As you probably know, a "cougar" can be defined as an older woman who preys on younger men. I was the prey of such a woman several years ago, before the term actually was coined.

I was barely eighteen and in my sophomore year of college when I got a Saturday and evening job as a telephone surveyor; much like a telemarketer. The first couple of weeks of employment were in training for a large government contract in which persons selected by computer would be called and we would ask selected questions having to do with health.

During this time, I began to notice a woman who was well put together both in body, dress, behavior and self-assurance,who appeared to be somewhere maybe about forty; think Sheryl Crow. I had the impression at first that she was unapproachable to a youngish guy like myself. Nevertheless, I looked and liked what I saw: Dark brown hair - sometimes in a ponytail and sometimes loose, brown eyes, athletic figure, wide mouth in a face which seemed to have been 'around the block' at least once. I particularly took notice of her legs and how they melded down into her sneakers, boat shoes, heels, or whatever.

And then one day when I had been careless in studying her legs, I glanced up to see Susan - of course, I did not yet know her name - smiling at me. Caught in the act I was!

During the break, she came to me and said, quite boldly and assuredly, "Hello, my name is Susan."

"I'm Strand."

"So, Strand, may I ask, do you like what you see?"

"I guess you caught me, didn't you?"

"Yes. And don't worry; it's flattering to have a young feller like you take notice. Everything look ok with you?"

I had never known a girl or woman to be so forward. Which made her easy to talk to, even though, or maybe because, she was obviously older than me. I probably blushed when I answered: "Yes . . .well, everything I can see."

"My, you are a naughty one. Oops, we are being summoned back to class.. Bye for now."

The classes, and, later, the actual work in the telephone room, was casual dress. So, after a few days of light verbal sparring, Susan came to work wearing a not too immodest skirt which was several inches above her knees. And a top which revealed just a bit more cleavage than she had ever shown before. But I was still just a bit disappointed because her feet were still mostly concealed in her pumps. I'm a foot fetishist, by the way; as well as other things.

Meeting at break, Susan asked, "So, my friend, You still like?"

"Sure do."

"Thank you. And, quite frankly, you are quite a hunk yourself. So, Strand, do you mind much being preyed upon by an old lady like me?"

Naturally, I had to say, "You aren't so old. And I didn't know I was being preyed on." Hesitation. Then, "But if it is so, it's fine by me. After all, you caught me looking in the first place."

"That's true; I almost forgot."

Susan did not say much about her own life situation for quite some time. We limited our chats to light but increasingly vivid flirtation, mostly focused on my appreciation of her in spite of her obvious age and experience edge on me. And then one evening, after work, Susan said, "You know, Strand, I've been thinking; and I've decide that I really should take you in hand and make a man of you."

I was a bit shocked at this, but said, "Really? Well, I guess that might be ok with me."

"I have to warn you though, it might not be quite as easy as you might imagine. You might find me to be a very demanding . . . . um . . . mentor. And I have to take certain . . . precautions, shall we say."

By this time, everything I had seen of her and heard from her was good for me. I was flattered to be the object of attention from an obviously older and much more sophisticated woman who, at the same time, was very physically exciting to me, for what I could see and could imagine. Now, a guy the age I was doesn't like necessarily to think of himself as inferior to any woman, or to not think of himself as less than a complete man. But, I was realistic; I knew that I was inexperienced. And I missed the note in her voice which I would now recognize as one of some danger. So, I said, "I guess I can take whatever you can dish out."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I imagine you can. Now, Strand, I live alone, as you might have guessed by now. I have a daughter, probably about your age; but she is in college right now. And this weekend just happens to be free. So, would you like to come for a light dinner Friday evening? Say about six? Informal. Actually, VERY informal."

"Sure. How informal; how should I dress?"

She laughed at me, and said, "Well, I guess whatever you please, or as little as you please, but not to get either of us arrested or shock my neighbors too much."

So, Friday night arrived with me knocking on her door wearing clean jeans, shirt, and New Balance running shoes with crew socks. And she opened the door wearing much less than ever before, but still enough to stimulate my imagination: very short and tight fitting white shorts, some sort of form fitting and low cut sleeveless top, and white crew socks with no shoes. Not exactly the usual for a woman her age, but great anyway.

I sat in a chair with a drink as I watched Susan finish dinner preparations. Wearing only socks on her feet made her somehow move very sensuously. During dinner, we sat across a small table from each other, and she made the general nature of her intentions know by the way she moved her sock covered foot against my leg.

As we chatted, Susan questioned me some about my previous romantic and/or sexual experience. I told her that I had very little, except maybe for a brief fling with a girl in my freshman year, a 'fling' which had included her giving me oral sex, a'fling' which had ended badly at the beginning of the second semester. I told Susan that I'd really rather not talk about that any more.

"Strand, we both know somewhat of where this is going. But you are a big, strong guy, and I just must take certain precautions. Have you ever heard of bondage?"

"Well, sort of, but never gave it much thought. I did get tied up a couple of times by playmates when I was a kid."

"How did that make you feel?"

"Umm, never thought much about it. Now that you remind me, it did feel sort of . . . weird."

"Well, Strand, if we are to go anywhere together, I'm afraid that I will have to tie you up again. So I will feel secure. Think you can handle that?"

"I don't know, Susan. I guess that I wouldn't be very secure, would I?"

"I know, but you cannot get pregnant, while I'm still not too old to; and I very much do not want to. So, I just must insist on being able to control things. And that is why I need to tie you up."

"Well, if you have to, you have to, I guess." What she had given me to drink had made me feel very strange and needful of her more than ever. Plus, these and other thing she said, which I just cannot remember, made me feel flattered and strong and desirable to her. Somehow, she made me feel as if she would be very disappointed in me if I did not go along with whatever she proposed: that we probably would no longer be the friends we were becoming.

"Oh, yes, I must insist, my dear."

"Well, ok. What do you want me to do, Susan?"

"Good boy. I knew you would have the guts for it. So, why don't you just take off your shirt while I get a few things."

"Including some rope, I guess," I said with a brave smile and a strange internal shiver.

"Good guess. I'll be right back."

When she had returned in only a couple of minutes, I had stripped to my waist. I had hurried, not wanting to annoy the person who would probably very soon have complete control over me.

"Hands behind your back, Strand. Cross your wrists," she said, without preamble, and with a mischievous . . . and mysterious smile. I had never thought anything much about this thing called "bondage" up until then - not like now. I really did not recognize how skillful Susan was. She very quickly encircled my wrists both horizontally and vertically with quite tight coils of rope, adding what I now know as a cinch between my wrists, which really tightened everything. Until she added the cinch, I briefly thought that it might be a "cinch' to get out of it. Pun intended.

"Geez, this isn't like when I was tied up as a kid. Where did you learn how to do this so fast?"

"My ex. Any last words, honey?"

"What do you mean, ughumf." Some kind of cloth was pushed by her into my mouth. A few minutes later, I would notice that she was wearing only one sock. Then she used a rope pulled tightly around my head and between my teeth to hold it in place. And she was not gentle!!

"So, it worked! What worked, you might ask. Well, I'll tell you while you get tied up quite a bit more than necessary for my safety."

I wondered where she was going with this, but could say nothing other than a few unintelligible sounds.

"I've been planning this even since before we met at the job. Know why? Remember the girl you told me about from your freshman year? My daughter! She has recovered and gone on to a very nice young man. But she was very, very unhappy for a long time after you split up. And she never told me what you did together. You told me that a few minutes ago. And I am even more pissed at you now. So, my friend, it is my firm intention to get my jollies from you any way I want for as long as I want for revenge. And, if it is uncomfortable for you, so much the better."

I was stunned!! And afraid. As Susan stripped me, I thought some about Kelly, her daughter. Not quite the innocent that her mom seemed to think. I had enjoyed the brief fling with her, but ended it abruptly when I learned a couple of things about her which told me that she just was not a girl I would ever want to become serious with. And then, now naked and with a rousing erection in spite of what was being done to me and what Susan had threatened thus far, she shove me roughly into a chair and proceeded to tie my arms over the back of it and to it, also attaching my wrist to the back of it with a short rope.

"Humm, I see you are having fun, Strand. Quite a hardon you have there. Well, we will take care of that bye and bye. Probably a few times. Good thing my ex didn't find out about you and get you tied up somehow, like this. You'd have to choke down a bigger cock even than the one you are showing me."

My arms secured, Susan pried my legs apart and tied them far back and tight with a rope stretching from one ankle to the other around the back of the chair, and then to it. And more rope around my legs, just above my knees, which somehow pulled them even wider apart, and making my genitals even more exposed to the possible pleasures or dangers of the woman who how held me captive - the obviously very experienced woman, eager to take her pleasure with me and avenge her daughter in doing so. I knew that, if she so desired, she could punish me very harmfully the way she had me tied. But I somehow suspected that her intentions were more subtle. I think now that we both knew that if anything really serious happened to me, an investigation would lead to her as the perpetrator.

As I pondered my predicament, Susan led a rope from somewhere behind the chair up and around my mouth, over the gag, and pulled my head way back so that I could only look at the ceiling. The strain neither allowed me to look downward toward my genitals nor to either side.

I couldn't see her, but heard the scraping of a chair being pulled in front of me. Then I believe she sat in it close in front, handy for her purpose. "So, now, Strand, just a couple more things to tie up here." And then I jerked as I felt a thin cord being tied around my balls. "Careful boy; you could hurt yourself." I felt the tension as she tied the cord off to somewhere below the seat of the chair. Next, I felt her loop another thin cord around the head of my cock. "Now, Strand, I want you to sit here alone and think about the way you treated Kelly. Then, when I return, I want you to beg forgiveness; and then we shall decide the extent of your punishments. Bye for now." And I was alone.

Yes, I thought about Kelly. No need to describe her here; that's not the point. I recalled how I had just not called her again, nor taken her calls, and had pretty much ignored her whenever our paths might cross around campus. I thought how to handle it with her mother: I certainly dared not tell her that her daughter was almost a tramp. I would apologize and blame it on my own youthful ignorance. I would beg forgiveness. I would be weak and grovelling - not that I could actually grovel the way I was tied up. I suspected that it might be very interesting, so I would ask for appropriate "punishment." I would thank her for not telling her ex what I had done to his daughter; I certainly didn't want what a man might do to me. Yet - and this is strange - I felt my cock harden even more as I imagined what he might do to me.

And then Susan returned. First off, she inspected her bondage handiwork, touching me various places as she did so.

Then she undid the ropes which held my head, face and mouth in bondage. "Thank you," I said when I could. Next, she loosened the cord around the head of my cock and slipped it down to the base of my organ. I wondered what was in store for me. Would she damage me?

"Now, sonny boy, I want you to tell me about Kelly. And what is going to happen to you for the rest of the weekend will depend on it."

So, I began to tell Susan what a sweet daughter Kelly was how everyone liked her. I thought I had better lie to avoid harm from the woman. Then I confessed that I had treated her badly because of my own ignorance about girls and women; and I had felt bad about it during the summer after the freshman year, and had decided to try to make it up to her the next semester, but Kelly did not return.

"Yes, she transferred. Mainly because of the curriculum; but also, no thanks to you. Go on; and you had better continue to make it good. You told me earlier that you got her to give you oral sex."

I knew that I had better handle this well - or else I might be very sorry. "I'm sorry, Susan. I know it was wrong of me to do that. But she is so pretty, I couldn't help it. I don't blame you for being pissed off. I've been sorry ever since. I am almost glad you caught up with me. I know that whatever you do to me is not as bad as I deserve."

A little more groveling and then Susan said, "Very good. I suppose you are not a bad boy. So, I will not really hurt you. But you MUST be punished, including that you must do for me what you made Kelly do for you. But first, we have to fix it so that it will not be all that much fun for you. And this will take care of that." And so, Susan began to masturbate me. Her left hand cupped and teased my balls while her right worked on my cock. I was young and didn't last long before I came into a handkerchief that she held to catch me.

That was the beginning. While I was soft and weakened, Susan untied my legs, led me to her bed and then tied my legs apart to the bedposts at the foot of her bed. Then she untied my arms and spreadeagled me to the other end. And not loosely, like is sometimes portrayed in pictures which I have seen on websites since Susan introduced me to the pleasures and pains of bondage; but very tautly, like a bowstring. Then she let/made me observe as she slowly stripped herself naked, including the sock which was a mate to the one she had used in my mouth.

Susan's body was not that of a young girl. She had obviously been used in many ways by life, but was somehow even more attractive for it. She reminded me of several nurses, waitresses, teachers, and other mature woman I had admired in the past, but never dared approach. And then she fed herself to me.

She didn't let me kiss her mouth, but gave me access to the rest of her. More accurately, she pressed her body against my mouth: all of her body from her breasts to the soles of both feet. And then she sat on my face, with her sex over my mouth and her behind against my nose.

It was quite disgusting at first, but I quickly began to love what she was forcing onto me. During that final sitting on my face, I lingered and kissed and licked slowly and very deliberately. I savored her. And I believe that might have saved me from severe punishments as she was given pleasure.

After she climaxed, Susan gagged me again with the sock and length of rope, which almost tore into the corners of my mouth. I knew that she had not yet had her full measure of restitution. She blindfolded me, saying, "Very nice. You will live. Now, while I clean up, you can lie here and think about your sins."

While I had given her my head, Susan had not given me any release from the arousal that had begun to build up again after she had masturbated me. As I lie there in darkness, I thought of the captivity I was in, and the more I thought, the harder I became. I thought then that there was something wrong with me, but have since learned that a mind and body can behave in strange ways while in severe bondage and undergoing not too painful torture, both of which I would endure over and over during the remainder of the weekend.

In addition to the sexual torments, Susan also strung me up by my wrists to an overhead in her basement, bit gagged me with a large dowel and rope, and whipped me until I cried unmanfully.

Whenever we changed venues within her home, I was led by a cord leash around my testicles. Sometimes I was also blindfolded, and so had to be instantly obedient to the leading pressures of the leash.

My final punishment was to be made to masturbate myself while on my knees and my wrists were handcuffed behind my back. Yes, Susan was thoroughly prepared for keeping me in bondage. How, you may ask, did I masturbate with my hands secured behind my back? She made me get my penis between my thighs and thrust until I came - by then a very long time. And that was when she made her blackmailing video of me to ensure that I would respond in the future whenever she summoned me.

At the door, as she was allowing me to leave, a very thoroughly chastened young man, Susan said, "Strand, I believe you have paid for your misuse of Kelly. Whenever we get together again, it will strictly be for fun . . . mine at least. Here, take these handcuffs - no key - and whenever you come back, you will come through the garage, strip naked and cuff yourself with your hands behind your back".

So far, I have returned twice. And the last time, as she once again sat on my face while I was tied on the bed, she leaned forward and did to me what I had compelled her daughter to do. And, would you believe it, she did it so much better and for an unbelievable length of time, and number of times.

My advice from all of this? Get out there and get yourself captured by a cougar. You won't regret it.

If you enjoyed this story at all, please let me know at relt9633@aol.com

03.08.10