Chapter 29

Janey was calm the next morning as she came in to practice her fellatio. She had followed closely her mother's tortured emotions the night before over their link. She had not sensed any malicious intent on my part. She also knew I had forgiven her Mom and that the incident was behind us.

I was still half-asleep when her hot mouth engulfed my limp dick. Janey had simply crawled in under the covers, nude, and gone about her business. God, could it get any better?

I turned to look at my bride-to-be and found she was already awake, quietly watching me wake up. We looked at each other in silence as her daughter labored below. I watched for any signs of anger or jealousy, but there was only contentment. Even when she saw my pupils dilate and my nostrils flare as I filled that industrious tight hot mouth with my essence, there was only peace and pleasure at my release. I felt the two diamond hard points of Janey's nipples working their way up my chest. I turned to meet her mouth as she kissed me, my taste still predominant in her mouth.

"Morning. Morning, Mom." She saw Sally's wrists still tied to the headboard from the night before. She didn't seem to be alarmed or surprised. Seeing there was no rush, she kind of melted her fabulous body into mine. I was prepared for her to try to slip my cock into her slit, but she didn't try. I was surprised, and proud.

With her finger she reached over and traced the letter in medallion of Sally's collar. I think she was a little sad she didn't have hers, but she seemed resolved to let me set the pace. I know she was happy for her Mom.

I reached up and jerked the strap, freeing Sally. With a lascivious grin I ran my finger lightly over her bare pubic area. There was just the faintest hint of stubble, but that was all the excuse I needed. More than I needed. Janey was forgotten as my love and I headed for the bathroom.

At breakfast I informed Sally that I wanted her to set up a regular evening with Amud and Bala. Amud was a fascinating young man, well versed in a broad range of political and financial topics and I found I looked forward to our discussions. He had expressed that he did as well. He and I could talk while the girls learned to dance and whatever else. Bala would also benefit from the relationship, as I was sure my girls would educate her on the American way of life. They liked Bala as much as I liked Amud.

Amud and Bala visited us on Friday. Much to Janey's elation, I let her wear her collar. Sally had called Cece to help with the preparations, so things were going smoothly. Bala, Sally and Janey disappeared behind the flap of the tent and we could hear them chatting noisily.

We didn't notice when it got quiet, but suddenly we heard Bala exclaim loudly. We both became alert at that and watched warily as Bala surged out of the woman's quarters, pulling a half-naked Sally behind her.

"Look! Look!" she shrilled.

Bala dragged Sally in front of Amud and bared her fabulous tits to his view. I say 'dragged' more because I want to, rather than because Sally was resisting. She wasn't and that surprised me. I also found that her lack of resistance touched an explosive anger deep within me that I didn't know I had. I knew Bala had sort of dominated Sally before during the fittings, but I wasn't sure it still carried over. Apparently it had.

As I had been trained to do in highly charge emotional situations, I froze with a blank look on my face. My enemies, those few still living, know to fear that expression.

The whip marks I had made earlier in the week on Sally's lovely creamy white tits were healing nicely, but the marks were still clearly visible. In my jealous rage, I thought Amud's eyes would bug out of his head as he stared at those two whip-marked orbs, though in honesty, he tried hard to show a purely professional interest in them. He didn't quite succeed, but I later admitted his restraint. He was clearly uncomfortable and in an awkward situation. I saw him subtly shift his sitting position, trying to ease the pressure of his obvious erection.

Janey stood paralyzed in the doorway, forgotten for the moment. She had seen my face, and it terrified her. I could sense that over the link. She could feel my anger very clearly. What surprised me, as I later thought through all of this, was that Sally didn't sense it. It was my first indication that their 'link' was imperfect and different for the two of them. Only certain things went between them, and they couldn't sense the same things in me. At the time, however, that didn't mean shit.

What angered me most was that Sally had gone completely submissive. Again. I recognized that at once. It had been a point of contention between us the last couple of nights as we talked in bed. I would remove her collar and she would protest, ending with her softly crying in the night beside me, her hot tears dripping on my chest as we cuddled. I could take a lot, but when she cried, well, what can I say? I let her tears influence me. OK, OK. So I gave in completely. Call me a wuss. You try it next time!

I tried to explain to her that I missed the 'old' Sally. I told her what I had told Janey, that she wanted this too much and I didn't think she was ready. I knew I wasn't ready. She didn't care. She couldn't get enough collar time. She craved it after having done without for so long. She was like a kid with a sweet tooth locked in a candy store at night with no one there. She was an addict, and it changed her. It scared the shit out of me.

I knew she thought she was trying to help me by being the perfect submissive, but unfortunately, I wasn't even close to being the perfect master. It wasn't a 'fit' that would work. I needed the love of my life to be the love of my life. I was willing to make changes, drastic ones to keep her, but I would not risk losing her.

I was caught on the horns of a dilemma, with both of my choices having a high probability of losing the type of relationship with Sally that I needed. It angered me that Sally now seemed to 'go sub' with anyone to get her 'fix', even another woman, in this case, Bala, the sub and wife of my friend. I didn't know or recognize at that time that women - and men - could be either dominant or submissive. Or both or neither. Like I said, this was new to me.

Bala had been extolling the exquisiteness of the marks, going in detail about the strength and control each showed. She had Sally hold up her tits with her hands to Amud, putting them mere inches from his face. In my silent rage, I imagined his hot, fetid breath caressing those orbs as he leaned forward, drooling down his chin, soiling his expensive silken tie. In actuality, he could hardly breathe, he was so scared, and he moved away from the temptation, not toward Sally. I didn't care. I saw what I wanted to.

When Bala began touching Sally's tits, tracing the welts with the tips of her finger, making suggestive comments to Amud in their language, I thought Amud was going to come in his trousers. Sweat beaded his brow and I saw him clenching his fists and teeth, trying to maintain control. It was obvious, however, he was extremely attracted to Sally. And her tits. But I couldn't blame him for that. Sally was an exceedingly beautiful woman.

Janey finally reacted when Bala began fondling her Mom's breasts, pulling out on her turgid nipples, rolling them between her thumb and fingers. When Sally moaned in a small orgasm, Janey moved quietly from her frozen position at the door and insinuated herself between the other two women. That seemed to snap them out of whatever co-generated trance they were in. Bala suddenly realized the horrendous error she had made. In her excitement, she had gotten carried away. I knew she had a good heart and only the best intentions. Sometimes things don't cross the cultural lines that well, however.

Sally pulled her top back together, somewhat reluctantly, it seemed to me. She took her damn sweet time doing it. It took forever before that last peek-a-boo nipple finally bid us all adieu. She had denied that the humiliation Gary put her through had turned her on, but it was obvious from the hardness of those turgid points that she did not mind this mildly forced exhibition of her body. True, Amud and Bala were not strangers and she was not being humiliated, exactly.

As she was led back to the women's quarters by a frantic Janey, I saw her glance at the crotch of Amud's pants, checking to see if she had an effect on him. I don't know what it is about women that they get insecure at weird times. But to me, that glance was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Somehow I contained myself.

Bala, trying to make things better, threw herself down in front of my pillow. After several attempts to communicate, she finally said, in broken English, "You want more practice, use this worthless sperm catcher," and pointed to her own chest. She had the sense now to keep her own blouse closed.

Amud was even more embarrassed with that announcement, so much so that he seemed to have been distracted from his arousal at seeing Sally's bare chest. He explained that Bala, and he, were terribly embarrassed that they had unknowingly breached a cultural protocol. In their country, these things were accepted. In fact, Bala was complimenting me on my quick learning of the handling of the whip. My anger and displeasure, was apparent to all but Sally. His words helped, and though not abated, my anger moved from the front to the back of my mind, until it could be thoroughly and properly vented. As will happen with good friends, the evening continued and the events were ignored, if not forgotten.

We bid them good-bye, with both of them still acutely chagrined at what had happened. Sally and I both reassured them that we wanted to see them next week, and not to worry about it. We watched their limo drive off. We stood there in silence, both dreading the return to our lives, but for different reasons. Janey had filled Sally in on my reaction, and, when attuned to it, Sally was able to pick it up on her link as well.

The storm clouds erupted as soon as the door closed. Lightning flashed and the thunder rolled. I was in a rage. I bellowed and yelled. I thrashed and banged around. This is all very difficult to do when you don't move a muscle or make a sound.

I don't recall ever having been so angry in my entire life. Not when a South American Colonel wanted me to remain against my will in his establishment. Not when I had seen the photos of Gary touching an 11 year-old Janey. Not even at Steven, the boy who attacked Janey. Never. I shook. I literally shook with the internal tension.

My fury was palpable and must have been clear over the link, as Sally and Janey followed me to the cellar without a word, without protest. I stripped both of them without preamble, Janey, too. I wasn't thinking clearly. I knew it, but at the moment, I didn't care. I was angry, mad, furious, and I wanted satisfaction. I wanted to hit something, hard. I wanted someone else to feel the pain I was feeling.

I tied both of them up, hanging them from the chains attached to the joists. I didn't even protect the tender skin around their wrists as I hoisted them off the ground, their feet several inches from the cold concrete. They dangled there, swaying slightly, delicious targets for my anger.

I was in a foul mood and I was in dangerous territory. I knew if I started on Sally, I would regret it. Janey, innocent Janey, had been a non-participant in the events of the evening that had brought us to the cellar. I had no cause to hurt her, and even in my rage I knew I couldn't bear to raise my hand against her.

I went to the wall and selected the thong Bala had given me. She had used it on Janey before. It was soft and supple, almost like a feather when it slapped against my palm. It would take a lot to hurt her with this, and that was not my intent. I walked over to where she was hanging, waiting quietly for me. The tensions were ripping through her tender teen body, leaving her panting in the cool cellar air. Just before I started to vent my anger on her, I remembered the gag Bala had used. I lifted it to her. She shook her head, no.

I raised my hand to strike her. Her quiet acceptance of what I was about to do, even with the lightest possible of implements, pierced my rage like a rapier. I stood there for an eternity, my arm upraised, then turned and left the dungeon.

I went jogging, running. I left them hanging while I beat up my own body. Although I keep in shape, jogging has never been one of my preferred exercises. I find it masochistic. I think it's great if you like it, no offence intended, but my body strongly objects, both during and after, when I jog.

I don't recall how far I ran. It was late when I returned to the cellar to check on my girls. The pounding of the pavement had vented the most of my anger and I felt more in control. Maybe there was something to this running stuff, after all.

I let Janey down and carried her up to her bed. She had been hanging for hours, senselessly. Though she had been brave and accepting, she must have been terrified. Tenderly I wiped her fevered, sweaty brow with a cool towel, cooing to her, cuddling her to my sweaty chest. She woke up briefly and cocked her head, as if trying to feel something. She smiled wanly up at me, sensing that I was back in control of myself. She was asleep before I left her.

I reached around to loosen her collar and she cried out in her sleep. Even in the face of my anger, she wanted to keep her collar. I understood she was not ready to let go of this yet.

I tried to calm myself, convince myself that my anger was gone. It wasn't, but I had it under control. The rage I had felt had dissipated. I slipped back down to the cellar. Looking at my love's beauty soothed me as cool water.

Sally tried to speak. I silenced her with the doped gag Amud had given us. I hoped that whatever that sauce did would be enough to get her though the night. Her tears soaked into the leather of the band as I tightened it around her head, pulling the gag in as far as it could go.

Blindly, without forethought, I went to the wall with the whips. I picked up the one I thought would hurt the most, yet not kill her. It was a vicious horsewhip, not designed for human flesh at all. The horrible lash could rip skin from the bone if used carelessly. Or in anger.

I started in on Sally with no warm-up. I was not gentle. This was not for her pleasure. Or mine. She could not respond. I did not want her to. I could hear her muffled cries behind the gag, but I did not care. I was walking a dark path, jealousy and rage the only guideposts I could see in the darkness. Dangerous guideposts in unfamiliar territory.

I yelled, I cursed, I cried. I told her of the heartache I had felt when she submitted, however innocently, to another hand. I told her how angry I had been with her actions, her non-selective submissiveness. I told her how close I had come to striking Janey in anger, and why I could not. I told her I never, ever wanted to strike either of them in anger. I told her she was the light of my life, my reason for being. I told Sally over and over that I loved her, would always love her, regardless. I ranted and raved, cried and wept until I could not, then I simply sobbed, holding her hanging body in my arms, until I could no longer find any hint of anger within me.

Stepping back from her, I dropped the whip on the ground, unused, having never lifted it against her. I stepped up to her and thrust my iron hard prick into her depths. She was not well lubricated, but not bone dry, either. Yelling is not a particularly good form of foreplay, regardless of its popularity. My entry filled her, supported her and helped ease the stress on her arms.

I had the sense to wait for her to secrete enough fluids so that I wouldn't rip her apart when I moved. She was whimpering softly behind her gag. I moved my face next to hers as I felt her finally begin to lubricate.

"Sally!" She opened her eyes.

I thrust in sharply. "I..."

I thrust again. "...am..."

Again. "...your..." This word was said with particular emphasis.

Once more. "...Master!"

Her eyes widened a she heard what I was saying, and understood why I was displeased with her. She had submitted to another, a mistress. She had been exposed, vulnerable to another man. It was a habit, she was a submissive. I was going to break her of that, if at all possible. She was mine.

I repeated my emphatic message to her, one word per stroke. And again. And again. Over and over I drove that message into her. Her eyes never left mine, their sadness at her failure to please me overwhelming. In the end I shot my seed into her and held her tight. After a time, my softening prick pulled free and I heard the plop of dripping cum spattering on the cool cellar floor. I'm not sure, but I don't think she climaxed at all that night, even with the doped gag.

I left her hanging there all night, gagged, suffering, unfulfilled. It was probably the only time in her life she had had sex with a lover and didn't climax. Then again, I hadn't entered her as a lover, but as a Master. I lay down on one of the cots along the wall, close to her, but out of her sight. I didn't sleep.

In the morning I let her down. Slowly, carefully I helped her up to our bathroom and prepared a steaming whirlpool. She refused to let me put her in until she had prostrated herself at my feet. Her hand slipped up to feel her neck, to see if my collar was still there. She cried out in relief when she felt it was still there.

"Master. You are my Master." She repeated that over and over, sometimes sobbing, sometimes almost singing it, as if to herself. She hugged herself to my feet.

Finally, I reached down and touched her collar. I slipped my finger in between it and her neck. The extra tension caused it to choke her, cutting off her air and the blood flow. I lifted her to her feet, her face to mine. She did not struggle.

"You are mine. Only mine."

She nodded, keeping her eyes to the floor.

"Sally? My Love?"

She looked up when I said her name. I think my voice quivered. I know my hand was shaking. I drowned in those beautiful eyes. Her gaze did not hold the terror for me I had expected. To be honest, I wasn't sure what I had expected to see in those sparkling green eyes of hers. Hate? To be sure. Terror? Certainly. Or may just a dull stare, an indication that the life had been beaten out of her, her spirit broken.

I didn't expect to see what I saw. Love. Respect. Hope. Sure, a little fear and pain, but nothing what I had expected. If I hadn't believed in the link thing before, I did now. Only by her knowing my heart last night could she have understood. I would probably never know for sure, but then, she was full of surprises. It was one of the main reasons I loved her so deeply. It also made what I was going to say trite. She already knew it before I voiced it.

I said it anyway. "You are forgiven. This incident is forgotten." That being understood, I unlocked her collar and took it off her neck. Her punishment and my anger were behind us.

I helped her into the whirlpool. The hot, swirling waters began the slow healing process that would last a long time, long after the visible marks on her wrists had faded.

Sally stayed in bed for two days. The experience had exhausted her, more than I realized. I pampered her, tending to her heartaches and pains. Janey tried once to help but Sally and I both refused her help. This was my responsibility. I didn't keep them apart, as she wasn't sick, so they chatted and talked, Janey sitting on the end of the bed. Sally never mentioned what they talked about, but I don't think it was about what happened that night.

Sally and I talked, too. I think she finally understood how scared I was of what she was becoming. She admitted she didn't want to be the perfect slave, it was just, well, so alluring. Several things had gone on in her life lately that made the escape into that life comforting to her. The attack on Janey was not the first thing that had turned her life upside down. The first thing that had happened was me. Her feelings for me were so strong they frightened her. She had never felt like this before. As frightened as I was of losing her, she was petrified I would go away and leave her life empty of all meaning. It was a new feeling for her, even at her age.

My introduction of bondage into the relationship during the bet had thrown her for another loop. I hadn't known what I was doing, really, but didn't mention that. I had been desperate. Then she had lost the bet. LOST! Not that she minded, given that she now had my ring on her finger, or soon would, but it planted a seed of doubt if she would be able to control me later on. It had really rattled her, even though, as the strength of my link grew, she realized how focused and controlled I could be.

So it went. We talked, we cried, we made love. We fucked savagely, the passions still raging in both of us now. Our emotions were raw and open. In the end, if you could call it that, we came to an understanding. I was the Master. Sally would be, at all times, my love. Only when the collar was on would I tolerate submissive behavior in her, however. Without the collar, she was commanded to act normal, my 'old' Sally. As twisted as that sounds, it worked for us. She could be submissive to my wishes at all times, even when not acting like it.

I didn't even pretend to understand.

Chapter 30

Time marched on. The weekly visits from Amud and Bala resumed without further incident. Janey wore her collar occasionally, even skipping some weekends she was entitled to wear it. Her social life was picking back up and she was just too busy to be tied up all weekend, pun intended.

Sally started getting back to normal, too. Thank God! Although I don't think Janey appreciated it. Getting back to normal meant that she now had time to focus on her daughter's life, not just her own submissiveness. I heard the two of them more and more, chatting, laughing, chiding and chaffing. Normal parent-teenager stuff.

At one point Sally even enlisted my help. After her one last request for my help, she had tended to take things having to do with Janey on herself. Especially lately. She seemed determined to show me things were back to normal. I just grinned and let her for the most part, mainly because teenagers were aliens as far as I was concerned, and the females of that species were as perplexing as human females. It was good for Sally, too, to know she could do it herself.

This time, however, Sally was beyond herself. Janey had been coming home late from school. Nothing unusual so far, as she often had activities after school. Her cheerleading coach had called and asked where Janey was, as she had taken a leave from the squad for the entire basketball season. Nothing surprising there, given what had happened. Then there was her refusal to tell Sally what was going on, why she was late. OK, that was unusual. As were the tears and rips, crudely mended, in some of her gym clothing. She was also spending a lot of time in the whirlpool after school. Alone.

Nothing Sally had done would get Janey to talk. Threats, promises, bribes to her friends, talks with the teachers, nothing. It didn't sound too serious to me, but, to keep Sally happy, I decided to look into it. Sally made me promise to be discrete. What? Me? Heavy-handed?

It took a couple of days, but I found out what Janey was doing after school. I couldn't believe it, but she was practicing with the boy's wrestling team. For a while I thought she was just hanging around trying to get a cute boy's attention - as if she needed to do that! But she went through all the drills with the team, and even scrimmaged with the others in her weight class. She lost, but she didn't do badly. Like her mother, she was a scrapper.

OK. I knew what. But why? No amount of digging revealed that to me. I kept at it for several weeks, during which time I didn't say a word to either of them. Janey had gone to practice everyday and, as I watched her covertly, got better. Much better, to the point she finally won a spot on the roster.

The day the roster was posted, I was waiting for Janey outside the girl's locker room door. Her expression was priceless, much like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but not knowing how she was caught out.

"Uh, Hi, Dad. Just driving by?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope."

"Oh. Is everything OK at home? Did Mom send you to pick me up?" She tried to sound worried, but didn't succeed.

"Nope."

"Oh." She was silent for while. "You know?"

"Yep."

"Does Mom know?" I could tell she dreaded that for some reason.

"Nope,..."

Her head whipped up to look at me at that. Hope flooded the car like a gully washer.

"...not yet."

"Oh, please Dad," she pleaded, "don't tell her. Please!"

"Tell me something, kiddo." I turned to look at her. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why wrestling? Is it a guy? Don't we give you enough affection at home? Why?"

Janey was so cute when she blushed and giggled. Damn, she was beautiful! Who was I kidding? "Oh, Daaaad."

I felt like I finally belonged to that great and honorable club of patriarchs. I had just exasperated my teenager and been addressed in the proper fashion.

"Well?"

She looked at me, now thoroughly exasperated. I wanted an answer from her and wasn't going to take a cutesy blush as a diversion. It almost worked, though.

"It's hard to explain."

"Try me."

"It started as a dare."

Oh, shit. I shuddered when I remembered some of the things I had heard about - and participated in- that started out with a dare. Old Mrs. Johnson would never be the same after waking up with 25 naked and very obviously horny teenaged boys in her bedroom. Well, she was old to us. 25 is a lot older than 16...

"I see. Who dared you?"

"Well, that's where it's confusing. I guess I sort of did myself. You see, there was this cute guy..."

I knew it!

"...and he was, well, there was an argument about how tough wrestling was and that's how come there weren't any girls on the team. I sort of got volunteered to make the team, if I could."

"Oh, a challenge, not a dare." I felt slightly better, but not much. I remembered some challenges I had participated in, too, mostly having to do with bare chests at sub-zero temperature football games in college.

"Yeah, I talked it over with the men's coach and he said OK, as long as I had triple protection over my, you know," she indicated her crotch, " and a double strength athletic bra. I talked to the women's gym teacher - she thought I was crazy - and she helped me get all that stuff.

"You know, wrestling's tough!" she ended.

"But you made the roster for the next match! Aren't you excited?"

"Geez, Dad. What do you do? Know everything?"

"Only about the people I care about," I kidded. "Seriously, your Mom was concerned and asked me to look into it. I did."

"It was nice to make the roster. I earned it, too. But I'm not too thrilled about my first match. I have to wrestle the defending State Champ. Probably twice."

"Twice?"

"It's a double-elimination with four schools. You have to lose twice to be out. I'm the only other one entered in the weight class, so the rules say we have to wrestle twice."

Something in her voice didn't sound right. "What's the problem?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Just I heard when he found out he might have to wrestle a girl, he made some pretty rude comments about what he would do to me." She started to cry, little tears trickling down her face.

"You want me to stop your match?"

She shook her head. "No. I know it must be strange for him, you know? But why can't he just fight me like a guy. I mean, I know I'm not a guy, but, dang it, Dad, why are some guys such big assholes?"

Now, how often do you get 'dang it' and 'asshole' from your little girl? In the same sentence? She was serious, too! It was, however, an eternal question. I didn't know the answer, and knew if I said anything, she would know I didn't know. I said nothing.

We drove home in silence, her only request was that I not let Sally know. I told her I couldn't promise to do that. I felt it was her Mom's right to know about this. But I told her I wouldn't spoil her match.

Friday night came. Janey didn't come home, as it was an away match at one of the other schools. I handed Sally a big shopping bag and told her we were going out for the evening. She started to open the bag, but I stopped her. What was in the bag was for later.

It was unusual for us to go out, so she was excited. I think she was curious when I headed for a small town about 25 miles away and not our usual bistro. I kept up a banal chatter for the hour drive, not letting on what was up.

The fare at the local diner was a disappointment, but the company was excellent. I think Sally felt the same way, too, but now she was more curious than ever. She would drop hints, finally asking point blank. I ignored both the hints and the direct hints. As 7:30 approached I handed her the bag and told her she'd better get ready.

Her face was a study in perplexion as she pulled out a big floppy hat, an over-sized pair of sunglasses and a bulky shapeless overcoat. I had her put them all on - she was surprised she got to keep her other clothes on, I think - and we headed back to the car. She was even more puzzled when we pulled into the crowded high school parking lot. I don't know if she noticed the big yellow bus from Janey's high school in the lot, but I parked right next to it.

The gym was a cacophony of noise as we entered, the early matches already underway. Behind her sunglasses I could see her questioning eyes darting around trying to discover what we were doing at a high school wrestling match. I could tell to the millisecond when she spotted Janey. I still have the bruises on my arm to prove it.

"You knew what she was doing all along?"

"Kind of."

"Kind of? What the Hell does that mean?"

"Well, I knew what she was doing. Just not why."

"Oh."

I was amazed to get away with that simple of an answer. Sally knew my inquisitive nature. She knew of my protective instincts and the honor code I lived by. If Janey had asked me not to tell, I wouldn't, if I could. I had known, that's all that mattered. If Janey had been in trouble, I would have intervened. Sally had asked for my help, after all.

"Well, you could at least have told me...."

I was going to hear about this for a long time, I could tell.

They called Janey's match. It was painful to watch. The kid she fought really was good, but, as she had said, he was an asshole. He toyed with her. He never quite did anything inappropriate, but I could tell towards the end that the referees were beginning to watch where he put his hands on her body. He pinned her with 7 seconds remaining in the last period. Like a trouper, Janey shook his hand - after his coach made the asshole come back out onto the mat - then she made her way back to her school's bench.

Her team did her proud. There were consoling 'tough match' comments and 'he's a jerk' a couple of times. They didn't treat her any differently than they would another guy. She held her head up proudly. She had fought hard, the best she could and she hadn't quit, she had just been terribly out-classed by a better athlete. I would see her shoulders start to slump forward in despair, then pull back in fierce determination. She wasn't going to quit now, either.

I looked over at Sally in her anonymous get up. Covered up the way she was, Janey would never have to know she had been here if we didn't tell her. She looked at me. We nodded at the same time at the same thought. It was time to intervene. A parent's prerogative. I was giddy with excitement. My first parental intervention! OK, not exactly giddy...

First thing I did was wander over to her coach. I got his attention and introduced myself.

"Can you get her to forfeit the second match, coach?"

He looked at me as if I was loony. "Janey? Quit? Are we talking about the same kid here?"

I grinned back at him, "Just checking. Sometimes teachers have more influence than adults at home."

"I could refuse to let her fight."

Grinning like an idiot, I shook my head. "Nah, I have a better plan. This is what I want you to do...." He nodded his head as he listened and even made a couple of suggestions of his own when he saw where it was headed.

Phase one completed, I initiated phase two. I recruited another father of one of the kids on Janey's team and took him with me. The coach had introduced us and told him a little of the plan. I finished briefing him as we made our way over to a spot behind the kid she had just fought. We just stood there for a while until the Emergency Medical Response Team showed up. Someone had placed an anonymous call to their office.

"Thank God, they finally got here," I said loudly, pointing them out. "I was really concerned about that poor kid who had to fight that crazy girl. You remember what happened the last time someone got her mad, don't you?"

The other father chimed in, right on queue, "You mean that poor bastard who lost his nuts when she kicked him in the groin. I heard the surgeon said they looked like applesauce."

"Yeah, that one. Well, at least the EMRT ambulance is outside now. If there's another incidence, maybe this kid won't lose both balls."

The other father piped up again, "What do you mean 'if'? God, look at that girl kick! I tell you, she's crazy when she's mad!"

Just then Janey was going through the unusual warm up routine the coach had told her to do. She would stutter step in a crouch like a linebacker, turning around in a complete circle. When facing her opponent across the gym, she would come out with a hoarse, fierce sounding scream. Then, pointing her finger at the kid, she kicked her leg as hard and high as she could. She did this routine four or five times. On the last couple of kicks, the upward force of her leg flipped her over so that she landed on her stomach, a three quarter backward somersault.

To say she had the attention of everyone in the audience, including this poor kid, was to state the obvious. Her last kick was spectacular. She did a complete back flip, landing on her feet and ended up facing the kid. Then with both index fingers pointed at him, she screamed in mock rage. As a psych-out move, it was very convincing, but still, I was counting on the kid not being too bright.

I made my way back to Sally as they called Janey's second match. As I sat down, she just shook her head, shaking in laughter as Janey charged up to the mat. She didn't look like a loser this time. The first round started with them standing. The kid was still cocky, but a little jumpy. He took Janey down easily enough right away, but amazingly she escaped on her own. She was pumped, too.

Just as she got free from him, she started that stutter step routine she had been doing in the warm ups, only this time, instead of turning in a circle, she circled him. In his attempt to keep her in front of him, he turned with her. At one point he stumbled. It was the opening she was looking for. At that moment when he was off balance, she pointed at him, screamed a blood-curdling war cry and started to bring her foot up off the ground in a straight-legged kick.

The poor kid never knew what hit him, which was nothing. He was so psyched out, he instinctively slammed both of his hands over his family jewels and screamed along with her. Janey changed the upward movement of her kick and took him down with a basic leg sweep. She had him pinned before he realized he was still intact and unharmed. The referee and the audience were still laughing when Janey leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Apparently, there is some arcane rule about wrestlers kissing during a wrestling meet, so even though she had won the second match, Janey was disqualified from a third match. She didn't care.

It was the only match the kid lost all season, and everywhere he went later on that year, his opponents would grab their balls and fall on the ground screaming during their warm ups. I hope he learned something from it all. He did show some potential as a human being, because after the match he came over and apologized to all of us, especially Janey, for his behavior during their first fight. I think he even asked her out, which she graciously turned down. The lucky bastard did get another kiss out of it, though.

For us, it was the end of Janey's wrestling career, so don't look for her on the WWF. It did change a couple of things around the house, however. Watching Janey practice with those guys made me realize she wasn't the fragile little blossom I sometimes let myself believe. I mean, I know girls and women are as tough as men, maybe not always as strong, but they certainly are as tough physically. Its just, well, I tend to try to protect them from the hard things in life. Call it macho if you will, but it seems to be an instinctual type thing that's easy to fall into. That they - women - often encourage that behavior doesn't help, either.

Anyway, I decided to take advantage of Janey's athletic bent and started initiating more activities that involved bodily contact, like one-on-one basketball, rough-housing on rainy days, tag football with some other fathers and daughters. Things like that. Non-sexual solid body contact sports. We even got Sally involved, and it became a regular family outing for us.

The other thing that changed was that the boys at her school, having seen her attitude at the wrestling match about the attack on her, suddenly decided she wouldn't castrate them if they dated her. Our house became Hormone Central in a short time, as her suitors hung out. With all that energy sitting around wasting, I started organizing 2-on-2 and 3-on-3 basketball games. Soon, our house was the center of the pick-up games, with Janey always playing. Other girls, jealous at first, started coming over. When they saw they could get a good feel of the guy's bodies for the price of playing, they joined in. I've noticed it's hard to be jealous and sweaty at the same time. Granted, there was a lot more close man-to-man, so to speak, defensing going on than necessary during the games, but occasionally the ball would be tossed in the general direction of the hoop. I don't recall the kids ever keeping score, however...

The kids even asked Sally and me to join in sometimes to make even teams. Sally played hard and kind of dirty, copping feels of the young guys every chance she got. When the guys found that they could grab back without her protesting, she became a regular. I particularly liked it when I got to guard her. I was sore for days from her elbows in my ribs and elsewhere, but, God!, the sex that night would be great.

That was the way things were going. Janey was well on her way to recovery. I hoped I had played a small part in that, if somewhat unorthodox. Sally seemed happy and active. We kept some time reserved for just us. She needed the submissive time, now that it was possible, and I came to treasure those days, almost as much as when she was 'normal.' I began to see 'my' Sally in both sides of her, one merging with the other. It came to be much less of a shock to me to see her in her submissive role. As I became more comfortable with that, those times together with her being submissive became more frequent. Still, not as often as she liked, but I think she appreciated them more when she had to wait.

Janey would join us most times, usually for a portion of the evening. However, as there was always a strong sexual content to these times, she would only be able to participate to a certain point. Sometimes things would get too intense for her, and she would ask to be released from her collar, but later on I would have to be the one to tell her to go. She was not voyeuristic, mind you, she was an active participant in the activities and I wasn't ready to have sexual intercourse with her just yet.

She complained it was unfair to get her all hot and bothered and then turn her out. I retorted that life was unfair, so shove it or something else up there. Not my best retort, but given the fact that I had her Mom's permission to fuck her, and that I wanted to, and that she wanted me to, I wasn't thinking all that clearly. I just needed her out of the reach of my throbbing cock before I started thinking with the wrong head. We both knew it could still happen that we would have sex. I just wanted to wait for exactly the right time, and I didn't want her first time to be when she was submissive. Or maybe I was just still afraid I would lose Sally if I actually did it with Janey. I usually ended up restraining her in her bed with some of the Rosen's toys to keep her quiet, if not happy.