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