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Archive-name: Amazon/gripfear.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Grip of Fear





     Jim couldn't have been more pleased at how his blind date  

had developed.  A cousin who gave him Paula's name and number had  

raved about her beauty and vivaciousness.  Paula had lived up to  

the notices.



     After seeing a Broadway show and engaging in some  

stimulating conversation in a dimly-lit bar, Paula and Jim had  

returned to her apartment.  Jim had learned that Paula had come  

to New York a few years ago to break into show business.  Since  

she had as yet gotten only into a few chorus lines, she was doing  

figure-modeling work to supplement her income and pay for dancing  

and acting lessons.



     Jim had asked to see some of her modeling pictures, and the  

two were now sprawled on the floor of her living room, flipping  

through a scrapbook of her best poses.



     Paula had a marvelous figure--with about 140 pounds  

beautifully distributed over a 5'8" frame--and didn't mind  

showing it off.  But she let out a squeal of dismay as she turned  

a page and saw a picture of herself in the nude, reclining on a  

rug.  "Good Lord, I'd forgotten about that one," she moaned.  "A  

photographer talked me into that one.  I regretted it soon after,  

and got him to give me the negative, and he also gave me this one  

print he made."



     "Hey, how about that," "Jim grinned as he grabbed the  

picture for a closer look.  "Now there's a real pin-up.  Superb!   

Think I'll keep this one for my collection."



     "No, you won't," Paula affirmed.  "You can have a pin-up  

shot, but not a nudie."  She reached out her hand for the  

picture, but Jim held the picture behind him and teased, "I don't  

know, Paula, this is too good to give up.  Nope, I'm going to  

keep it."



     "C'mon, Jim, gimme," she pleaded, shaking her head with  

aggravation.  "Don't be difficult."  Jim was enjoying teasing  

this spirited girl, and said, "If you want it back, you're going  

to have to take it away from me."  The thought of having a brief  

little tussle with that delightful body intrigued him.  If she  

didn't try to retrieve the picture, he'd simply take it.  Either  

way, he was a winner.



     But he had yet to learn about Paula.  "Okay, if that's the  

way you want it," she sighed, "but remember that you asked for  

this," she warned.  Before Jim could figure out what she meant,  

Paula dove at him.  Her aggressiveness surprised him, and he  

could not slither away before she was atop him..  She jumped  

astraddle his chest, and used her full weight to pin him down.



     "Hey, not so fast," Jim yelled in surprise.  Since he was  

holding the picture he had only one free hand and she took care    

of that by pinning his bicep to the floor with a firm knee.  Her  

attack had been so efficient that he was gasping in astonishment.   

He started to struggle but found he could hardly move.  He bucked  

and heaved, but she rode him expertly and he couldn't unseat her.   

Her knee was having a paralyzing effect on his pinned bicep, and  

to add to his discomfort she was grinning down at him.



     Jim could do nothing as she grabbed his free hand and began  

prying loose the picture with amazingly strong fingers.  Her  

position astraddle him forced her skirt up to reveal plenty of  

nylon, and as she reached over to pry the picture loose her  

neckline was beautifully exposed.  But now Jim could not fully  

appreciate the view.



     Jim outweighed her by about ten pounds and always figured he  

could hold his own in a fight, but this pretty girl was handling  

him like a baby.  What gives, he thought.  She seemed solid as a  

rock underneath her smooth skin, and her arms and legs were very  

strong.  Paula finished prying her picture loose, smiled  

confidently down at her victim, got up, and took all her pictures  

into the bedroom to put them away.



     Jim, still on the floor, could only gaze at her retreating  

figure and wonder how such a pretty, shapely girl could be so  

strong.  Paula returned and stood over Jim, her hands on her hips  

and chuckled as Jim rubbed his bicep to restore circulation. Jim  

finally glanced sheepishly up at her and said "You don't fight  

fair.  I had only one hand free."



     Paula tossed her head and said, "You could have had two  

hands if you'd been nice and returned my picture."  Still trying  

to regain his masculine ego, Jim replied, "Well I have both hands  

free now.  The least you can do is give me a chance in an even  

fight."



     "Happy to oblige," she cooed.  "But I warn you, what I did  

was no freak.  I'm very strong--as you already know--and I  

learned how to wrestle while growing up with a bunch of lively  

brothers.  I still enjoy a good tussle, and can still take a man  

on and make him say, "Auntie" and that includes you."  Jim  

gasped, "You mean you really think you can defeat me in a fair  

fight?"



     She sighed, "I see you're like most men--you won't believe a  

pin-up gal who claims she can pin you down.  Believe me, when  

such a gal makes that claim, she can back it up.  I guess the  

only way to convince you is to give you a personal demonstration  

right now, unless," she taunted, "You want to back out."



     Such a direct challenge couldn't be refused.  Jim jumped to  

his feet and said, "It should be fun showing you who's boss."



     As they squared off, she casually remarked, "Oh, one more  

warning.  Don't let me get a scissors hold.  I noticed you  

glancing in appreciation at my legs all night.  They're not only    

shapely, but deadly.  My best weapons."  Suddenly, she bent 

down, grabbed his cuffs, and yanked his feet from under him.  He flew  

backwards in the air and let out an "ummph" as he landed on his  

rump.  Before he could react, Paula grabbed a foot and began  

twisting it.  This forced Jim over onto his stomach.  He put out  

his hands to push himself off the floor, but Paula released her  

hold on his foot and pounced astride his back, knocking him flat  

on his face.



     While her weight held him temporarily under control, Paula  

slipped her hands underneath his elbows and joined them at the  

back of his neck in a full-nelson.  As she bent forward to get  

more leverage for her hold, she whispered in his ear, "Having  

fun?"  He struggled energetically for several seconds, but got  

nowhere.  Lord, she was strong, and knew how to use every pound  

to best advantage.  He paused for breath, only to hear her taunt,  

"Come on, big boy, not tired already, are you?  Is that all the  

fight you can give a girl?"



     This was one of Paula's favorite tricks--once she had a hold  

that the man couldn't break immediately, she would taunt him  

about being overpowered by a "mere" girl.  This usually goaded  

the man to struggle violently against her hold, without thought  

or reason to his action, thus making him waste energy recklessly  

and wearing him down.  Paula knew how to use a man's ego to her  

own advantage.



     The strategy worked this time, too.  Jim started to toss and  

turn under her, but failed to buck her out of her saddle on his  

back.  Paula figured that Jim was still strong and clever enough  

to break this hold soon, but he would be breathing heavily by the  

time he did.  Jim finally managed to pry her fingers loose, got  

some room to maneuver, and with a supreme effort rolled her off.   

His tormentress was ready.  The escape had placed Jim in a  

sitting position on the floor, and Paula quickly regained her  

balance, and renewed her attack by diving across his body.



     "Damn!"  Jim muttered as he was knocked flat on his back.   

With her torso draped across his chest, Paula grabbed his right  

wrist, sunk her other hand underneath his forearm, and clasped  

her own wrist to secure a wristlock.  This immobilized his right  

arm, and she tried to tie up his other arm with her magnificent  

legs.  



     Again she was in control.  When Jim paused to regain his  

breath again, she teased, "You're not doing so well, Honey."  He  

was goaded into action, but felt almost smothered.  His right arm  

was a prisoner of her wristlock, and her body was firm and heavy  

against his chest and shoulders.  He had managed to keep his left  

arm free from her antangling legs, but he could feel the long,  

supple muscles they contained and knew she hadn't been kidding  

when she called them her best weapons.  Stay away from them, he  

told himself.



     He was now aware of Paula's strategy in taunting him, and    

cursed himself for falling for her trick and expending energy he  

could use right now.  She always seemed to be resting atop him,  

and he trying to push her off.  Now he again tried to work free  

from her, remaining calm in the face of her continuing taunts.   

Slowly he pushed her body down off his chest, and got some  

breathing room.  Paula clung tightly to her wristlock, but could  

not stop Jim from sliding away and using his free hand to grab  

one of her arms and wrench away from her.  The opponents rolled  

away from each other so they could not be jumped, and slowly rose  

to their feet to fach each other again.



     The contrast was striking.  Jim looked disheveled and tired,  

and his breath came in gasps.  Paula looked bouncy and as fresh  

as when the fight started.



     Having tested Jim's strength and agility, and knowing she  

had already tired him considerably, Paula was confident she could  

handle him at her leisure now.  "Say, that was a good warm-up,"  

She enthused.  "Ready for another go?  I haven't had a good work  

out in weeks."  Jim could only grunt in reply and wonder if he  

might turn the tables.  But how?  She always seemed a step ahead  

of him, and he was finding it difficult to get a good hold of  

her, since she was such a lovely bundle of curves and wore such  

flimsy, form-fitting clothing.  He needed to find a solution  

soon, or find himself pinned as she had promised.



     They sparred briefly, and then Paula got a good grip on his  

shirt front.  She raised her right foot, placed it on his  

stomach, and began to sit down on the floor.  Jim was pulled down  

atop her, but Paula used the leverage in her leg to send him  

catapulting over her head to the floor behind her.



     As Paula scrambled to her hands and knees and turned towards  

him, he was still shaking his head from the flip.  She grabbed  

his right arm and began twisting, forcing him to roll over and  

over.  Paula was well in control now, and would not give Jim a  

chance to mount a defense.  The pain in his arm was so intense he  

hardly noticed her sit down beside him, grab his left hand, place  

her feet against his shoulder, and lean back to apply a painful  

arm stretch.



     After draining the energy from that arm, too, Paula released  

her hold and announced, "Now, for the piece de resistance.  One  

scissors hold coming up."  Though weak and dazed, Jim was  

fighting to the end.  He muttered, "No, no." and tried to get  

away, knowing he was through if she got her powerful legs around  

him.  But he could do little as he felt Paula grab a handful of  

hair to halt his scramble away from her, heard the rustle of  

nylon and silk as she crouched into position behind his head, and  

saw her legs snake around his neck.



     Jim grabbed her ankles, but could not hold them.  As they  

slid together, and locked in place, Jim's fate was sealed.  Paula  

sang out "That does it!"  Ripples of muscle danced along her  

calves and thighs as she applied pressure.  She grabbed his    

nearest arm, and this left Jim with only one weakened arm to claw 

at the nylon noose around his neck.



     "Aawk!" he gasped as his air supply was cut off.  He looked  

up, and saw himself surrounded by a prison of nylon, garters,  

delicate lingerie, skirt--and shapely strong legs.



     Now Paula was smiling in amusement at his struggles, and  

said, "Like I said, nobody breaks my scissors hold."  She could  

hold him here forever, but gave one mighty last squeeze and  

released her hold.  His head flopped to the floor, and Paula got  

astraddle his chest, pinned his shoulders with her knees, and  

assumed a victory pose.



     "Now are you convinced a pin-up gal can pin a man down?" she  

asked.  Jim nodded silently, fear and defeat in his eyes.



     "Let's hear you say 'Auntie'," she demanded.



     His voice was almost a sob when he obeyed.  "Auntie," he  

said.



     With her victory on record, Paula arose and went to the  

bathroom for a comb and lipstick.  When she returned, he was  

still laying on his back, his eyes closed, his face red from the  

humiliating experience he had just undergone.  So she sat on his  

chest, tucked her legs to one side, and used him for a dressing  

stool as she fixed her lipstick, combed her hair, and  

straightened her nylons after the fight.



     "Hey, that was fun," she said.  "Want to do it again  

sometime?"



     Jim groaned, so she bent down and kissed him, and then stood  

and he stumbled to his feet and tried to put himself back into  

shape, stuffing his shirttails back in, pushing his hair with his  

hand.  He couldn't look her in the eye.



     "Am I going to see you again?" she asked sincerely.  "Please  

don't take your defeat too badly.  I've done this to much bigger  

men."



     "Look, Paula," Jim said "You won, I lost.  A fellow hates to  

have a woman take him like that, but it happened.  So now I'll  

just split from here, try to forget it, and--hey, what are you  

doing?"



     For Paula had stepped between him and the door and there was  

a strange, hard look in her eyes.  "I'm afraid I can't let you go  

just now, Jim," she said, her voice deep and authoritative.  "You  

see, we girls need men, as escorts, breadwinners, to add a  

necessary part to our lives.  And I've already lost too many of  

them when I showed them I was their physical superior."



     "Do you mean to say that you're going to prevent me from    

leaving?" Jim asked incredulously.



     "To put it more exactly," Paula said in a flat, positive  

voice, "You will leave here only when I tell you that you may and  

only under the conditions I dictate."



     "You do understand that this is kidnapping, a violation of  

the Lindbergh Law, something that carries the most severe of  

penalties," Jim said, his voice rising.



     "I think the publicity will be interesting, you and me on  

the covers of all the sensational magazines, and the headline:  

'Wishful thinker claims beauty kidnapped him.'"



     Jim tried to dart around her, only to find himself caught in  

a bear hug and she had his wrists securely in her grasp.  She  

backed him up against a corner of the room next to the window,  

pressing her beautiful body tightly against his, her freshly  

lipsticked mouth only inches away from his, her perfume filling  

his nostrils.



     He felt his body relaxing and immediately he regretted it,  

for she had quickly whipped the end of a venetian blind cord  

around his crossed wrists, then, when he bent low in an effort to  

bull his way out of the corner, she draped one shapely leg over  

his neck, reached over his bent-over body and lashed the cord in  

a hard square knot.



     He tried to run with his wrists bound together and only  

succeeded in pulling up the blind.  Then Paula got a knife and  

cut the cord, causing the blinds to drop down again, resting on  

its tapes.



     After this the struggle was over.  She jerked a rug on which  

he stood, bent one leg up to where it reached the wrists and tied  

it in place, and then Jim was Paula's to do with as she pleased.



     "What do you intend to do to me?" Jim asked, red-faced and  

helpless on the floor.



     "I thought it might be fun to call your cousin and thank her  

for introducing us, Jim." Paula said.



     "But she's part of my family!" Jim wailed.



     "And how well do you know your family?"  Paula asked, her  

voice cool and cruel.  "Your cousin Audrey and I have had a lot  

of fun together with weaklings like you and her excellent camera  

techniques."



     Wildly Jim writhed on the floor, trying to reach the cords  

that bound him with stretching, clawing fingers until Paula  

brought out some wide adhesive tape and, shaping his fingers into  

a fist, deprived him of their use.  "Say 'Auntie' again," Paula  

insisted, "or the next strip of this tape goes over your mouth    

and all around your head, including the short hairs at the back  

of your neck."



     "Auntie," Jim said dutifully.



     "Hi, Audrey," Paula's bell-like, girlish voice sang out into  

the phone, "this is Paula, and I wanted to thank you for  

introducing me to Jim.  He's perfectly darling.  I tried to avoid  

spoiling one more romance by wrestling with him, but he insisted  

on starting something with me--and you know what that does to  

me. . .Of course he tried to get out and never come back, but I  

didn't want that to happen.  He's too cute for words. . .What  

happened?  Here, I'll make him tell you!"  Then she held the  

phone next to Jim's ear and mouth, one exciting knee on the floor  

beside his head, the other up, an ankle in front of his face.



     "She caught me and tied me up," Jim said in a small voice.   

"She has my wrists and an ankle together behind my back with a  

venetian blind cord and then she taped my fingers into a fist so  

that I can't use them to get loose."



     Paula took the phone away from him then and said, "Come on  

over, Audrey, dear.  We can have some fun with Jim.  And be sure  

to bring your camera."



     Helpless as he was, Jim tried to roll away, to get near the  

door, to an open window, anything.  He could always claim he had  

been kidnapped or that it was a fraternity initiation, he  

reasoned in his wild efforts to move in this helpless position.



    Paula stood with her hands on her hips, watching him  

contemplatively for a while.  Then she took him by his free leg  

and, using the rug that had tripped him as a skid, she dragged  

him into her bedroom where she tied the ankle to the foot of the  

bed with one of her nylon stockings.



     He didn't dare yell.  The threat of the tape was too  

positive for that.  He could only lie on his back on the floor,  

wondering what could possibly be Paula's interpretation of "some  

fun with Jim," and how they would photograph him, and what they  

would do with the pictures.



     Then Audrey arrived.  Ample-bosomed, narrow-waisted, full of  

hip, beautiful and blonde with exciting eyes and lovely legs, she  

stood looking down at her fallen cousin, a smile playing around  

the corners of her mouth.



     "Good to see you, Jim," she teased.  "I see you've already  

met my friend Paula."

  

     "Aw, come on, Audrey, let me up, please," Jim urged.



     Audrey set up her photographic equipment and, kneeling on  

the bed, took a picture of Jim in his helpless state.  She then  

untied his ankle and turned him over on his face while Paula    

stood in the doorway watching.  Carefully, Audrey freed the bound 

ankle but left her cousin with his hands tied behind his back and  

his fingers taped closed.  Now she stood the flustered man on his  

feet and chucked him under the chin.  "There, cousin," she said,  

"Do you feel better now?"



     "They make better photographic subjects when they're  

stripped to the waist and you can see their muscles working as  

they try to get loose.  What do you say to our posing Jim here as  

Prometheus Bound, 20th Century?"



     "I just love classical subjects," Paula twinkled.  "How do  

you plan to modernize it?"



     "Well, you're going to be part of the picture, too," Audrey  

explained.  "Here, let's make Jim take part in his own  

subjugation."  She started unbuttoning his clothes, pulling them  

up over his shoulders.  When she got to his undershirt, she  

pulled it over his head and it went around in back, hanging onto  

his arms.  Now she began gathering the material, pulling his  

elbows back toward each other.



     "Ouch, Audrey," Jim protested.  "That hurts!"



     "Would you be willing to do some work for a little extra  

touch, a few moments of freedom--just while you do it?" she asked  

him.  "Remember, I recall some childhood pranks you played on me  

that have never been properly avenged."



     "But to break a man's spirit like this," Jim sputtered, "to  

destroy his dignity--"  Audrey gave him an extra yank on the  

clothing and Jim turned pale from the pain.  "I'll do it."



     Then they freed his arms and left him stripped to the waist.   

He was ordered to put some heavy screw eyes into the dark door  

frame.  To prevent his using the tools as weapons against the  

girls, they had ropes around his ankles and tossed over the heavy  

beamed ceiling.  All it would take to dump him abruptly onto the  

ground would be a yank on the ropes!



     When, later, they untied his ankles, the ropes were left  

draped over the beam.  But now Jim's task was done.  The girls  

forced him to stand in the doorway, wrists up high, feet against  

the base of the door, and they used symbolic aprons to tie his  

wrists and ankles to the screw eyes, tying him with apron  

strings.



     The dark door was closed behind the helpless man and Audrey  

set up her camera on a tripod.  Then they sprayed him with a  

shiny, perfumed hair spray to make his muscles gleam and mussed  

his hair to curliness and sprayed it, too.  Audrey looked into  

the viewfinder and looked up at Paula, disappointed.



     "It's no good at all this way," she said.  "His muscles are  

too relaxed, not at all corded.  There's no anguish, no strain    

showing on his face.  I want him to portray suffering, an attempt  

to wrest himself loose, the real spirit of a man bound under  

protest rather than just a weakling a pretty girl could muster  

this easily."



     Jim, angered by this, began to tug at his bonds.  Audrey  

kept on taunting him, accusing him of being puny, a sissy, a  

push-over for a pretty girl and then not man enough to handle  

her.  Enraged, he lunged toward her, tugged at his bonds, and  

Audrey, delighted with the effect, took several exposures of him.



     "Paula," she said, will you please do something to him that  

will make him try even harder to wrench himself loose?"



     "I'll try," Paula said.  Then she put on fresh perfume,  

fresh make-up, an even more dramatic costume and she stood close  

to him, patting his cheek, stroking his chest, standing on her  

toes and biting him on the earlobes.  She squeezed his face  

between the palms of her strong hands and let her tongue dart  

inside his mouth, then backed away rapidly and stood in front of  

him, her chest thrust toward him, her hands on her hips, her eyes  

large and her chin down staring intently at him, then she backed  

away out of camera range and said, "Come on, Jim, don't you like  

me?  Come on.  Kiss me.  Show me that you love me."



     His muscles knotted and the strong taffeta sashes of the  

aprons were drawn taut.  You could almost see the threads of the  

screw eyes straining to hold themselves in the wood, so violently  

did Jim struggle to get at the irresistably beautiful, incredibly  

desirable Paula.



     More of these effective pictures were taken by Audrey, who  

exclaimed delightedly at what she was seeing in the viewfinder.   

"Now, Paula, I want you to take the next few of these shots.  I  

want to see my 'beloved' cousin struggling to escape real pain."



     Jim found himself in a cold sweat from the deadly quality in  

Audrey's voice.  So he'd tattled on her some when they were kids  

and she'd gotten spanked for it.  So he'd stolen a few things and  

she'd been blamed.  So he'd lied to an early date of hers that  

she was pregnant and gotten her talked about.  That was long ago  

when they were kids.  She surely didn't intend to  carry this  

revenge through to today now that they were both adults!



     How wrong he was!



     For Audrey was straightening out a number of wire coat  

hangers and wrapping some of the tape around one end of them as a  

handle.  He watched these preparations with growing apprehension  

as the tape wound around the hook end of the hangers and Audrey  

practiced whipping her new weapon against a sofa pillow.  Jim's  

stomach crawled when after the fifth blow, he saw a cloud of  

feathers emerge from the pillow.



     Then Audrey ducked under his arm and stepped over his leg    

and went into the darkened room behind him.  Abruptly across his  

back he felt a dozen simultaneous painful blows from the hanger  

whip.  He cried out in pain and protest, screamed imprecations,  

yelped, begged Audrey to stop, pleaded for mercy.  His face was  

drawn, his muscles hard and strained, his body covered with  

perspiration that rode in droplets atop the sheen they had  

sprayed onto his skin.



     Paula recorded these scenes with the trained skills Audrey  

had imparted to her.  The pictures were great, she assured  

Audrey.



     Now they turned him around in his door frame, freeing one  

limb at a time and securing it in its next position before  

releasing the next.  And then other pictures were taken of him  

from the rear as he was once again compelled to struggle against  

new bonds, this time the symbolic--but strong--bonds being a  

braid of long hair, a bright-colored silk scarf, a brassiere and  

a nylon stocking.



     And then, exhausted, emotionally shattered by frustration,  

Jim sagged from his new bonds in the doorway.  When they untied  

him, he simply dropped to the ground there.



     "Looks like my cousin has had it, Paula," Audrey said, "but  

let's not take a chance with him.  Even as a child he was  

tricky."



     She lit a cigarette, smoked it for a brief minute, and then  

suddenly dropped it on Jim's bare chest.  With a yelp he sat up  

abruptly and shouted, "Watch it, you clumsy little bitch!"



     Instantly Paula leaped on him from behind, bending him  

double, and she caught his legs with her arms.  He tried to  

straighten up, but so great was the strength of her arms, that  

even his powerful back muscles couldn't prevail over her.



     "Now put one end of each of those ropes around his ankles,"  

Paula ordered Audrey.  When the ropes were tightly in place and  

the knots taped, Jim was stood up and required to stand on a  

chair.  Paula held one of his wrists in a tight, twisting grip,  

with the skin being pulled in opposite directions by the wringing  

of her two hands while Audrey tied the other end of the rope  

leading to his ankle to the opposite wrist.  The rope from the  

other ankle then reached across the rafter-beam overhead and  

ended on the wrist Paula was holding.



     "This has to be exact," Paula said.  "Get a stool for Jim to  

step down onto now."



     When he stepped down, he was amazed to find his arms moving  

up.  Then he stepped down onto some telephone books and found his  

arms were extended almost as far as they could reach.  One more  

book was removed and the strain on his wrists and the cutting  

into his ankles caused him almost unbelievable pain.



     "Watch this, Audrey," Paula said.  "It will make good  

pictures, too."  Jim looked at her, puzzled, but then found that  

he could relieve the strain on a wrist by lifting the ankle at  

the other end of the rope.  Soon he was doing a wild dance of  

lifting first one ankle and then the other so that he could lower  

his arms occasionally.



     Audrey dutifully recorded the wild postures her cousin was  

being forced to assume by the ingenious system they had used on  

him.  When he slowed down, the girls amused themselves by  

tickling him under the arms with gloved fingers, a cluster of  

long, ornamental feathers and a soft powder puff on a long  

handle.



     "Please," Jim said, "I can't take it any more.  I'll do  

whatever you say.  But please let me down, won't you?"



     "For a while," Audrey said, looking at Paula for  

confirmation, "but we'll secure you to a chair at the writing  

desk as your price of freedom.  You have some writing to do,  

Jim."



     They released him and helped him to the chair.  Then chains  

were brought out to padlock his waist, ankles, chest, and neck to  

the sturdy, high-backed, massive chair.  Only his arms were free.



     "Write a detailed confession of everything you did that was  

wrong to me when we were children," Audrey insisted.  "And don't  

leave out a single thing."  She handed him a pen and a stack of  

white paper.



     While he was writing, Audrey posed Paula in several dramatic  

nude positions, working with extreme close-ups, sometimes  

photographing her breasts in their lovely perfection, sometimes  

her deliciously shapely buttocks, sometimes her thighs, even  

close-ups of her exquisite face.



     Looking at the girls briefly while he paused to review some  

of the outrages he had committed against his cousin as a youth,  

Jim suddenly blurted out, "But those are exposed films you're  

using!"



     "I know," Audrey told him.  "We used conventional lens types  

on you in your position as Prometheus.  Now these exposures of  

the beautiful feminine body will show to what Prometheus is bound  

in our time."



     His hand trembled as he finished writing the details of his  

confessions.  When he couldn't think of another misdeed against  

Audrey and she had packed away her photographic equipment(her  

last shot being Jim in chains at the writing desk), she read the  

confession approvingly and locked it away with her camera gear.



     Now will you unchain me and let me go?" Jim asked.   

                  

     Audrey finished packing her equipment and stopped in the  

doorway briefly.  "That's up to Paula, Jim.  After all, she won  

in the wrestling match.  And she's the one who said you were  

perfectly darling, and too cute for words."  She left.



     Jim looked imploringly at Paula.  "Please, Paula," he asked.



     She was dressed again, freshly made-up, perfumed, gowned,  

and bejewelled.  Never had he seen anyone more beautiful in all  

his life.



     "I've a few writing chores for you, too, Jim."  Paula said,  

standing close to him, letting her beautiful satin gown brush  

against his bare arm.  "I want you to write out a bill of sale,  

giving your person to me to do with whatever I please, whenever I  

please, without any recourse for you whatsoever.  I want you to  

write that you are a chattel of mine, Jim, completely, utterly,  

irrevocably in my power."



     He looked at her long and thoughtfully, looked down at his  

bonds, recalled the pictures he would someday see of himself in  

bondage and suffering, utterly at the mercy of this woman.



     "And if I refuse?" Jim asked.



     "Then, when I release you, you may never see me, phone me,  

or hear from me again as long as you live."



     "Now may I make one more request concerning this document?"  

Jim asked.



     "Yes," Paula replied.  Her fingers were walking across his  

bare shoulder.  Her perfume assailed his senses.  He felt the  

pressure of her thigh against his arm.



     "May I also write into this assignment of my person to you a  

stipulation that it is contingent on your giving serious  

consideration to--" Jim turned scarlet and tried again.  "Oh,  

hell, Paula," he blurted.  "May I say that I am doing this in  

consideration of your agreeing to at least think over marrying  

me?"



     Paula smiled prettily, "Why, yes, Jim.  I think that would  

be very nice."



     His fingers fairly flew as they wrote the message on the  

paper.  There was a happy grin on his face.  He didn't realize,  

so intent was he on his writing, that Paula was unlocking the  

chains that had held him as he wrote at the desk.



     And then, when he was through, he found himself free.  He  

walked across the room to where Paula was sitting.  Silently he  

dropped onto one knee and presented her with the written message.

   

     "I give this to you, Paula, with love."



     While she read it imperiously, Jim painfully retrieved his  

clothing and got dressed again, putting on his undershirt, shirt,  

tie, feeling his hands tremble as much from emotion as from the  

strain to which the girls had subjected him.



     He left the room to straighten up and when he returned,  

Paula had finished reading the message and was standing next to  

the opened front door.  "You may leave now, Jim," she said.  Then  

she caught him in a firm grip, bent him over backward and kissed  

him full on the mouth, a long, lingering, passionate kiss.



     Jim's heart thundered in his chest as he exclaimed "Auntie!"



                            THE END








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