{Authors note: I was going to title this story "Not A Humiliatrix," because as you will see, although many humiliating moments would happen in my interactions with Amy, I steadfastly believe there was never anything inherently bitchy about Amy.  She was simply a natural young woman innately aware of the awesome sexual power in her possession and confident enough to use these powers to her advantage.  Enjoy this one.  -James Pendergrass - www.lulu.com/jmplays}

Miss Amy

By James Pendergrass

Copyright James Pendergrass - April 2009.

I met Amy in business school.  We were in the same class and the same study group.  It was an intense, pressure-filled two-year program.  Adding to the pain was the fact that our class was 70% men.  Needless to say, women were hot commodities.  And Amy was the hottest commodity of all.

The best way to summarize Amy was to say that she was a sophisticated and well-bred young woman.   Everything about Amy was petite except her hips.  Amy was just over five feet tall.  She almost always wore high heels.  Her body was quite slender and feminine.  Everything about Amy was feminine.  By that I mean her neck, her waist, her wrists and her ankles were all narrow.  She had a pointy chin and a pointier nose.  Her head was quite small, surrounded on both sides by beautiful, straight, long brown hair.  It was obvious she spent a good amount of time on her hair; the highlights of lighter colors were flawless.  She had long eyelashes and never, ever was seen at B-school without makeup on.  Most girls with this sort of physique tend to be lacking in the breast department but Amy had a nice firm set of beautifully developed Cs. 

Amy had a snappy personality.  I wouldn't say she was particularly vocal, but she wasn't quiet either.  Her views on business weren't exactly brilliant, but she never said anything stupid.  Her comments were usually well measured.  She was the type of student who stayed within herself but projected confidence when forced to stand in front of the room and give a presentation.  Her hand-gestures were wonderful to track as she delivered her carefully rehearsed lines flawlessly.  Men gravitated toward her and she seemed perfectly comfortable with the attention.  Rumors connected her with various men at the school, but they were all unsubstantiated.  She had her share of girlfriends, but wasn't a gossipy type. 

Amy drove a BMW and always dressed with great style and grace.  Other than her impressive collection of high heels, she usually wore skirts.  Once, on a Saturday when we had a project due, she wore blue jeans and holy shit did her smoking lower body ever fill those jeans with precision and grace. 

Like most men, I was totally smitten with her beauty and her personality.  It wasn't that she was particularly brilliant; she just carried herself like a woman - sweet as sugar, but not afraid to crack a joke.  She didn't take herself too seriously, but at the same time she knew that she was a petite little babe.   

As I got to know her, I began to realize that in some ways she was quite vapid and materialistic.  She loved buying Prada bags.  It seemed to be her main hobby.  When I asked her what music she was interested in, she mumbled something about Cold Play.  Her main goals were shopping, and finding a marketing job that would pay her a six-figure salary, in that order. 

In the first year of school, we were in different groups.  I barely knew her and more admired her from afar.  Then, in the second year, we were placed in the same study group.  I got to know her better.  Most people in business school were in their late 20s.  Amy was 27 and I was 32, having suffered a few additional years in the real world before deciding I could use an MBA.  The added experience gave me a real-world edge on many of my classmates.  At some point or another, I summoned up the courage to ask Amy to dinner.  Much to my delight she said yes.

The first date went well.  We ate sushi and the conversation flowed freely.  Amy wasn't the most interesting girl in the world, but her beauty and general affect more than compensated for her lack of an apparent edge.  Her movements were precise and well coordinated.  The simple act of pushing her hair back from her forehead or clearing her throat was so lovely that I was soon transfixed.  I loved the way her hair flowed so gracefully around that narrow neck.  Each time she turned her head I caught a glimpse of those perfectly formed tiny little ears, each with a good-sized diamond stud in her pierced lobes.

Our first date was a success!  We both enjoyed ourselves.  I made her laugh a few times.  When I dropped her off at her posh condo, she permitted me to give her a peck on the cheek.  Outside of that I didn't want to push it too far.  I had a good thing going and didn't want to be overeager.

Upon completion of our date, I was amazed with the painful tightness of my balls.  I had no choice but to exceed the speed limit when driving back to my apartment.  When I arrived home I barely had to touch myself before I exploded all over the place.  The big wad of tissues I used was unable to contain the mess and I spilled my own seed on my pants and the floor.

The second date was even better.  We met for cocktails and talked for hours.  She seemed more relaxed with me and told me more about her family.  They were quite wealthy and lived on a huge piece of property west of town.  She was an only child.  Again I was almost overwhelmed by her beauty.  At one point she left to use the ladies room.  When she returned I admired the way she moved across the room.  Her hips swung to and fro with such efficiency and purpose.  I studied her perfectly toned legs as they propelled her smoothly back to me.

When I dropped her off I was hoping she'd invite me upstairs.  Especially after we kissed deeply.  But then she seemed in a rush and I was left in a state of heightened excitement that could only be resolved with a late-night date with Rosy Palm.  Once again I was amazed at the intensity of my orgasm.  I was in love!

After that we went on one more date.  I'm not sure why, but I was probably too pushy during the date.  I revealed too much about myself.  Maybe I came off as somewhat of a slob.  Maybe I came off as a bit desperate.  Whatever the case was, I could feel her withdrawing from me.

She then proceeded to ignore my phone calls and emails for a week.  I feared I was sunk!  But I wasn't about to back off that easily.  Amy was too big a prize.  Let me first say that I realize this is a somewhat animalistic thought, but I do believe all men think this way:  Her vagina, though out of sight, was constantly on my mind!  It could only be so perfect!  I pictured it nestled there beneath her little skirt and her tiny panties, a perfectly formed lower-case "v," with the thin slit serving as the gateway to a narrow cavern of Female - the most luxurious cavern the world would ever know.  I imagined how incredibly soft the skin must be and how Amy must take such incredible care of her prized possession.  I could picture the way her panties must hug her snatch - from it's formation at her naval all the way beneath her perfect ass - the way the flesh must undulate so gracefully away from the surrounding area.  I found myself wondering if she shaved her pubic hair entirely, or if she groomed the hair so that it formed a neat triangle.  I pictured her sitting spread-legged on a chair in front of a mirror after a shower with her eyelashes pointed downward in rapt attention as she deftly manicured her perfect little cunt with the utmost attention to detail.

A week after our lousy third date, I spied her walking alone across campus to the parking lot.  I decided it was now or never.  Even though the writing was on the wall I wanted answers. 

I walked quickly and admired her beautiful, pert ass as it moved in the confines of her miniskirt.  Today she wore leather boots, which was a break from her usual high heels.  Man was she a nugget!

She turned her head as I approached and I could see the slight hints of a negative reaction.

"Oh.  Hi James," she said politely, but with a noticeable lack of affect in her voice. 

I won't bore you with the details of the first five pained minutes of our conversation, but let's just say Amy was less than enthused with our last date.  She felt I was a tad pushy and I made her feel uncomfortable with some of the things I revealed about past relationships.  I argued a few points with her but it quickly became a debate about semantics.  The point was that Amy was no longer interested in me.

Maybe I should have just let it go.  But that's not really the way I am.  Plus, I was totally infatuated with Amy and I didn't want to give up without a fight.  I also felt she was hiding something from me.

"Look Amy," I began.  "It's okay if you don't want to date anymore, but I just have this feeling you're holding back on the truth.  Are you sure there isn't more that you aren't telling me?"

Amy stopped in her tracks and faced me.  She placed her legs neatly together and huddled her arms close to her body.  "Okay," she said as though she had come to a major decision point.  Her voice and posture changed.  It became much more pointed, less evasive.  "Do you really want to hear the truth, James?"

"Yes."

"Even if it offends you?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" 

A hint of sadness filled her eyes, as though she felt bad about what she was about to say.  I could see Amy was having second thoughts about her change in course.  "Amy, don't be afraid to hurt my feelings.  Just be honest with me.  I can take it."

She took a deep breath.  How is it that a beautiful woman could look beautiful by simply inhaling the air around her?  "Okay, James.  Don't take this the wrong way.  You're actually a really nice guy.  But you're not the type of guy I would ever consider spreading my legs for."

The truth hit me so hard.  I just stood there. 

Emboldened, Amy continued. "I swear I'm not trying to be mean or anything.  It's just the truth.  You're not an alpha male.  I don't think you have it in you."  I saw her eyes drift down momentarily; the implications clear, before she refocused on my face.  "I'm sorry," she added.  "You're a good guy and I want us to remain friends, but that's it."  With that she turned and walked abruptly away.

I probably should have left it at that.  Instead, I decided to get brave.  If Amy had the guts to make such a statement, I reasoned that be so quick to let things go.  After all, she happened to be right.  I was no alpha male.  I had certain tendencies that my readers are well aware of. 

She was in the process of climbing into her BMW when I caught up to her again.  "What is it?" she said with a note of irritation in her voice, while at the same time focusing her sweet smile on me in an effort to be as kind as possible.

"I'm sorry to bug you again," I said, somewhat breathless from chasing her.  "Look, you're right," I said.  My face turned red.  "If you have a moment, I have a confession to make."

"A confession?" The corners of her mouth curled upwards in curiosity.

"I just wanted to say that you're more perceptive than you let on.  You're right.  I'm not an alpha male," I stuttered.  "I more the submissive type."

I was about to walk away until I saw the look on her face.  For the first time, her tense expression faded.  Her facial muscles relaxed and she gently nodded her head while her smile widened.  "I know," she said.  "I could totally tell.  You are way too impressed with me."

"I can't help it," I countered.  "You're stunningly beautiful."

She nodded her head in agreement and paused.  I expected the next words out of her mouth would be "Thank you."  Instead she surprised me by saying, "I thought it was cute the way you fawned all over me.  It's not a trait I'm really looking for in a real relationship, but I assume I can count on your loyalty, right?"  She raised her eyebrows challengingly at me.

"Absolutely," I said.  In truth I wanted her to know she had more than my loyalty!  I would gladly clean the dirt from the soles of her high heels if she told me too.  Instead I said rather meekly, "Whatever you need, just ask."

"Thank you," she said.  "I will."

I again prepared to walk away, but Amy stopped me again.  It was as though she suddenly realized the true intent of my commentary.  "Wait, James," she said, smiling mischievously.  "Do you mean if I need ANYTHING at all I can count on you?"

This was getting interesting.  I could see the gears turning in her head as she began to realize my true intent.  It emboldened me.  "Amy, your wish is my command," I said as earnestly as I could.  I bowed my head slightly in deference to her, a subtle indication to her that I consider her to be above me in the natural order of things.

Her laughter sent mixed signals.  Did she think I was just kidding, or did she realize now that I was submitting myself to her?  Her next comment left no doubt that it was the latter -  "Glad to know I can count on your [she paused] obedience."  Her eyes locked on mine.  It was obvious to me she understood the situation to a tee.  She became confident and serious.  "Say, James, I'm curious.  Tell me.  After our dates were over, when you went home, did you like, touch yourself?"

"Yes, I did."  I looked down at my feet.

I felt her finger tuck beneath my chin.  Just the feel of her touch sent a jolt through my body.  I felt a rapid swelling in my pants.  "Look at me when I talk to you," she said with sweet, feminine authority.  This was perfect!   

Our eyes met.  "It's okay, James," she said.  "I think it's cute."

"Really?"  I felt light-headed.

She laughed.  "Yeah.  I mean, it's also gross.  And perverted.  But cute."

I didn't know how to respond to that.  She released me chin and our eyes locked again.  I stared into her deep brown eyes and was overwhelmed with the moment.  She looked as though she was analyzing me, but she also looked quite pleased with things.  She continued to stare and smile, letting her words sink in.

"I should probably get going," she said, reaching into her Prada handbag and grasping the keys to her 330ix.

"Wait, Amy," the words poured out of me. "I live five minutes from here.  Want to come over and I'll show you what I did after each of our dates.  You don't have to take any clothing off.  You can sit comfortably on my couch and watch me.  It would be my way of honoring you."

Amy took a deep breath and a step away.  She laughed nervously.  "Wait, let me get this straight.  You want me to come over so you can masturbate while I watch?" she had a note of incredulity to her voice.

"I'm sorry," I said.  "Forget it."

Amy appeared to catch herself.  She smiled so sweetly I wanted to melt.  Her eyes drifted down again where she no doubt caught site of my tented groin.  "James," she said laughing and putting her hand over her mouth, then removing it.  "You know, it's okay.  Don't feel bad.  I totally understand where you're coming from.  And I'm touched.  A little bit grossed out, but touched."

"It would be a great honor, ma'am." I said, lowering my voice.

Amy laughed.  "No, you can't call me ma'am.  I'll tell you what, James.  From now on if nobody else is around you can call me 'Miss Amy.'  I think that conveys an appropriate amount of respect."

"Yes Miss Amy," I said.  "Thank you, Miss Amy."

Amy looked down at her tiny wristwatch.  "Okay, this is getting a little bit weird," she said.  "I have to go now."

"You know I would never lay a finger on you, right?" I said.

"Of course I know that," she laughed.

I stood there, red-faced while she got into her car.  I waited until she was buckled up and she turned and looked at me.  I waved meekly.  Amy responded by blowing a quick kiss, smiling knowingly, and then driving away.

**********

The parking-lot interaction with beautiful, sweet Amy was I could think about for the next few days.  I saw her in school from time to time, but she was busy and never made any time to talk with me.  I figured that she had her fun and was moving on with those alpha males she apparently was more interested in.  It was really disappointing to me because I was sure we had established some sort of innate understanding and she had seemed to enjoy herself.  Still, as the days went by, my hopes for additional encounters faded.

Then, on a Thursday afternoon, I was sitting outside the school hall smoking a butt.  Suddenly, to my great joy, Amy was there.  She had snuck up behind me.  She wore an incredibly sexy maroon-colored, velvet mini, matching heels, and a tight blouse that wrapped smartly around her svelte upper-body curves.

"Smoking is bad for you," she said.

"Oh, hi Amy." I blurted.

"What happened to Miss Amy?" she teased, good-naturedly.

"Hi Miss Amy," I said.  My heart began beating faster.

"Remember the other day when you said, "Your wish is my command," said Amy.

"Of course," I said.

"Well, I command you to stop smoking." She put her hands on her hips.  Goddamn was she smoking hot!

"Okay, I'll stop," I said.

"It's what I want, so I think you should stop.  Unless you're not true to your word."  She raised her eyebrows.

"If it's what you want, then I have no choice," I said, heart rate skyrocketing.

"No choice," she smiled.  "I like that."  I could see the gears were once again turning in her pretty head.  She was mustering up the courage to say something.  I waited patiently until she delivered the words I was hoping for.  "I actually don't have class for three hours," she said.  "I was meeting Professor McClure about my start-up.  So I was thinking, since I have some time and don't feel like going all the way home, what say we head over to your place?  I want to take you up on your offer from the other day."  She focused those teasing eyes on me before delivering the knockout blow - "I figure could use a good laugh."

I had all I could do to keep from coming in my pants on the spot!  The way she was so casual about the whole thing.  So confident.  So breezy!  She sat on the low concrete wall next to me and crossed her legs seductively.  She dangled her red high heel in front of me and raised those eyebrows. 

She followed me to my little apartment.  I was shaking with excitement.  This was too much!  Once inside, she sat on the couch while I poured her a glass of water.  When I returned with the glass, she had opened my laptop computer, which was on the coffee table next to the couch and had turned it on.

"I want to see what kind of websites you visit," she said, flashing a smile at me.  Then, noticing a sour look of concern on my face, she added, "Oh relax, James.  For our relationship to be - how should I put this – effective, you can't be keeping any secrets from me.  Why don't you take your clothes off while I check your Internet history," she said, not taking her eyes off the screen.  "Mine stay ON," she added, in case there was any doubt.

While I disrobed in my bedroom, I heard her voice in the other room.  "When you're ready, come kneel in front of me, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," said hoarsely.

Amy stared bluntly at my crotch as I reentered the room in my birthday suit.  She made me turn around, so she could get a nice view.  She whistled condescendingly before saying.  "Gosh, you're hairy, but overall not bad.  Let me get a good look at your penis.  Stick it out."

I kneeled down and front of her as her eyes studied my prized organ.  She nodded her head as though it was confirming something she previously suspected.  I figured she might comment on my lack of size.  After all, I'm not the most well-endowed.  I'd guess I'm five inches on my hardest day.

Instead she said, "Don't you think you ought to get some tissue so you don't make a mess on your carpet?"

"Yes Miss Amy."  And I was off to the bathroom and back again in a matter of seconds.

When I returned, she resumed her visual examination of my groin.  Finally, she shuffled her little butt on my couch until she was satisfied with her positioning.  "Okay, you can play with it, but I don't want you to cum yet.  If you cum without my permission, I'll leave and we'll never do this again.  Clear?"

Once I began stroking, Amy turned her eyes back to the history files on the Internet.  She had uncrossed her legs and now sat, perfectly poised, high heels together as she leaned forward and clicked the mouse pad with her slender fingers.  Occasionally she glanced at me and smiled while shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she sat up, turned slightly toward me and used both hands to put her hair behind her shoulders.  "I have to say, James, and don't take this the wrong way because you ARE a nice guy.  But you're also a complete penis pumping jerkoff, aren't you?"  She burst into laughter at her own joke.

"Yes Miss Amy."

She pushed her hair back from her head again and focused in on me.  "The girls at school always try to predict who are the studs and who are the jerks.  You were the subject of much debate.  Me and Tina were totally right.  Lucy, Emily, and Michelle were wrong.  I can't wait to tell them all!"

"Please don't," I said, panic suddenly enveloping me.

"Relax, James."  She stood and smoothed her skirts.  "It's our little secret.  But I want to make you suffer a bit.  Only because I can.  I feel like some frozen yogurt.  Stop masturbating, put your clothes back on, and let's go."

I held the door for Amy, and took the wheel.  On the way to the store, Amy laid down some groundwork for what was to become the nature of our relationship.  "You know, James.  I'm a busy girl.  Between school and my start-up, it's hard for me to find time to shop for groceries, clean my condo and run errands.  I could really use a good gopher boy."  There wasn't the slightest bit of sarcasm in her voice.  She was dead serious.

I took a deep breath.  "I can totally be that person, Miss Amy."

"Good.  I will appreciate the help.  Now you do realize everything will be 100% on my terms.  I will ignore you for weeks at a time.  Then I might need you for several days in a row.  Who knows, right?  You should never call me for any reason.  Ever.  Got it?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Good.  I will call you when and if I need you.  You should be ready to do whatever I need you to on a moment's notice.  Understand?"

"I understand."

"Good."  She pondered, clearly quite pleased with the arrangement she'd just dictated to me.  "How do your balls feel right now?"

"They are so sore, Miss Amy."

She giggled.  "I think I like them that way.  Tell me, why are they so sore?"

I blushed, not sure what to say.

"It's okay," she encouraged me in a soothing, feminine voice that made my balls ache even more.  She put her hand on my thigh.  "I need to hear it.  Tell me why your balls are so sore, James."

This was an important moment between us.  I struggled to get the words out.  "Because you're so beautiful.  You are dressed so nicely.  You smell so nice.  Your body is so," I paused.  "Incredible."

Amy listened intently before responding.  "I really have you?  Don't I?  Tell me, what part of my body makes your balls the sorest?" 

I knew the answer, but was afraid of saying it for fear of making Amy uncomfortable. 

She smiled, narrowing her eyes.  "Go ahead, James.  I want you to say it.  Don't be shy.  Which of my female body parts makes your penis the hardest, and your balls the sorest?"  She squeezed my thigh and slid her pinkie down to the edge of my groin.

"Your vagina," I mouthed, amazed at Amy's confidence.  "Every part of your body is perfect, but your vagina is the center of your, uh, power.  But your feet also...those high heels.  I just want to worship them for you."

Amy giggled again.  "Good to know."  She sighed with pleasure.  "You're like totally be in heaven, having a babe like me boss you around, huh?

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Good.  Get used to it then.  Because I could really use the free help, and I'm more than willing to use you for my personal gain.  Are you okay with that?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"Just so you know, I won't feel the least bit sorry for you when I make you do menial chores for me.  And I especially won't be sorry about sexually humiliating you since you obviously enjoy being dominated by women so much."  She laughed at the windshield in front of her and sighed contemplatively.

"This makes this an ideal relationship for the both of us then.  I get your total servitude and you get the pleasure of serving a higher power." 

The ice cream shop was excruciating.  Miss Amy ordered a small strawberry frozen yogurt.  Then she made me sit there across from her while she slurped down the frozen treat seductively, her little tongue darting out and sliding its way around the cone.  "Try not to cum in your pants please, James," she said, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

She insisted we hold hands on the way back to the car ("you can pretend you're really my stud muffin").  Amy took her middle finger and massaged the inside of my palm with it, laughing the whole time.  My nuts had become so sore I had to squeeze my legs together on the ride home, a detail that did not escape the observant Amy.  "I don't understand guys like you at all," she said.  "All I have to do is be near you and look at you," she laughed.

When we got back to my place, she decided to take pity on me.  "I don't want you to think I'm a bitch," she said.  "I think you'll find me to be a perfectly fair master."  She paused to let that word sink in.  "I think you deserve a reward for your obedience.  My class isn't for another hour.  Let's go back inside and give you some needed frustration relief.  How does that sound?"

"Great, Miss Amy!"

"I thought you'd like that, slave boy."  Her patronizing look of superiority was priceless.  We both felt it.  We both knew it.

Back inside, Amy permitted me to take my clothing off again and kneel before her.  She was totally at ease with her new role as she slid one of her high heels beneath my open legs so that the tip of it was pressed just below my anus.  The front of her narrow ankle pressed up on my sore nuts and caused them to splay lewdly apart from one-another.  "Does that hurt?" she asked.

"No, Miss Amy."

"How about this then."  She took her foot back and gave me a decent kick in the nuts." I grunted, and she smiled.  "That felt good.  I could use a few more of those, but maybe some other time, when you aren't as obedient as today."  She pulled her foot back and placed it next to her other foot.  "Tell me when you're going to lose it, James."

"I'm going to lose it, Miss Amy!" I said ten seconds later.

She laughed.  "Your face is turning all red.  I wish I had a mirror.  Shoot your mess in the tissue like I know you've been wanting to."

I proceeded to do just that.  This particularly intense orgasm lasted almost a minute.  I came so hard I went momentarily cross-eyed. 

"Wow," she said.  "That was quite a tribute."  Her smile lit up the room.

"Thank...you...miss...Amy," I panted.

Before I could catch my breath, Amy put her hand on my shoulder.  "I think it's time we test your loyalty, James.  Since you didn't get to have any ice cream, I think it's only fair that you get to eat a milkshake," she waited for me to comprehend where she was coming from.

I didn't really like the idea.  Amy was so perceptive that she could sense my reluctance.  "Oh, come now, James.  It'll be good for you.  A special protein shake.  You DO want to please me, don't you James?"  Amy did something absolutely incredible.  She pointed directly at her crotch, the small rise in her mini-skirt just below her belt.  "You DO want to please IT, don't you?"  Her voice was not at all unkind.  It was firm, feminine and coaxing.

"Yes Miss Amy," I was forced to admit as I felt the power of her words and actions, and weakness came over me.

"Good.  Hand me your protein shake.  I want to personally feed it to you."

I did as I was instructed.

"I think this is a wonderful sign of my complete superiority, don't you?  This way you get to do something disgusting that you don't want to do, just to please me.  Now, open wide and stick out your tongue.

In case there was any doubt whatsoever of the situation I was in, Amy reached gently down between my legs with her free hand and gathered up my balls like a pair of grapes.  I felt the pressure increase until I felt a dull pain in my stomach.

"Now, lean forward a bit.  Show me how eager you are to please me!  That's it!  Show me how much you want to eat your load, James. [Speaking directly in my ear]  Slurp it up.  And chew it on it a bit.  Open wide so I can see.  There we go.  Perfect."

I gobbled up my snack like a starving boy from a third world country who hadn't had nourishment in several days.  Amy didn't let up.  "Make sure you eat every last squirt.  Perfect."  She placed the toilet tissue down on the table, while continuing to grip my balls.  With the hand that had been holding the tissue she took my chin.  "I think sperm is probably quite healthy," she said.  "What do you think, James?"

"I don't know, Miss Amy." I said.  The truth was I was in the middle of the most intense sexual experience of my life.  My mind wasn't working.

"I think it has to be really healthy," she said, clearly mocking me with her silly self-debate.  There's got to be tons of protein and nutrients in all that semen I just made you eat.  You should really thank me.  I just fed you a well-balanced diet.  It's probably better than the crap you usually eat."  She laughed triumphantly in my face.

For the first time since our encounter, I saw a sign of Amy's bitchy side, as she effectively closed the deal on our relationship.  With elation blended with dread, it hit me - in a matter of an afternoon, Amy had proven herself to be a divine, young dominant Woman.  "Thank you, Miss Amy," I said.  Tears of joy formed in the corners of my eyes. 

Amy pointed down to her vagina again, still nestled out of view.  "You need to thank it as well," she said, elevating her voice.  "Say 'Thanks Amy's vagina!"

"Thanks Amy's vagina!"

"It says you're welcome!" Amy said.  She released my balls and stood, dusting her hands off after the completion of a job well done.  She checked her watch.  "Oh, looks like I'm late for class."

From that day onward, I was Amy's property.

END

James Pendergrass femdom novels @ www.lulu.com/jmplays and Cafeboudoir.com

Chapter Two - Kneel

After our initial mind-blowing afternoon, I wondered if Amy would begin to see the benefits of having a manservant (me) at her disposal.  My hope was that the most erotic femdom moment of my life would be followed by frequent weekly get-togethers. 

It didn't quite work out that way - at least initially.

Amy was a busy girl.  She had a great social life and - after the first humiliation - I didn't see much of her.  On the few occasions I did see her, she inevitably was with a group of people and I didn't feel comfortable approaching her.  Amy, in turn, barely gave me so much as a token glance.  I'm sure you can imagine how frustrating this was.

There was little I could do about the state of affairs.  Amy had been very clear with my status in her life:  If she wanted me she would let me know.  Otherwise, leave her alone.  She was a young, career-oriented woman and didn't have time for someone like me unless she had nothing better to do.

For an entire month after she first sexually humiliated me, Amy gave me exactly zero attention, with one small but notable exception.  It happened about three weeks after our afternoon.  She was in the hall with a couple of women.  As I passed them, Amy and I made eye contact.  As the other girls conversed, Amy turned toward me very discreetly, and opened her mouth.  Out darted her little tongue.  She raised her eyebrows, while wagging her tongue back and forth and suggestively pointed her finger at her mouth and then at me.  The implications were clear.  I nearly melted when she winked at me, before she turned her narrow neck and re-engaged the other ladies in conversation. 

A week after that, I was just about ready to give up.  I figured Amy had her fun with me and was no longer interested in anything kinky.

It was a Thursday afternoon and I was outside school in my usual spot, puffing on a butt.  I heard the clicking of high heels on pavement, a sound that will always cause me to turn my head in a hurry.  Imagine my delight when I saw it was Amy.  Not only that, but Amy looked smoking hot on this day, even by her lofty standards.  She wore a light cream skirt, which fit snugly against her ridiculous little body, thanks in part to a matching white belt that served to delineate her upper and lower body as well as highlight her spectacular hips.  The skirt was cut high, but not sluttily so - maybe four inches above her knees.  As she moved, the dress offered occasional glances of her luscious thighs.  This afforded me a tantalizing view of Amy's lower body, which looked especially appetizing thanks to her sheer pantyhose and stylish cream-colored pumps. 

As she always did, Amy moved fast, gliding with perfect posture and grace over the concrete entranceway to the building.  By her standards she moved even faster than normal, and she had an annoyed look on her face.  I couldn't help but admire her as she strode away from the building.

Her sixth sense promptly kicked in and she turned her head to meet my stare.  After studying me for a moment, she smoothly altered her route and stride right over until she stood just above me (I was sitting).  She glared down with a look of determination.  Then, I saw a change in her face, as her features softened and she was inhabited with an amused look, as if maybe life wasn't so bad after all. 

"I thought I told you not to smoke anymore," she said.  She was dead serious.

"Sorry," I said, listlessly.

Amy pointed to the ground at her feet.  "I want you to get rid of it," she said.

I felt myself overcome by her dynamic feminine presence.  My heart rate quickened.  I put the cigarette on the ground between us.  Amy stepped down on the cigarette and twisted her foot back and forth, making extra certain the butt was extinguished. 

Our eyes met.  Amy's seemed quite pleased with her power over me, but the satisfaction was short-lived.  The irritated, almost-pained expression returned to her pretty face.  "What is it with men?" she said finally.  I began to reply but she cut me off.  "James, it's a rhetorical question.  Duh."  She smiled before continuing.  "No, seriously.  I am going to kill Professor Fowler.  He's a complete dipshit."  She stared off in the distance; no doubt recalling whatever the professor had done to wrong her.  When she spoke again, her words cut me to the core.  "I think I'm going to take it out on you," she said finally.  Then, recognizing the lustful look in my face, she snickered.  "I can tell that's more than okay with you.  Let's go," she turned and began walking before adding, "Move it."

One look at that sweet piece of ass walking away from me and I rushed to follow her.

We drove in tandem back to my place.  She didn't say anything as I escorted her inside my apartment.  She didn't even comment on the obvious bulge in my pants as I held the door for her and followed her inside.

She sat down on the couch, busy with her mobile device, only pausing for a few brief words.  "Take your clothes off.  All of them."

I began to comply with the order when her voice cut through the air.  "When I tell you to do something, you need to acknowledge it properly.  Otherwise this isn't going to work." 

I turned to see that she wasn't even looking at me when she spoke.  She was busy reading and replying to a text message on her iPhone.  "Yes Miss Amy," I said.

She kept right on texting without saying a word.  This was a more serious side to Amy that I hadn't seen.  My stomach churned with anticipation at what was to come.  When I had removed everything, I was about to kneel respectfully in front of my gorgeous female conqueror, but Miss Amy was having none of it.

She pointed to the other side of the room.  "Stand with your back against the wall.  And spread your legs," she said.  She waited until I had complied with her command.  I was then made to wait there almost five minutes while she conducted business on her cell phone.  Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she placed the cell phone in her purse, rose from the couch and faced me. 

Amy placed her hands on those spectacular hips and stared me down.  "Somebody is happy to see me today," she said, glancing down at my erection, which pointed almost directly at Amy's face in a combination of awe, respect, and admiration. 

"Yes, Miss Amy," said with a raspy voice.

Already confident to begin with, the sign of my sexual arousal only further enhanced Amy's commanding presence.  My blood was surging through my veins at the thought of having this 27-year-old woman, at the height of her physical and mental beauty, bossing me around. 

She continued:  "I was bored the other day in economics, so I decided to read up on guys like you," she said.  "Do you know that a lot of wimps like you enjoy it when a girl kicks them right in the balls?"  She glanced again at my quivering penis before our eyes met again.

"hmm," I said.

Amy stepped forward until we were face to face and I could smell the sweet, tantalizing feminine odors floating outside the surface of her body.  She spoke with that sweet voice of hers again: "Don't play dumb with me, James.  Would you like it if I kicked you in the balls?" 

The truth was, I feared the consequences, but I loved the idea of it.  The notion of this super sexy girl - a tiny little waif who I could force to the ground in a heartbeat - physically dominating and humiliating me, was a major turn-on.  I decided to play it straight.

"Yes, I would like that, Miss Amy," I said.  Then, getting bold, "It would be an honor for me and my balls to provide you with some exercise and maybe frustration relief."

Amy's face lit up.  She laughed heartily.  Our eyes met again, and I thought I saw a hint of affection for me.  She  repeated my words..."It would be an honor for me and my balls..." in my own deep voice before shaking her head in mock disgust.  "Actually, you hit the nail on the head, James.  I totally could use some frustration relief and your balls are the perfect solution.  I'm going to kick you around a bit, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Amy.  Thank you for the honor, Miss Amy."

"Take it easy on the 'honor' stuff, James.  It's weird," she said.  Then she spoke with a slight edge to her voice.  "Just stand there and be quiet.  It's your balls I'm interested in right now."

I did as I was told.  Meanwhile, Amy was faced with a conundrum.  She began lining up kicks, but balance was an issue.  The problem is that I had a plush carpet and it was difficult for her to get footing in her dope high heels.  "I guess I'm going to have to take my heels off," she said reluctantly.

To me, this was a bummer.  I wanted her to kick me with her high heels on.  It would be much hotter.  I decided to take a chance.  "Miss Amy, I can help you keep your balance.  I put my head down and leaned forward.  "You can lean forward and put your hand on my head," I said, voice again raspy with anticipation.

A look of amusement came over her face.  "You really want me to do this.  Don't you?" 

"Yes, Miss Amy."

She considered it for a moment.  "Then I think you should ask me very nicely, and sincerely to kick your nuts for you."  She paced back and forth, her mind churning out thoughts.  "Why don't you say, 'Oh please, superior Miss Amy, kick my balls into next week for me.'"  She laughed at her own phrasing.

When I did as she instructed, she said.  "Well then, alley ooop!"

Amy braced herself with her hand against the front of my scalp.  I strained to get a view of her lovely body as her leg pulled back and her virgin ballbusting leg and foot came throttling forward.  I heard the rustling of her skirts as her foot shot up between my legs and met its target.  Tha-thump!  It was the sound of a double impact as her little foot crashed into my nuts and my penis slapped back against my stomach.  I was quite surprised at the accuracy of her assault as well as the force of her kick.  It took my breath away.  My knees bowed inward and my feet slid toward one-another, a reflexive attempt to protect my weakness.  "C'mon - I barely kicked you - keep your legs spread," Amy encouraged sweetly, her voice layered with a sudden focus and concentration.   

CRASH!  Another big kick caused my ass to bounce up into the air in a reflexive failed attempt to lessen the blow.  My feet briefly left the ground.  As my feet came back down, Amy was stunningly prepared.  I didn't notice that she had kept her knee up in the air following the second kick.  This enabled her to launch a rapid-fire third kick.  WHOMP!!   Because my balls came down to meet her rising foot, the impact was deadly.  I watched in horror as my balls pancaked on top of the bridge of her shoe for a split-second before they and my dick went flying in every conceivable direction.  My only plausible reaction was to collapse to the floor as the pain hit my stomach.

"Oooo," I heard Amy say with a definite tone of satisfaction.  "Caught you off guard with that one." 

I was in such pain, it took me a full minute to stagger to my feet.  In fact, I might not have made it up if not for the carrot Amy dangled in front of me.  "C'mon," she said.  "I want more kicks.  I'll tell you what - take a few more kicks from me and I'll let you do a big jerkoff show for me.  Wouldn't you just LOVE that, James?"  She laughed.

That was enough to motivate me in spite of the severe stomach pain I was dealing with.

I stood and Miss Amy was just glowing.  "You should have seen your scrotum and your penis on that last kick, James.  They went FLYING!"

Still dazed from her third kick, I was in no mood to respond.  So Amy cut in again.  "Come on?  I thought you wanted this.  Aren't you having fun?"

"I- No Miss Amy," I conceded.

"Then why didn't you stay down," she inquired.  "I won't kick you again if you don't want me to."  She looked at her watch.  "In fact, maybe I should just leave.  I already feel better."

"Wait!" I said, remembering her offer.

She smiled that devilish smile at me.  "I think I'll call you James the Jacktard," she said.  "That is definitely your new name.  Now spread your legs, James the Jacktard.  I need a few more kicks before I let you do your shameful compulsive masturbation routine for me.  Understand?"

"Yes, Miss Amy," I said with a note of dread.

"Good.  I want you to say-" she paused to consider and her face lit up again.  "Say, 'Dear Superior Miss Amy - it would be an honor if I, James the Jacktard, could serve as a needed frustration reliever for you, while learning additional humility.  Please scramble my eggs for me.'"

I tried to remember the words as best I could.  Miss Amy kept her hands on her waist and waited patiently.  She made me repeat it several times until I said the words to her liking.  She even made me clasp my hands in prayer to, in her words, "show proper respect for your superior." 

This time she launched three rapid-fire kicks, each one harder than the previous.  I was ready to go down after the second kick, but she planned it out so that her fit little body was ready to launch kicks like an AK-47.  She landed one last especially solid kick to my gonads as I was in the process of crumpling to the floor.  I tried to put my hands up to prevent that third, deadly kick, but I was too late.  I felt my balls compress around the front of her pump and my eyes go as big as silver dollars before I took the plunge. 

It wasn't that Amy kicked ferociously hard, but her kicks were remarkably solid, and came so quickly that my balls couldn't adequately recover from a kick before the next one invaded my groin.  I looked down at my balls.  They were slightly bigger than normal and a dark pink color.  I laid on my side and my listless semi-hard penis (apparently unable to decide if it was aroused or terrified) pointed at an angle toward the floor.

Amy walked around the wreckage that was my body to get a good view of my groin.  "Okay I think I'm through batting your genitals around for the time being.  They look appropriately swollen"  I heard Amy's skirts rustle above me.  "Oh my goodness that was FUN," she added."  I watched her as she strutted her way smoothly over to the couch, sat down, and began sending text messages to lord knows who.

Squeezing my legs together, I willed myself to my feet.  I staggered over to the fridge and pulled a handful of ice from the freezer.  I wrapped the ice in a paper towel and pushed it into my throbbing nuts. 

Amy's shrill, high-pitched voice penetrated the air.  "Um, excuse me.  Did I give you permission to ice your scrotum?"

"No, Miss Amy."

"Come over here."

I walked over to the couch and faced Amy, full Monty on display.  After pausing for a moment, Amy scooped her hand up between my legs and grasped my balls firmly with her fingertips, pulling my scrotum downward until I had no choice but to bend my knees until we were face-to-face.  She held me in place and just looked at me, the corners of her lips turned up slightly in a wry grin.  I could see the gears are turning in her head.  My knees were become sore and I strained to hold my position.  She continued to hold me for a good minute or two, occasionally adjusting her grip on my balls.  Her adjustment, combined with her scent, caused me to stiffen.  Amy's smile broadened as she watched her magic touch invade my body until my dick was pointing to the ceiling in a respectful salute.

Finally she spoke:  "How would you like to put on that penis-jerking show that I promised you, James?"  When I confirmed my eager desire, Amy seemed to really find her voice.  "I'm not going to make it easy for you.  It has to be entertaining for me.  Before I allow you to jerk it, I want to see you send your silly package flying.  Then I'll let you spank it.  Ok, go!"

I was confused.  "What do you mean, Miss Amy?"

"I want you to slap your own nuts for me, like a perverted dog putting on a show for its master."

I felt myself weaken under the feminine command of this young woman.  Without hesitation, I reached between my legs and smacked my own balls.  It was a good solid rap, and I winced at the pain.

Amy threw her head back, her narrow upper body following until she bounced off the back of the couch, laughing.  I loved the way the cushion momentarily embraced her lithe little body before bringing it back in my direction.  She quickly composed herself, tossing back her hair with a well-practiced flip of her neck.  Her eyelids narrowed.  "I want you to do it much harder.  And this time I want you to spread your legs and stick your crotch out so I have the perfect view."  She sat forward and placed her knees together, waiting for me to comply with the order.  She spoke as though she was the teacher and I was the student (not exactly a stretch when you think about what was happening).  "If you don't do it hard enough, you can forget about me watching you masturbate.  You'll have to do it by yourself when I'm gone.  You wouldn't want that now.  Would you James?"

My balls were already swollen.  But I was determined to earn the right to whack off in her presence.  I took a deep breath and whipped my hand between my legs.  SMASH!  I delivered a ferocious open-palmed blow to my own balls and promptly collapsed at Miss Amy's feet.  I could hear her laughter as I rolled around on the floor.  "Okay James, I'd say you've been pretty severely humiliated.  Don't you?"

"Yes Miss Amy."

"And now you've earned the right for something beyond even your wildest imagination.  But not mine.  Now kneel before me."

She stuck her foot beneath my groin and propped up my package.  "I came up with this great idea," she began, "Of how to make your jacking off as humiliating as humanly possible.  Stay right there - don't move an inch."

Amy stood and walked over to my open kitchen area.  She began rummaging through my cabinets.  "You DO have flour I hope?"  When I confirmed I did, she seemed particularly pleased.  Amy grabbed the flour, as well as some salt, pepper, a small glass bowl, and a spoon.  "Start playing with your penis," she said as she walked back over.  I had an inkling of where this was going and I didn't like it at all.

She placed all the items on a coffee table.  Then she took the bowl and reached down between my legs with it.  "Shoot your load into the bowl for me.  And hurry up."

I strained to comply.  Amy reached forward and began caressing my chest with her hand.  Her simple touch made me tingle all over.  She tweaked my nipples and put her face within a centimeter of my own, her scent pouring onto me and triggering my lustful male hormones.  “You know I’m going to make you eat it, James,” she remarked. That did the trick, as I felt her superiority wash over me. I promptly groaned and had an ear-splitting orgasm into the bowl.  Something about the way she so easily pushed my buttons was so erotically pleasing to me.  When I started spurting, she laughed.  “You must be hungry!”  She tilted the bowl to help ensure she caught every single drop of my sperm.  It was a tremendous orgasm - my regular readers know that I always shoot huge loads, but this one was big by even my lofty standards - thick, long jets of sperm, a seemingly endless emptying of my swollen sack.  I couldn't help but grunt and groan as I jerked out the last too drops - it was that intense.

After studying me carefully with detached interest, Amy snickered, then condescended.  "You look and sound just like a pig when you ejaculate, and you sure shoot a lot of goo.  Which will make what I’m out to do even more enjoyable."

She licked her lips in anticipation and placed the bowl on the coffee table.  My joints ached from the intensity of my orgasm.  Amy ordered me to turn at a 90-degree angle, so I could watch her.  She stayed right in my face, keeping the heat on me. "Put out your hands, palms down again, like a good, obedient dog.  That's it."  She sniffed the air.  "Eww, your hand smells like dirty penis."

I knew what was coming next.  Amy took a heaping teaspoon of the flour and dumped it in the bowl where my big, chunky load festered.  Then she sprinkled a liberal amount of salt and pepper in the bowl.  After that, she began mixing it all together with the spoon.  Thanks to the flour, the mixture began to resemble bread dough.  I was surprised at the amount of "food."  There looked to be at least two heaping spoonfuls.  Amy was very thorough in making sure the cum/flour/pepper/salt mixture was all very well dispersed.  She really was the picture of concentration. 

Finally, she turned to me with a smirk on her pretty face.  "You know where this is going.  Don't you, James?"

I could feel my face turning red and my stomach start to churn.  "Yes, Miss Amy."

She spoke articulately. "I really enjoyed making you eat your own cum the last time we did this.  It felt so-" she searched for the right word, "liberating.  And deeply satisfying.  But being a perfectionist, I wanted more.  I wanted to make the forced meal bigger, and less appetizing for you.  I think, in a philosophical sense, this will make it even more satisfying than last time.  It's the idea of making you do something against your own will simply because I have the power over you to do so."  Her eyes bore into mine until she was sure I got the message.  She continued in her very thorough matter-of-fact, girlish tone.  "Also, thanks to the flour, you will truly be EATING something this time.  That way I can say, with 100% accuracy, that I forced you to EAT it.  Now open wide."  

Suddenly I felt a tad nauseous.  Why was I doing this?  I had gotten my rocks off.  I wasn't really in the mood.  And I didn't like the way she was suddenly lording it over me.  I hesitated and contemplated my next move.

Miss Amy put down the cum bowl and with one hand she took hold of my arm.  When she had my attention (as if she’d lost it), she pointed her finger downward toward her midsection.  She batted her eyelashes and said, "You're not really going to defy me?  Are you James?  Don't forget the power I hold over you.  Don't forget about this."  She motioned to her crotch and the most powerful of all organs hidden neatly behind her skirt and panties.

The site of that perfectly flat area just below her belt, framed so perfectly by her perfect hips made me weaken.  The view caused my entire upper body to buzz, and my penis to spring back to life only three minutes after my orgasm.  I opened my mouth in an act of pure submission.  Then Amy surprised me by putting the cum-gunk back in the bowl.  "Wait - this isn't quite right," she said.  "I want you to see what I'm making you do.  I want it to really sink in.  Do you have a full length mirror?"

"Yes, Miss Amy.  In my room."

"Let's go then."  She took my wrist rather than my hand - another subtle act of power - and walked me into the other room.  I went obediently.  "Perfect," she said, eyeing my mirror.  "The best of both worlds."  She sat down on my bed and ordered me to sit in the floor at her knees.  We both faced the mirror.  Amy took a spoonful of cum.  "James the Jacktard - I know it's a mean term, but you don't care.  You like when I'm mean to you, right?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."

"Isn't it amazing the stupid things I can make you do?"

"Yes, Miss Amy."  I was transfixed, but increasingly concerned about how the "meal" would taste.

She held out the spoon and took hold of my throat with her free hand.  Every move of hers was so precise and confident.  I looked in the mirror and it occurred to me how complete Miss Amy's domination was over me.  "You need to know that this isn't about you getting your rocks off and enjoying yourself.  It's about my enjoyment.  Now open wide," she used that teasing, hypnotic voice of hers.  "Be a good boy and clean up your paste, James."

I couldn't believe how awful it tasted!  My eyes watered and I began to gag.  Amy squeezed my throat.  "Chew on it, jackass," she said bluntly.  "I want to see your jaw going up and down.  That's it.  Now swallow."  My gag reflex totally kicked in as I swallowed, the thick gum-like paste clogging the back of my throat.  I panted and made a sour face.  Amy laughed.  Her face was positively glowing with joy and determination.  She looked so fucking beautiful. "Look at you, you cum eating pig.  That's right.  You do what Miss Amy tells you to do, no matter how unappetizing it is."  She laughed as she saw me struggle with the nasty taste.  “Tell me how yummy it tastes, James.  Go ahead I’m waiting.”

“It’s yummy, Miss Amy,” I panted.

She laughed, with great joy, and great femininity directly into my face. 

I absolutely burned with abject humiliation as her words combined with the disgusting spunk made it the most humiliating moment of my life.  Then it hit me.  I love it!  I am Miss Amy’s loser slave!  I must please this superior being.  And all Women are superior to men!  Faced with Miss Amy's sheer beauty, I was determined to satisfy my superior young mistress.  I put my heart into it, licking the first spoon load clean, showing her the utmost respect.

This caused her to laugh again.  "Now you're starting to enjoy it, you cum-eating loser."  She scooped up another big spoonful and the process repeated itself.  "Munch munch," she said.  "Chew every last chunk, just like a good little lackey," she laughed.  "Now look me in the eyes when you swallow.  Perfect.  I think I'm going to find good use for you." I felt her foot jab its way against my dick.  I flinched in stunned surprise.  This seemed to please Amy.  She pressed her hips forward until she was in a good position to pin my penis to my thigh.  Then she stuck the bowl, which contained the remnants of the cum, directly into my face.  "Lick it clean, James.  Think of what's between my legs."

I felt my face again just burn with humiliation as I lapped up the disgusting mess.  Amy removed the bowl from my face and placed it on the bed.  She held my chin until I was facing her.  She looked composed, as opposed to me who I'm sure looked totally disheveled.  With Amy's free hand, she reached down bunched my scrotum, pulling upwards while simultaneously ordering me to stand and face her.

"I've turned you into this sort of weird, self-sustaining organism that survives on protein generated from your own swollen gonads," she said with a smile.  I felt her words penetrate me to the core. "Isn't that something?" A squeeze of my balls reminded me to acknowledge her comment. 

"Yes Miss Amy," I managed to grumble.

Miss Amy suddenly had that sadistic look come across her pretty face.  She uttered one word:  "Disgusting."  Then she pulled her hand away from my groin, and in doing so she wrenched my balls.  The move momentarily stunned me, and before I could recover, Amy gave me a swift and solid kick in the balls.  The noise of perfect female-shoe-to-male-nuts impact echoed throughout my bedroom.  She was already walking away by the time I hit the floor.  Then she appeared in the doorway.  She threw something small at me that hit me in the head enough to hurt.  I picked it up.  It was dental floss.

"Use that to get your gunk from your teeth.  Then eat that too," she laughed loudly, with great pleasure.  "Things are going to be different from now on, James.  I'm going to use you as I wish.  Sleep on that one, loser.  Bu-bye."

End of Chapter Two

Do you like the story?  It only gets better.  The entire 37,000 word novel is available at my website:  www.lulu.com/jmplays