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Old 05-Mar-22, 22:21
kellyhall kellyhall is offline
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Default Amanda Reagan, Security Officer



Then

I was walking toward the game room at the mall, where I always started Saturday night. It was a little crowded, and there was a skinny girl in a security shirt blocking the door repeatedly saying “Sorry, you can’t come in here.” In an aggressive voice I said “No mall cop’s gonna tell me what to do! I’m going in!” I started to move forward. She raised her stick and yelled “Halt!” I tried to get past her and she swung, hitting me on the left thigh just above my knee, I felt my knee buckle and started to fall, putting my left hand down to catch myself while raising my right hand defensively. She dropped her stick and grabbed my right wrist with both hands. Rapidly twisting it, she forced my arm high on my back. I was now down on both knees with my arm in a painful hammerlock. A second later I felt her foot on my back, pushing me down. As I fell to the floor she fell on top of me, knocking the wind out of me. She pinned my elbow with her knee, and grabbed my left wrist with both hands, twisting it also behind me. A few seconds later I felt her handcuffs being snapped on to my wrists.

By this time a crowd was starting to surround us. She leaned close to my ear and said “Get up, asshole, I’m taking you in.” I was just realizing that a girl 6 or 7 inches shorter than me, and probably 50 pounds lighter, had beat me in maybe 15 seconds. For God’s sake, I was the quarterback on the high school football team, and lifted weights every day. But there we were, she was pulling me to standing while announcing “It’s OK, everybody, the situation is under control.” She meant, of course, that she had me under control! The crowd was starting to laugh and pull out cell phones to take pictures. I knew the Security Office was nearby, and just wanted to get out of public view. She hooked her right arm under my left arm and pushed down on my shoulder, forcing me to bend over. The leverage she had with that hold was shocking, and I just yielded to her, and stayed bent over. She leaned in again and whispered “My stick is bigger than yours, Bozo. If I have to use it again you’ll regret it.” I felt a rush of sexual excitement and confusion.

She pushed me in a direction away from the Security Office. I exclaimed “It's the wrong way!” She leaned close to my ear again. “Shut up, I know what I doing. You comply with my orders.” She was walking me the long way around the mall! I quickly realized that she was taking me on a humiliating “perp walk” for no other reason than to demonstrate her dominance over me. At the same time, I felt the most incredible hard-on that I had ever had. I cursed my body for responding to this real threat with sexual pleasure, but I couldn’t help it. As we passed through the crowd there were lots of jeers and wisecracks, and dozens of cell phones taking videos of my predicament. I felt myself quivering as she slowly marched me around in a bent over position, her hand firmly on my left shoulder, I stared at the floor trying to hide my face. I could see that she was wearing black leather tactical boots, which turned me on even more. What was wrong with me?

As we came around the final corner what I feared most happened, A group of girls from my school were standing together. One of them noticed me and said “Look!” They all seemed to pull out their phones at the same time and started taking videos. One of them called out “Hi Bobby, who's your date?” That was met with peals of giggles. I felt my face flush and another yelled “Aw, he’s blushing!” The prolonged humiliation, combined with the fear that I was going to cum got to be too much for me. I started to shake and realized that I was going to weep. I tried to hold it back, but I couldn’t. After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the Security Office and she pushed me inside.

There was an older man sitting at the desk. As she escorted me past the desk she called out “Disorderly, Sarge!” His reply was a grunt. In the corridor behind the desk there was a door with the word “Detention” on it. She opened the door and I saw that it was a windowless room with bright fluorescent lighting. It was empty except for a long bench on one wall, with a metal rail attached to the wall behind it, and a surveillance camera in a corner at the ceiling. On the rail were several handcuffs, with one cuff attached to the rail, and the other cuff open. “Please sit down” she said in a tone that was almost demure, not the commanding one she had previously. She used one of the open cuffs to secure my left wrist to the rail. She leaned over me and pulled my wallet from my pocket. Looking at my ID she said “Alright Robert, I’ll be right back, don’t move, we’ll be watching” and she left the room. It seemed that her voice was almost tremulous.

“Right back” is a vague term. There was no clock and I couldn’t see my watch or phone. Text messages and emails were pinging continuously. I really didn’t want to face the inevitable ridicule. My raging boner finally started to go down, and I sat there dreading what would come next. After what seemed hours, but was probably way less than an hour, she returned with a camera, a placard with my name on it, and some papers. She leaned over me to remove her handcuffs, leaving me shackled to the rail by the left wrist. As she hovered over me I inhaled the distinct aroma of female sex, and I started to get an erection again.

She handed me the placard and said “Hold this under your chin.” She quickly snapped a mug shot and took the placard from me. Handing me a paper and pen, she said “Sign this and you can go.” I quickly read the top of the paper. It said: “Notice of Lifetime Banning from Crestwood Mall Property”. There was some legal stuff about how they could ban anyone they wanted, and a return to the mall would be trespassing. My name and address were filled in after the words “Notice to:”. That was it. No police, no court, no parental notification. I was elated. At the bottom I saw that it was signed “Amanda Reagan” over the words “Security Officer”. Below that was an acknowledgement of receipt of the notice. I quickly signed.

She put a copy of the notice along with my wallet and ID on the bench beside me and went to the door. She opened it and called out: “Ready Sarge.” The old guy appeared at the door, stick in hand. She stood over me. She told me to take my property and the notice with my right hand and put it in my pocket. “I’m going to uncuff you now. Follow my commands or you’ll leave in an ambulance.” Once again I inhaled the intoxicating fragrance of her sex and felt overwhelmed with sexual yearning. She was next to me, handcuff key in hand, “Put your right hand behind your neck. When I uncuff you put your left hand behind your neck and interlock your fingers.” She unlocked me and I did as I was told. She grasped my interlocked fingers and ordered me to get up and walk out of the room. She directed me to a door to the outside at the end of the corridor. She entered a code on a keypad. Pulling the door open with one hand, she pushed me out with the other. “We’re going to be watching you on the monitors. Leave the property in 10 minutes or you’re going to jail.” The door slammed behind me.

For the first time in what seemed hours I was free and on my own. I walked quickly to my car, trying to not draw any attention. As I drove home the enormity of what had just happened hit me. It was the fall semester of my senior year of high school. I was seventeen, almost eighteen, and was quarterback of the football team. There was no way I could survive going back to school, but what choice did I have? If I quit I would be a dropout loser, much less not go to college. If I stayed in school the shaming would be relentless. When I got home I went straight to bed without talking to my parents. I turned my phone off without looking at it. It was a sleepless night.

By morning I had decided to quit. I just couldn’t face going back. My parents were having breakfast. It was obvious from their manner that they had already seen the viral video “Crestwood HS Quarterback Gets Sacked,” showing the mall security images of her taking me down. There was also a video of the entire walk, “A Stroll Through the Mall,” taken by a guy who had apparently followed us. My mother said “Bobby, do you want to talk?” I replied, “I’m not going to talk, and I’m quitting school!” My father said "We know you feel terrible, but don’t make any rash decisions—at least talk to Uncle Chuck.”

My mother’s younger brother Charles was a family hero. He had been in real trouble as a teenager, and yet somehow had beat the odds, graduated from college, and became a successful business owner. He talked me down from the ledge. “You think this is trouble? Shit, by the time I was your age I’d been arrested twice, by the police, and served time in juvie, and not for just a scuffle in the mall. This is nothing more than a speed bump. You put your head down, you don’t listen to anyone, you don’t talk to anyone, you don’t take the bait, you do only what you have to do, and in seven months you’ll be out of this shithole town, and in a place where no one knows you.”

Somehow it worked. I quit the football team. I heard the jokes and jeers, but didn’t respond. And I got into a college far from home where no one knew my shame, or at least never said anything. But I kept thinking about Amanda. Google led me to her high school website, where I found that she had only graduated two years before me, and had been a big jock in wrestling and martial arts. Her LinkedIn page showed some teaching of judo and karate in a dojo after high school, and then “Security Officer, Crestwood Mall” starting 3 months before we “met.” A few months later the security job had disappeared and it showed her in college studying business. She lived in my head. When I jerked off, there was Amanda choking me out. When I was with a girl, there was Amanda, beating the crap out of me. I wanted to send her a note, tell her I was sorry or something, but I worried that she might think I was a stalker, or worse, she might get some kind of restraining order, so I didn’t.



Now

Seven years later I had found a job and an apartment in the city, two hours from my parents if the traffic wasn’t too bad. My fear of running into people I knew from high school had gotten better. I could almost joke about what had happened. One weekend I was back, staying in my old room. After dinner with my parents on Saturday I went out to the local “party bar.” She was there, standing at the bar, talking to two other girls. Her breasts were bigger than I remembered them, and her biceps were fuller and more defined. I debated going up to her. She might tell me to go to hell. She might be gay. On the other hand, it was a bar. People talk to each other. The worst possibility was that she would shut me down; the best was that I would get laid. It was worth the shot.

I walked up to her and said “Hi Amanda, remember me?” She smiled broadly. “Of course I remember you, Robert.” In the periphery of my vision I saw one of her friend’s eyes widen and mouth drop open. Apparently, she knew who I was also. Her friends quickly said “Bye Mandy!” and disappeared. We both stood there grinning at each other. Finally, I said “Can I buy you an apology drink?” She cocked her head. “Sure, but the way I remember it, I should be buying you the apology drink!” We moved down to the end of the bar, which was a little quieter. She ordered a white wine spritzer; I ordered a beer. I was sitting there with a beautiful, sexy girl who had beaten me up and gone out of her way to humiliate me! Life is strange.

We made small talk: college, jobs, sports teams. She told me about her training in wrestling and martial arts. She also told me that she had quit the security job the day after our encounter. After a little uncomfortable pause she put her hand on mine and said “You know what I did to you was pretty terrible. I wanted to apologize to you but I was worried that if I said that I did anything wrong you might sue me and the mall for use of excessive force. But it’s time. Robert, I am really sorry.” I hesitated, then said “That was a long time ago, we don’t have to think about it.” Schmuck! Couldn’t I just accept her apology? And what was ‘don’t have to think about it?’ I thought about it every day! And I couldn’t leave it alone. I said “The one thing I wondered about, you said you'd be right back, and then I sat there for a long time.” She smiled. “Oh, I just had to do the paper work first.”

We had another drink and she loosened up. She told me about starting judo as a child, and then moving on to karate, and eventually to wrestling. Somehow, she got on to the topic of guys and girls wrestling in high school. “Don’t tell me It’s just a sport, there’s no sexual connotation. The girls can hide it better than the guys, but everybody’s pretty much turned on by it. Some of the girls actually liked losing to a guy, but I always wanted to win.” I just stood there listening, sipping on my beer. She told me that in her weight class, 126 pounds, most of the guys she wrestled were younger than she, and less experienced, so that she mostly won. And then, and then, it all started to tumble out.

“I always liked to win, but I really liked getting a submission. If I got a guy locked up in a choke or a spladle he wasn’t going anywhere. It gave me a rush when a guy tapped out, but the bigger turn on was when a guy was fighting it, and he knew he was gone, but didn’t want to tap. You could sort of feel him start to vibrate or shake, panicking like a trapped animal. And, wow, it just gave me an unbelievable juicing!” Juicing? What was that? I thought I knew, but was afraid to ask. And then the confession started.

She looked directly into my eyes. “When I handcuffed you I was on top of you and I could feel you shake. And I got that feeling, and I didn’t want it to end. You were just so cute, trapped like that! So I forced you to walk the long way, just so the feeling wouldn’t end. And Robert, it was so wrong, and I am so, so sorry. I just hope you can tell me that you accept my apology.” We were close together, not talking. I could feel her body heat. And then words I hadn’t planned came out of my mouth.

“I... liked it.”

More silence. I had never revealed my real sexual desires to anyone. I had never asked a girl to choke me, or tie me, or spank me. And the woman next to me was totally opposite: she got pleasure from doing to men what I so wanted a woman to do to me. She put her hand on mine and gave a reassuring squeeze. Another round of weak, pathetic drinks and she started talking again. “The truth is, when I left you in the detention room I was so wet that I had to go take my panties off and clean myself up. And in the bathroom I was thinking about you, and I had to jill off to calm myself down.” Jill off? Oh, if a guy jacks off, then a girl jills off!

She left to go to the bathroom and I texted my father: “Met a friend, probably stay at their house” Twenty-five years old and checking in with your parents? Yuck.

She came back from the bathroom and smiled at me. I wondered if she had been jilling off. “You know,” she said, “I still have the security uniform at home. If you want a re-match you can have it, but I’m pretty sure the outcome is going to be the same.” It was an offer I, obviously, couldn‘t refuse. As we left the bar walking to my car she grasped my arm tightly, and leaned close. “I just want you to know that I don’t sleep with guys on the first date,” she giggled. “Good thing this is our second date.” I didn’t know if she was drunk or crazy, or both, and I didn’t care.

In the car driving to her house she got even more animated, “Ooh,” she said, “Bobby’s in big trouble. He’s walking into a trap and he won't be able to get out of it.” This girl was adorable! She was silent for a while, and then said “I just want you to know that when I diddled in the bathroom, when I had you locked up in detention, I used my stick, so you've got a lot to live up to, fella.” I was being compared to a nightstick, a billy club, a baton! Somehow, I didn’t drive off the road.

Her apartment was nothing special, a one bedroom garden apartment like millions of others. But it was her’s alone—no roommate! --which made it great. She said, “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.” I looked at her, as if to say I’ve heard that before. She quickly said “No, really, really.” In just a few minutes she returned in the same security uniform, with stick and handcuffs. The only difference was that she had knee high black leather boots with high heels. They were sexy, and made her a little taller, but I had been looking forward to the tactical boots.

She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “This entrance is closed, turn around and go away little boy!” I replied “The hell I will! No mall cop bitch is gonna tell me what to do!” I made a feint to go around her, and she pulled her stick and started swinging. But it was a pantomime, and with each swing she barely touched me, and then said “Bam,” or “Pow,” or “Smash,” like the fights on the old Batman show. Following the script, I dropped to my knees and put up my right hand to ward off the blows. On cue she dropped the stick, and grabbed my wrist, twisting it behind me. I felt the spike heel of her boot on my back and dropped to the floor. She lowered herself onto my back, pinned my elbow with her knee, and then, just like before, she pulled my left wrist behind my back and cuffed me.

She leaned close to my ear. “You're my prisoner now, you obey my commands!” Then, “Get up, I’m taking you to detention.” She helped me to standing, and then, she went off script. Reaching around me, she pulled down my pants and shorts. She grabbed my erect cock and started to pull me in circles in the living room. I was worried that I would cum in her hand and ruin everything! Somehow I held off, and she guided me into the bedroom and pushed me backwards onto the bed. As I watched, she took off her boots and pants. She had on lacy black panties which gave me shivers. Then she pulled off her shirt and I saw her gorgeous breasts, displayed like trophies in a black mesh bra. She rolled a condom onto me, and straddled me, lowering herself on to me cowgirl style.

She clamped down and started slowly pumping, her tempo gradually increasing. She had a really bouncy mattress and we easily moved in unison. Then she wrapped her hands around my neck. I suddenly had the thought that she could easily kill me, but her grasp was more of a hug than a choke, and I relaxed. Then she started “Almost... almost... almost,” and then, “yeah, yeah, oh yeah.’’ I exploded. We were both sweating and breathing heavily. She leaned toward me and we had a long passionate kiss. The irony that our first kiss came after sex didn’t escape me. Then she put her lips to my ear and said “Sorry, sorry, I don’t want to hurt you, I never want to hurt you.”

She suddenly realized that I was still handcuffed and quickly reached for the key on the nightstand and unlocked me. She helped me to undress, and we lay in each other's embrace for maybe 15 or 20 minutes. Then she said “Would you like to shower?” I enthusiastically replied “Sure,” and we went into the bathroom. The shower was in the tub, so it was sort of a slip sliding affair, but we managed, with a lot of laughing, to lather and wash each other. There was no dominance, no submission, just two people who liked each other having fun. Her body was athletic, but certainly not muscle bound, which went along with her preferred exercise, running. I ran my hands across her body, caressing and occasionally kissing various parts, as she did to mine. Was this the same woman whose dominance I had reveled in this same night? Afterwards, warm and exhausted, we got back into bed, and fell asleep holding each other.

The morning after a one nighter is weird. In the sober light of day “what was I thinking?” and “how fast can I get out of here?” were usually my first thoughts. But this morning my first thought was “how do I get it again?” I opened my eyes and saw that she was already awake, looking at me with a sweet expression. I said “Last night was great.” Her smile broadened. I was working up to asking to do it again when she said “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. I’m really hungry. Wanna get brunch?” OK, OK, I guess I was on a date. But brunch was a small price to pay to get into her again. “Sounds great, let’s do it!”

It was a warm spring day and we walked to the brunch place, which was maybe 10 minutes away. She looked really cute in running shorts and a sexy sports bra; I was a slob in last night’s clothes. I turned to her as we walked. “Amanda, you don’t have to worry about hurting me, you're not going to hurt me.” She frowned. “I’m just such a weirdo, getting off on beating up guys. And when I did that to you, I realized that I couldn’t trust myself, that I might go way too far, and that’s why I had to quit. I couldn’t let myself be in that position. I just want to have normal sexual feelings, but I can’t.” I replied, “I don’t think there are normal and abnormal sexual feelings. Maybe we’re born with it, maybe we learn it, but the way we are is fixed, and you can't change it. I’m submissive, you're dominant, neither one of us likes it, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

As we walked, she said “I keep thinking that maybe if my parents hadn’t let me do judo when I was eight, I would be different.” I disagreed, saying “I think that you already had your sexual persona when you were eight. You wanted to do judo because of who you already were.” She stopped walking, and turned to me. “At eight? I don’t think so.” “Then when was your earliest sexual thought?” She thought for a second, then laughed. “At nine, asshole.”

I had one idea that I wanted to get across, but we had arrived at the restaurant, so it had to wait. We sat down and looked at the menu. I already knew I would have Eggs Benedict, and there it was. She ordered the same thing. The waitress brought our “free” mimosas. I had to finish my thought, even if the words were in code. “I think,” I said, “that our feelings about that are fixed long before we have formed as rational human beings. You're an adolescent, you’re just starting to figure things out, and that part of you is predetermined, done. You haven’t fully matured, but as far as that goes, you have no choice. But the most important thing is that you shouldn’t let what you can’t change define you as a person.”

“Well, Bobby,” she said, staring at me, “I’m gonna have to think about that.” We sat in silence for a few minutes. She spoke again. “So you really don’t think it makes me a terrible person?” “No, no I don’t, just like I hope you don’t think that of me.” She paused, then leaned over the table and whispered “I just pity the next guy I sleep with because my evil twin sister is going to give him a beating, and I can’t stop her.” I leaned over to her and whispered back “Evil twin sisters are the best, can’t wait to meet her.” She whispered back “Be careful what you wish for, you’ll end up begging for mercy.” This girl really knew how to get me going. We skipped dessert. I paid the bill and we left.

As we walked to her place she took my hand, and started swinging it. “You think you’re going to get it just because you bought me brunch, mister?” I replied “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I was thinking.” She squeezed my hand and said “It sounds like someone needs an attitude correction, and I guess that’s up to me.” I said “Oh, am I in trouble again?” “Robert, you are in so much trouble that even I feel sorry for you.”

In her bedroom we got undressed and kneeled facing each other. She got me in a headlock, and then somehow quickly got me into a body scissor. Before I knew what was happening my head was between her thighs, my lips pressed onto her portal. I was in ecstasy. Sometimes, while she was moving me into a new position her hand would grab my cock, and she would give a long squeeze, as if to say, ‘I control you completely.’ The girl had skills! She moved me around like a rag doll. Being taller and heavier I could have scored some points if I wanted to, but I was having so much fun being womanhandled by this gorgeous girl, why would I? Finally, she put me in a rear choke hold. I realized that she could have really put me out, but she had it carefully calibrated to immobilize me without cutting off the blood supply to my brain. I had a magnificent hard-on. She leaned close to my ear. “You’re trapped, you can’t escape. All you have to do is say ‘I submit to you’ and I’ll let you go.” I shook my head and said “No, no!” I feigned struggling more and she whispered “I’m going to put you out now, don’t fight it baby, don’t fight it, Bobby is weak, Mandy is strong, don’t fight it, you’re going down, Mommy's putting you to sleep, you can’t resist, there you go, going, going, gone!” I made my body limp, except for my cock, which stood at full attention.

She let go of me, and got up to get a condom. She rolled it on me, and straddled me, just as she had the previous night. She started pumping, and last night’s excitement returned instantly. Safe harbor, welcome home! I worried that I would cum too soon. She grabbed my wrists tightly and pinned my hands over my head. I felt controlled by her, safe and secure. A fragment of a poem rattled around in my brain: ‘the woods are lovely, dark. and deep, lovely dark and deep, her vagina is lovely, dark, and deep’. Then I heard, “Almost... almost... almost... yeah, yeah, oh yeah.” Ka-Boom! We saw stars together. Wow, WOW, just WOW.

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  #2  
Old 07-Mar-22, 18:46
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Default Re: Amanda Reagan, Security Officer

thread approved
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Old 07-Mar-22, 21:51
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Default Re: Amanda Reagan, Security Officer

Erotic. Loved the psychology included. I guess we all wonder how we got here.
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Old 08-Mar-22, 00:03
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Default Re: Amanda Reagan, Security Officer

Thanks for your comment. I agree we all wonder "how we got here."
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Old 09-Mar-22, 01:56
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Default Re: Amanda Reagan, Security Officer

That was a great story. Well written and loved how it explored both the psychological and sexual aspect of their relationshiop.
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Old 31-Mar-22, 00:29
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Default Re: Amanda Reagan, Security Officer

Pictures of "Mandy" are here: [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
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