The Cougar and Me

"Tell me your fantasy," I said.

"Fantasy?" she said, obviously trying for time. It was a pretty straightforward request.

"Yes," I said, brushing her cheek with my fingertips, "your fantasy. I watched, remember, and I know you went home alone some nights. So tell me what it was you saw, in your mind's eye, late at night when you got home alone, and the lights were out and fingers got busy."

She laid still for a few moments. I could see her thinking, the way her eyes looked up and right, assembling her thoughts. I liked those little lines that formed between her eyebrows as she thought so hard.

I waited her out, watching.

Finally, she opened her eyes and smiled.

"Promise you won't think I'm crazy and run off?" she said.

I kissed her and said, "promise."

She took a deep breath, let it out, took another, and started.

"In my deepest, darkest fantasy, David, I'm broken," she said.

When I didn't say anything she went on.

"Sometimes it starts as a home invasion, sometimes a carjacking, sometimes I allow myself to be picked up and things go wrong, sometimes I do the tinder thing, presenting myself as a hooker and things go bad. The circumstances change a little in those details."

I didn't say anything and she thought again before she went on.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm successful, David," she said, "you know. I worked my way up, to be cliche' about it, a woman in a man's world. And I enjoy the work. I enjoy running the agency. I enjoy being in charge if we're being honest here."

I was listening to her now, interested.

"But in my fantasy, I surrender. I give up," she said, and she smiled broadly, "and I like it."

"Is that what you need?" I asked.

She looked at me, "speculatively" is a good word, for a long moment.

"I'm not sure you understand," she said. "I don't mind being submissive in bed, you know that. But in my fantasy, it's far beyond that."

She was quiet for a long moment, but again I waited her out.

Suddenly she moved her hips, pulling off of me, rolled out of bed, and headed into the bathroom.

I laid back, smiling to myself, wondering just what was coming.

It was a few minutes and I was beginning to wonder if she was coming back when she came in with fresh drinks and a pot pipe with a healthy bud on a tray.

The drinks went onto the bedside table and then she crawled up onto the bed, doing that thing only a woman can do, sitting back on her feet, while she loaded up the pipe. She hissed in the first hit and that sweet burning leaves smell filled the room as she held the pipe to my lips.

It was very good pot and after a third hit, I felt the buzz moving into a full-blown high.

Her eyes had that redness of good pot as she grinned, not smiled, grinned down at me.

"Can you be that for me?" she asked, holding that odd grin on her face.

And it was my turn to hesitate.

"Hold that thought," she said and rolled, oddly gracefully, off of the bed and headed into her walk-in closet.

When she came back her, well, her demeanor was different. She had been the confident executive cougar. Now she was the student called into the Dean's office, or maybe reporting to her TA. It had nothing to do with her look. She was still the attractive, middle-aged, plump woman she had been. But that core of confidence was gone. It was in her posture and her stance.

"I bought this years ago," she said, "but I've never dared to give it to a man before."

It was obvious she was serious.

"What?" I asked.

She held my eyes for a long, slow ten count.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and moved her hand out from behind her.

"Here is my trust, David," she said, looking up at me, her eyes big, tears overflowing, "so claim me, collar me, BREAK ME!" the last words going up in both volume and pitch.

It took me a minute to figure out what she was offering me.

It was a shock collar. I could tell by the two silvery probes protruding from the leather. It was a thick, pink leather thing and I would later learn that the thick leather contained a series of lithium batteries and some other electronic gadgetry. It was, when you get down to it, a taser controlled by the other thing she handled me, a small flat key fob, just like the one used to open many cars.

The third thing she offered me was a tiny padlock with a tiny key.

"David, you've gotten to me on levels I don't understand," she said, "and I think you're the one to make my fantasy come true."

"LaVerne," I said, laying my palms flat on her cheeks, "are you certain?"

She was squirming, her eyes darting around, not meeting mine.

"LaVerne," I said, "look at me."

And still, her eyes were darting around.

So I slapped her, hard, across her cheek.

"Look. at. me." I snapped.

Her eyes met mine then, tears welling and overflowing.

"You need to understand something, LaVerne," I said, holding her eyes with mine carefully, "I have a deep and wide sadistic streak so what you're asking isn't exactly a chore."

She didn't say anything so I added, "be very careful what you wish for, beautiful, you just might get it."

Her tears were flowing, her nose was running, and the place where I had slapped her was a red, obvious, handprint.

"Do you understand?" I asked.

She nodded and I slapped her again in as close to precisely the same spot as before.

"Do you understand?" I asked again.

"Y-y-y-yes," she said, crying now.

"Offer them again, then," I said."

This time when she offered the collar, the key fob, and the tiny lock and key, I took them.

"Don't move," I said, and started inspecting what she had given me.

I had seen things like this before, but I really didn't know much about them. The collar was actually kind of pretty, almost a choker necklace rather than a collar except for the way the buckle worked with that little hole where the tiny lock would go and the ring where a leash would hook.

I laid the prongs against my thigh and pushed the button on the fob.

My entire leg cramped instantly. The pain lit every nerve ending from my heel to my hip on fire. I reflexively tossed the collar and my fingers brushed the prongs and sent a separate jolt up my arm.

Her eyes were shiny as she watched, not crying, it was more like she was excited.

"Are you certain?" I asked her, shaking my arm out and working my leg.

"You asked, David," she said, "but if you're not prepared to handle the answer I understand."

"Are you certain?" I asked again.

"Yes, David," she said, her voice clear and firm, "terrified, but certain."

"Stand right there," I said, walking across the room, searching for the collar where I had thrown it.

Actually, it wasn't that hard to find. The pink color showed up well in the corner.

"On your knees," I said, and thought for a moment before adding, "Petunia."

"Petunia?" she asked.

"Your collared name," I said, "now. on. your. knees."

I made a production of stretching the collar to its full length.

"Chin up, Petunia," I said and she lifted her chin obediently.

I gently, carefully, adjusted the probes until they were in the hollow under her chin at her throat. If she had been a man they would have been touching the sides of her Adam's Apple. Then I ran the tongue of the collar through the buckle and drew it tight, not to choke, but to make good contact. The final step was putting the tiny padlock through the little hasp and clicking it with an audible "snick."

Her eyes were huge when I looked down at her.

"Last chance," I said, smiling and holding the key out to her, dangling from the delicate gold chain.

She reached out and took it but then laid it in my palm before taking my hand and using it to brush against her cheek. She kissed my palm and said, "no."

I hung the key around my neck and said, "Okay, then, let the lessons begin."

"Stand up," I said and she stood.

"Come along," I said and she followed.

In the front room, I said, "do you know how to do jumping jacks?"

"No," she said, "what are they?"

So I showed her how, standing and then jumping a little, landing with my feet a little more than shoulder width and my hands clapping over my head, then jumping again landing feet together and hands slapping my thighs. I did a half dozen like that.

"Now you," I said.

There was a moment of deer in the headlights look but when I showed her the fob she started.

She was awkward at first, like everyone is when they first do jumping jacks, but after a dozen or so she settled into a rhythm.

"Keep going," I said, going into the kitchen for a beer. While I was in there I realized I was a bit hungry so I rummaged through cabinets and her pantry until I came up with some pretzel sticks.

Back in the front room she was doing the jumping jacks and had the rhythm down now. It was fun to watch. Her breasts were bouncing wildly, and her belly and those interesting saddle bags were jiggling in interesting ways. And she was starting to tire, to breathe heavily.

"How...... many.... do..... I.... have.... to.... do?" she asked.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about that," I said, "I'll tell you when you're done."

I turned on the television and turned on "True Blood," my latest binge-watching series. I made a point of not looking directly at LaVerne but I kept track in my peripheral vision.

She kept doing her jumping jacks but she was tiring badly about the time Vampire Bill had Sookie naked again.

"That's enough for now," I said and she stopped, hands on her knees, panting.

"Lace your fingers behind your head, Petunia," I said, "that'll help you get your breathing back to normal.

She looked fabulous.

She looked wanton.

Her body was a sheen of sweat. Sweat dripped from her chin and her nose. Her hair was wet with sweat and, of course, she had no makeup on. The red mark on her cheek where I had slapped her was barely visible the way her face was flushed and red with the exertion she had been making.

I crooked my finger, beckoning her, and she came to me.

She was still panting and her nose was running.

And I could smell the womanscent of her arousal.

I pointed to the floor at my feet.

"On your knees, Petunia," I said.

She smiled, an oddly happy little smile, and complied.

"LaVerne," I said, holding her eyes, "last chance to say 'no.'"

Her eyes were big but she said, "yes."

So I pushed the button.

The sound she made can only be written as, "eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE," rising in pitch until I expected the neighborhood dogs to start howling. She grabbed at the collar, trying for some clearance. Her eyes were so big I could see a wide band of white around them.

She kept making that sound after I released the button and it took a few more seconds for me to work out that it was a switch rather than a momentary button. I hit the button again and she collapsed, whimpering on the floor.

My reaction was to comfort her but, well, that wouldn't fit my new persona.

So I watched and gave her a couple of minutes to get herself back together.

"Up on your knees," I said when her breathing was back to normal.

She was still breathing in great whistling gasps as she struggled to get back up onto her knees.

"Look at me," I said.

She met my eyes, tears running down her cheeks, her nose running, her mouth open slightly, drooling a little.

"I think that's probably enough, Petunia," I said, "but you need to beg prettily to convince me."

"Please, David, please, no more," she said, very convincingly, meeting my eyes with hers.

"Oh, you can do better than that," I said, and pointed the fob at her, my thumb hovering over the button.

"NO! God, no, please, please," her hands were clasped in the classic begging position.

I let my thumb touch the button.

"NOOOOOOooooooooo," she sort of wailed, and flattened herself on the floor, "please, no, please, no, pleasenopleasenopleaseno," she was saying over and over while she kissed my feet.

I patted her on the head.

"Okay, Petunia, you can get up now," I said.

She managed to get to her knees, crying still but calming.

She took my hand and began kissing it.

"Thank you," she said.

I pulled the little chain over my head, undid the lock, and then took the collar and handed it to her.

"Put this someplace safe," I said.

She took the collar and fob and went back into the closet. I kept the key on its chain around my neck.

When she came back I patted the bed beside me and she crawled up.

I kissed her, very gently, brushed her lips with mine, and smiled.

"It can't all be the pain," I said, "or you'd go insane. So there will always be treats like this."

I brushed my fingers across the red mark on her cheek and then touched the two little red dots where the probes of the collar had touched her. Then I kissed where I had touched, very softly, my lips caressing rather than kissing.

Our lovemaking was slow and gentle. It lingered and neither of us wanted it to end.

Her first orgasm was one of those body-wracking experiences leaving a soaked spot under us.

Her second was gentle.

The third, fourth, and fifth were just little bursts of pleasure for both of us as she squeezed and her vaginal muscles massaged where I was inside of her.

My own release was just as gentle. None of those hard contractions in my belly. Just a flowing, that kept the ecstasy going.

We were both exhausted when I softened and slipped out of her.

I brushed a stray hair off of her face.

Her eyes were closed and she looked about 18 right then.

"Marry me," I said.

But I don't think she heard me. She was already snoring softly.

[Author's note: I did NOT see this coming. Sometimes characters just get away from you and do unexpected things. Let's see where this goes, shall we?]