a woman that has power over you in your life. Otherwise, you’re unlikely to ever have a truly successful relationship that progresses to marriage. And if you do make it to your wedding, it’s currently likely to fail unless you marry a dolt that will never question you. But that’s not the conquest you like, is it?”

I could feel her start to rub her hands over me, paying particular attention to my cock and buttocks. Amazingly, I could feel a great deal despite my imprisonment. I started to grow hard, only to have the wrappings prevent it. She smiled as I groaned and struggled again.

“Since I happen to be one of the few people with the right training to help you overcome yourself, I’ll spend the rest of your vacation working with you on your ‘problem.’ Since I find you interesting and a bit attractive, maybe we’ll even go beyond that.”

She broke contact and moved to stand in front of me.

“I’ve called off all the servants here until lunch time tomorrow. You’ll stay like that tonight and we’ll figure out what comes next when I let you go. I’ll check in on you to make sure you’re OK, and when I’m ready you can give me your answer.”

She paused, and I chose that moment to whimper. She smiled.

“I know,” she said as she advanced and caressed my cheek. “You’re not used to a woman willing to assert herself. But trust me…” she turned and began to walk away…

“…it’s really for your own good.”

I thrashed against my bonds, desperately wishing that I could at least get hard and get some pleasure. But as I watched her door close through the haziness caused by the plastic wrap, I realized that I was completely powerless. And while that made me angrier than I think I’d ever been, somewhere something else started to stir…


Part II

My night wasn’t a comfortable one, and not just in a physical sense. In addition to the layers and layers of plastic wrap that Karyn had trapped me in, the decorative pole that occasionally dug into my back, the fact that I was both tired and fighting a hang-over simultaneously – on top of all of that I had little to do but stand there and think in the dim light of the living room. And while I probably needed to do some of that, it’s one thing to do it because you need or want to, it’s quite another to do so because you’ve been physically welded to a pole and have to face some of your inner demons.

Of course, I suspect this was exactly Karyn’s intention, which made me positively livid. How that petite slip of a woman had managed to get me this way could only be written off to my own stupidity and impulsiveness. I hadn’t asked enough questions when we met, I certainly hadn’t thought through accepting her offer to join me at my hotel suite, and I really hadn’t considered what an absolute stranger might do when you get completely hammered on them.

I’ve been a world class idiot for at least 72 hours, and that’s not something a successful, intelligent, reasonably attractive businessman really wants to face up to.

But there really wasn’t much that I could do about it, short of pulling futilely on the plastic wrap and occasionally attempting a shout through my gag. So I stood in the semi-darkness and watched my inner demons emerge.

I thought about my relationship with Marie and what Karyn had said about who held the power.

I thought about my approach to Karyn in the brief time I’d known her and the fact that I had been looking forward to manipulating her into a quick fling because she was damned attractive.

I thought about why it was I was so damned pissed about the end of my relationship with Marie.

And despite the fact that I really didn’t want to, I thought about the fact that every time I struggled, I found a small jolt of erotic pleasure run through me, and one that seemed to grow over time and with the feeling of increased helplessness.

How much frigging wrap had she used, anyway? While I’d be unconscious for much of the work, I tried replaying the wrapping I had seen in my mind to figure it out. I mean, this is stuff that I use to store leftovers in the fridge and I tear without much effort when I’m using it. But here I was, reasonably fit, made one with a fairly uncomfortable pole with a film of plastic just a hair’s width thick.

Then I started getting pissed at Karyn. I was pissed that she’d done this to me in the first place. I was pissed she hadn’t been considerate enough to drop a pillow or three behind me so the occasional ornament didn’t dig into my flesh when I struggled.

But I was really, really pissed that she’d held my manhood down and wrapped it in a position where any state of arousal was completely impossible. At least, it was unless I achieved superhuman erectile strength, burst through the plastic and could finally get some sense of relief. Either that or I’d have to somehow grow razorblades in a few strategic locations.

I dozed a bit, too. Sleep isn’t the right word for what happened in my predicament. It was “nice” (and I use that term very, very damned loosely) that she’d wrapped my head to the pole. It let me relax my neck without it dropping to my chest and creating nasty kinks. And that probably helped me get any form of rest at all. But when you try to shift positions and nothing moves, plus there’s the accompanying “crinkling” noise from the wrap that’s holding you, you don’t really sleep. You doze. I figure I might have napped for two or so hours as the clock on the DVD player ticked off the time from just before ten PM when I’d started coming around to the present, which as just after seven.

I was a bit groggy, I was pissy, and surprisingly, I was pretty damned horny and frustrated.

So when the muffled sound of the bedroom door reached my ears, my reaction was quite mixed.

Karyn emerged wearing the same dynamite red nightgown she’d had on the night before. For some reason it hadn’t registered to me that it was floor length before, which did nothing to detract from it. The light behind her in the night had silhouetted her legs marvelously, so the material wasn’t all that thick. In the brighter light of the day, it wasn’t nearly as see-through, though.

Still – horny and frustrated moved a bit more to the forefront of my mind upon seeing her.

Maddeningly, she waved to me on her way to the kitchen with a smile on her face. It wasn’t a “cat got the canary” or shit-eating grin, which is what I would have really expected. Particularly if Marie had done this to me. It was just a regular, “Good morning” kind of smile.

I heard some fiddling in the kitchen and in a few minutes she returned, holding two large glasses of orange juice, one with a straw in it. She set them down on a nearby end table and stood right in front of me.

“Stephen, I know you’re probably many things right now and one of them is pissed as hell. That’s fine. But when I take the gag out of your mouth to talk, if you scream or shout even once I’m going to kick you in the balls so that you’ll open your mouth and I can put the gag back in. So let’s be adult about this, OK? If that doesn’t happen I can have you completely helpless again while I pack up, get the hell out, and you can wait for the maid service to hit the room. Grunt three times if you understand that and agree to those terms.”

Left with little choice, I took a deep breath to work on control and grunted three times.

“Good. Let me grab one of the chairs so I can sit down in front of you, and we’ll work on getting that gag out and giving you some OJ.”

She headed back to her room for a moment, returning with a pair of scissors in her hand. She pulled over one of the more portable chairs, a nice arm chair with a padded back and seat, then held up the scissors. They had a rubber tip on the bottom tip - medical shears.

“These won’t likely cut you, but if you move and rub against them they might. So hold still.”

She pierced the wrap by the base of my neck with the unprotected tip, then began cutting around me and the pole. When she’d created a complete circle, she went around to the back and obviously cut upward, then removed the wrap around my head. That left the wrap that was around my mouth and face, which she snipped carefully up my cheek.

When she pulled out the gag, I realized it was a washcloth that had been carefully folded. The fold was to the back of my mouth, and apparently the ends had hung outside my cheeks.

“Makes it hard for the thing to slip,” she said. “I didn’t want you choking. OJ first? Or talking?”

My voice was a bit crackly from being parched, and I had to clear my throat before I could talk.

“OJ. Why the hell did you…”

“You said OJ first, so let’s see to that. Remember, Stephen, I’m in control and you’re just going to have to accept that.”

She held the glass up and got the straw into my mouth. I began to drink greedily – the dehydration from the drinking and being this way all night had me parched. As I did, she talked.

“I told you, Stephen, I know what your problem is. Making you a statue with no power was just the perfect way to illustrate it. You’re a power-mad man, you know? OK – that’s an exaggeration, but it’s not too far from the truth.”

I stopped drinking. “What the hell do you mean?”

She held the straw up again, a warning look in her deep green eyes.

“Do two things – drink and watch your tone.”

I decided to comply. I thought I saw a hint of a smile on her face as she resumed speaking.

“You’re a pretty classic A-type personality. Ambitious, driven, successful. But most of all, you’re controlling. You want to have control over your situation, you expect others to defer to you, you assume a leadership role whenever you can. You enjoy being in the lead. Probably way up there in your high school and college class not just because you’re bright but because you pushed yourself to be there. Stop me when I’m saying something that’s not true.”

The OJ was gone, and I figured I could speak again.

“All right, but what the hell does that have to do with this Karyn?”

“Tone’s better, but could still improve.”

She sat in the chair and put the glass back on the table.

“It’s really simple, Stephen. Your relationship with Marie failed because you weren’t equal partners. You were in control, she did what you wanted, and maybe on rare occasions you did something she enjoyed because you knew it was the right thing to do. But when you did those things you didn’t invest in them, didn’t try to enjoy them, probably didn’t even go very far out of your way to make sure she enjoyed them. Again, stop me if I’m wrong.”

I stood silently, the thoughts of the last night replaying themselves in my head.

“So you see, it was inevitable that your relationship failed – you were the only one with a vote on anything. Marie just ‘hung around’ because she didn’t know what else to do and didn’t have the strength to assert herself.

“So your fit of anger that got you completely shit-faced last night wasn’t because you were really sorry the relationship ended. OK, maybe a bit. It was because you didn’t end it. And then she’d been allowed to find out that I was here and really end it. You had no control over what unfolded, no say in what happened in your life, and it drove you positively crazy angry.”

I stared at her as she delivered this like she was discussing a shopping list – matter-of-fact and without any hint of anger, sympathy, or much emotion at all. And that pissed me off, too.

“And how do you know all this in such a short period of time,” I asked.

She looked at me for a quiet moment, then got up and walked over to the couch where the pillow with the broken seam was.

“Do you always punch the accessories to the décor until they break? Do you always get so drunk that you border on needing medical attention? Do you always pick up an attractive woman on a plane and invite them to spend four weeks with you when you travel?”

It took me a moment to realize she was waiting for an answer.

“Well, no, but…”

“Stephen, I’ve was training to be an MD when I decided I preferred therapy. I’m specializing in power dynamics within relationships for a couple of reasons. First of all, it’s interesting.”

As she spoke she dropped the pillow and slowly walked to stand in front of me.

“Second of all, there’s thousands and thousands of men like you that end up having a mid-life crisis that makes small atom bomb tests look like a firecracker when you realize that there’s a large portion of your life that’s unfulfilled, and you’ve all got a good income. So it’s a growth market for me. And that’ll let me do things like help people like Marie learn how to assert themselves positively because she couldn’t afford the same rates.”

“Karyn, you’re talking a bit crazy…”

She smiled, and leaned in against me.

“Really? You’re many things right now, aren’t you? You’re pissed at me, number one, but with my body and my breast rubbing up against you right now I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that if I cut your willy free he’d stand at full attention.”

I started to open my mouth to protest, but she put her finger up against my lips, an impish smile on her face.

“Don’t object. We’ll let the evidence speak for itself. Hold still.”

She retrieved the scissors, and I was surprised that I was sorry she’d ended the contact. I struggled as she went to get the shears, barely resisting the urge to speak. She returned the two steps with them in her hand, and knelt in front of me. I forced myself to hold still.

“Karyn, I don’t…”

“Just be quiet, Stephen. The proof is in the pudding.”

She carefully opened a slit that went from the head of my penis up to the base between my legs. The metal of the scissors was cold on my skin, but that was quickly replaced by the warmth of her hand as she finagled it out of its imprisonment. Then she let go of it quickly and stood up.

“You see, I don’t even need to touch it right now, Stephen. I just need to walk around you,” which she promptly began to do, “speak in a soft, sultry tone of voice,” which she also did, “and let my hands run over other parts of your body. In this nightgown, with you helpless and in my power, with you wanting so badly to put your manhood to use on me…”

She returned to my front and leaned into me again, her breast brushing against my chest as the pressure of her body touching me increased.

“…it’s more than your libido can take. You’re enjoying being completely out of control and hoping I’ll let this go further.”

With that, she glanced down and smiled. I didn’t need to to know that I was fully erect and throbbing slightly. If she’d touched my penis, I may very well have moved on to exploding.

She looked back up at me with a smug grin.

“I’ll give you that I’m turned on, but I’m not going to admit anything other than a fantasy aspect is at work.”

She smiled.

“Really? I don’t think you’re being honest. You’ve been here for nine hours. You’ve had nothing but time to think, to stew, and to get angrier and angrier. I’ve worked with men in counseling who wouldn’t have been excited right now, they’d be furious.”

She broke contact with me again and went over to grab the other glass of orange juice. Then she sat down.

“You’re angry Stephen, there’s no doubt about that. But isn’t it a bit telling that you’ve barely struggled since we started talking? Even subconsciously? You’ve barely tried to move at all, in fact. The only time you’ve made any effort to break free is when I was about to expose your arousal to you – not to me mind you, to you.”

She stood up, put the straw in the glass after taking a sip and offered it to me. I decided I was still thirsty enough to drink about a gallon of it, and took it.

“And the moment that I did expose things, we went from struggling to acceptance.”

The glass was empty, so she lowered it and turned to put it on the end table. I decided to protest.

“I’ll give you a fantasy side of this, Karyn, but…”

Her finger was on my lips again.

“I’m not quite done. There’s an even more telling point, Stephen. You’ve not once called me crazy for doing this to you, threatened to call the police, or hinted much at raising your voice. In the nine hours you’ve been like this, you’ve done some uncomfortable thinking in a position that’s uncomfortable both physically and mentally for you. And yet you’ve pretty much accepted it without a significant protest. Just admit it Stephen – you’re a more than a bit of a control freak, the break up and the night you just spent convinced you of it, and you’re actually at least somewhat interested in finding out what it’s like not to be in control.”

I opened my mouth to reply at how nuts that was, then had to close it. In a strange way, this made a great deal of sense. I opened it to say something again, only to discover she’d grabbed the washcloth sometime I wasn’t playing close enough attention and it was making my way back into my mouth. I started to struggle a bit, but she grabbed my chin and looked me in the eye.

“Your therapy’s just beginning, Stephen, but right now, we both need some breakfast and you’ve a great deal to think about. So I’m going to leave you to think a bit more while I fix a bite to eat and when it’s ready, I’ll cut you free from that pole. Then we’ll discuss whether you want to live up to your end of our bet and do what I say for the next three weeks and four days. If not, I can be gone today.”

She grabbed a roll of plastic wrap from under the end table where I hadn’t been able to see it and began to put it to use. I was about to struggle madly, try to spit the gag out, and raise a ruckus until I recognized one something – I was more aroused than I think I’ve ever been. So I stood stock still and let her replace the wrapping around my face.

“See? You’re already starting to get it. And if I decide I like you as much as my gut impression is, eventually, we’ll do something about your poor, neglected manhood.”

I watched her red nightgown recede into the kitchen, and struggled against my bindings. Somehow, it felt different than just an hour ago, and not in a bad way.

I stood quietly, wrapped to my pole and thinking about our conversation as Karyn puttered around the kitchen. She wandered in and out from the kitchen to the dining area, setting places for the two of us, and I could hear the sounds of cooking going on. The smell of bacon was in the air, and I think I could smell some type of coffee cake.

But that was something I only noticed on the periphery when I got tired of thinking about my position, my reaction, and the thoughts Karyn had shared with me. The way I related to Marie, the way I’d approached her, my reaction to Marie’s voice mail – it all ran through my mind in a bit of a confusing blur. Was I really that much of a controlling jerk?

What really caught me by surprise, though, was what happened whenever I saw Karyn on her way out of the kitchen towards the table. While my erection faded slightly as I thought, whenever that dynamite long red nightgown appeared, it started springing back to life. I think she was purposefully drawing things out in setting the table – it would have been just as easy to bring the plates and silverware out all at once. And perhaps that was exactly her intent – to give me repeated viewings of my attractive captor and reinforce what she’d said. Whether it was her intent or not, it worked quite well.

So after what seemed like an hour, but the clock said was twenty-five minutes, the table was set and the smells of breakfast filled the room. Karyn wandered out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel, a broad smile across her face.

“Ready to have me arrested,” she asked as she drew near.

It would have surprised me to do this eight hours ago, but I shook my head without hesitating.

“Been thinking about our chat?”

I nodded. She smiled a bit more broadly in response.

“Well, breakfast is ready, so I need to do something about you. Am I eating and leaving?”

I paused just a moment, a bit of trepidation causing me to hesitate. Then I shook my head very deliberately.

“That’s great news for you, Stephen. I think you really will learn a great deal.”

She started to reach for the medical shears that she’d left on the table when she’d headed for the kitchen, but her hand stopped just before she touched them. She was staring at something when she did, and I followed the path of her eyes directly to my exposed penis. It was completely rigid once again. Her hand drew away from the shears.

“You know, rewards are far more effective than punishment, and you’ve come an enormous way in a very short period of time.”

She leaned up against me again, her breast brushing against me lightly. I felt my blood pressure rising once again.

“So I think perhaps I should reward you now, don’t you?”

I didn’t respond, not knowing what she meant. Then I felt the towel drape across my raging manhood. It was a kitchen towel, soft but not terry cloth so it was smooth. I felt her wrap it around my shaft.

“Just remember, continued rewards will require continued work and obedience – that’s our deal.”

Her hand moved up and down, accelerating slowly as she breathed on my neck and ear and her soft voice spoke. It didn’t take long until I exploded, a feeling of immense pleasure and relief washing over me. And deep inside, a voice was saying that I’d work quite hard and obey quite well…