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{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

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