The Spa

by: Ponce | Complete Story | Last updated Jun 11, 2005

A man spends time at a special spa.

Chapter 1
Complete Story

Chapter Description: A man spends time at a special spa.


For the fourth or fifth time in an hour I test the bars. The prison is small, cluttered, and reeks -- reeks of oil and powder. I’m covered in it. So I reek, too. I’m filthy and I’m hungry. But what can I do, I’m trapped ... and there’s no escape and no parole.


It wasn’t always this way. Not so long ago I was a successful private practice lawyer living the good life in Philadelphia. My story starts on a Tuesday morning last August when I got the call.

"Mr. Gottlieb?"

"Yes," I answered. "You don’t know me but your name was given to our company by a mutual acquaintance who thought you could benefit from our service."

"And what exactly is your service," I asked.

"Let’s just say I represent a specialized spa for singles now. Are you interested?"

"I don’t know," I answered. "What kind of spa?"

"My name is Ariel Santianna. And my offer is not what you may be thinking, Mr. Gottlieb. We are a very select service and recruit potential member strictly through word-of-mouth through satisfied customers. That s how we got your name."

What can I say -- I’m not hurting for dates, but I’m always on the lookout. And if this way on the up and up, what the hey. After all, I’m 36, single, healthy, moderately athletic, with above average looks. I’m definitely hetero, and I like variety in my women. Maybe that s why I’ll never settled down, or even considered it. I tried it once, but after three years of hell, I’m glad to be footloose and fancy free.

I don’t have many friends. And don’t want them. I have acquaintances and dates. That’s what I call them because that’s all I’m after.

Now before you go and write me off as a male jerk, let me say that there’s not one woman I’ve ever dated with one exception (I’ll discuss HER later) that wasn’t dealt openly and honestly by me. I made it a point of personal honor not to deceive women I’ve dated or slept with. I’m in it for brief companionship and nothing more. My marriage cured me of wanting any more than that.

Alice Ransam -- my ex -- and I met in my first year at Appacacola State University Law School in Georgia. We lived together throughout my second year and married during my third year. She was a Southern girl from Clairbourne, Tennessee. I was almost eight years older than Alice, she graduated during mid-term my second year with a "Mrs." Degree awarded by yours truly.

She came from an old and extremely wealthy Tennessee family. Lots of money and an attitude, that’s the Ransam clan. Her daddy didn’t dress in white linen suits or anything, but he sure came close. To say the family was strong-willed, stubborn, opinionated, controlling, and manipulating is just putting it too mildly. There was a saying in Clairbourne that old man Ransam went to church every Sunday morning to point out what God had gotten wrong that week.

Now I knew that Alice could be a handful, but you know what they say -- marry in haste, repent in leisure. And within a year of graduating, repent was about all I did. I’ve often thought over the years that saying "I do" at the wedding was the only decision I made during our marriage that Alice agreed with.

The ink wasn’t dry on my degree before Alice starting mapping out every detail of my life and career. Alice decided where we lived. Alice decided the type of law I practiced. Alice decided what clients and cases I would take. Yes, seriously, she reviewed my briefs and called people without my knowledge, telling them whether I would or wouldn’t represent them.

It rankled, sure, but I was in love. And Alice had a way of wrapping me around her finger with a "But Jack, you’re my baby. And Momma’s gonna look after her baby."

I don’t care how much I loved her, after less than three years, I’d had it. I guess what finally provided the proverbial straw, was the day I came home and found she had gone through all my personal possessions and clothing and gave away or threw out anything she didn’t like. SHE was going to dress me? NO FRIGGIN WAY.

There wasn’t much to pack, but what I had, I did. I went into the den of our house (her house, I wasn’t part of the decision).

"Alice, I’m leaving."

"What do you mean?," she asked. "Where are you going?"

"I’m leaving you, I’m sick of the way you manipulate me and try to control every aspect of my life. I’m a grown man, for Chrissakes, and you try to treat me like a child. I’m a lawyer, a good one, and I’m going to be a better one, but the only way I know to do that is to get away from you."

I have to say, she took it well. She didn’t shout, scream, yell, or anything. I’ll give her this, Alice has control. You had to look to her eyes to see how angry she was, all her anger was in her eyes. And, boy, was she angry.

"Listen little man," she said. "Did it ever occur to you that the reason I did what I did was that you’re incapable of acting like an adult. You NEED me. If I didn’t look after you, you’d be like a lost child."

"So you want to be on your own? Fine. Get the hell out. Let’s just see how you make it without Momma to look after you."

With that, as far as she was concerned, I was dismissed.


Well, unfortunately for Alice, I did make it and I did quite well. She gave me no trouble before, during, or after the divorce. As far as I could tell, she had written me out of her life. And if Alice could turn the page and get on with it, so could I.

So here I was living the good life in Philly, that is until the call came. I’d been divorced a little more than 10 years. The caller invited me to meet her at Bookbinder’s Restaurant down by the river. She offered to bring all the information and references I might require.

So even if I wasn’t interested in the club, I definitely was interest in Ms. Santianna, who sounded "muy bueno" over the phone.

We agreed on a Thursday lunch date, and she was waiting for me when I arrived.

Boy, what a knockout! Twentyish, dark hair, flawless white skin, deep black eyes, coupled with an almost instinctive sense of presence and command that absolutely radiated from her. After exchanging general pleasantries and lunch, we got down to business. She was she told me of old Castillian stock, but had lived in this country a long time. Her family lands had been converted to a athletic spa retreat. It was expensive and select. The list of members included a Getty, a Kennedy, two Rothschilds, numerous professional athletes, movie stars galore, politicians, and a host of other people whose names I didn’t recognize. It looked like Club Med, but it was located in Florida.

Ariel asked if I was interested. Was I interested? Hell, yes, I was! There was only one catch, and a catch it was. This was a select club, she said. "Our members are ’private members’. They get enough of the’spotlight’ at other places. So if you decide to accept our invitation, it must be with the understanding that you cannot invite guests, nor may you discuss any aspect of the club with friends, clients, family or acquaintances, including our clients, our services, our facilities, and most specifically, our location with non-members."

"So, how do I get there?" I asked.

After giving me some additional details, she suggested that I try coming for a weekend or two before joining, then if I liked it, I could accept full membership and, perhaps, take a couple of weeks with them over the winter.

What can I say? My first weekend there was fabulous. I swam in the abundant natural springs which dotted the club, played a couple rounds of golf, danced ever night, and early Sunday morning I got extremely lucky with a certain young lady currently starring in the top money making film of the year.

I didn’t wait to try again, but signed up for membership on the spot. It wasn’t cheap, but was it ever worth it. Over the next four months I managed to spend at least one, and sometimes two weekends a month at the "Spa," which is how we members referred to the club among ourselves and outsiders.

At the spa, you just went by your first name, to everyone, all the time. I developed a great "all over" tan by early January, anticipating my month-long vacation in February. I lost some weight, gained some muscle, and looked and felt better than I had in years.

By January 31, I had I all my arrangements made for my cases, and was ready to boogie on out. Everyone at the office assumed I had been staying in the Caribbean, and I had done nothing to dispel that notion. In fact, one of the security measures imposed by the spa was to have members book flights to Bermuda, the Bahamas, or any other foreign destination before purchasing a ticket back to the states. Since you paid in cash, there was no tracing your flight.

So bright and early February sixth, I found myself lying naked on the beach in the early sun while my new "friend" Kathy, rubbed Ban deSoleil across my back. Kathy and I had struck up a friendship almost as soon as I arrived. I usually don’t move that fast, but with Kathy, it was different. It was like she already knew me. In some ways (God forbid) she reminded me of Alice. Not the Alice I was married to, but the one I first met -- fun and spunky. She had two funny quirks, that looking back on it, now seem hard to explain. She was an eager beaver love maker, but every once in awhile she insisted that we do it in complete darkness, nor would she speak during our lovemaking.

Within minutes of finishing, she would pad into the bathroom, emerge moments later and go on as if nothing had happened.


On Friday afternoon, during my second week, I received a minor injury when the mate of a sailboat I was on swung the boom unexpectedly, smacking me right across the shoulder blades, knocking me both overboard and out. When I came to, I was back on deck, being offered 10,000 apologies. Male pride took over, and I hobbled back to my cottage after docking sorer but wiser in all ways nautical.

Imagine my surprise when the phone rang a few hours later and who was on the line but Ariel. I hadn’t seen her since recruiting me back in Philadelphia. She invited me to a private party at the family compound that evening, if I was up to it. I accepted graciously . I was flattered and surprised. I had heard a famous nationally known politician say that he d never been to the family compound once during his 10 years as a member.

So that evening, about eight, I showed up at the gate to the compound and was escorted in. Instead of a party I found a table set for two --and at one of the places sat Ariel.

"So Jack, how are you enjoying the spa?"

"Wonderful, meeting you was the best decision I’ve made in 10 years."

"Sorry about your accident. I thought a little personal attention might make your back a little less sore."

After dining, we adjourned to a terrace overlooking a landscaped garden that bordered a natural spring. As we were talking in pleasant generalities, when quite unexpectedly Ariel reached over and kissed me. Needless to say I responded in kind.

The next thing I knew I had undressed her and she had done likewise to me. Her full breasts pressed fully and warmly against my chest. I made my move to lift her into my arms, when my accident from the afternoon came back to haunt me with a vengeance.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as I was forced to set the beautiful and very naked Ariel down.

"Oh, Jack, your back! I’m so sorry."

"I’m okay . . . I’m okay . . . I’m okay," I repeated like a mantra as little blue and red dot of pain danced across my eyes.

Motioning me, and making no effort to robe, Ariel led me back into the house and down into a lower level. Here there was a sort of personal spa, although it didn’t look like a family one.

"This is the facility we use only for our special guests," she said. "My family has been operating here for many years, and over that time we have learned many way of reinvigorating even the most jaded and tired of individuals. I’ve seen old men jumping around like little lambs after our family treatment."

So saying, she went over to an electric panel and threw several switches. A hot tub in the middle of the room burst into activity , quickly throwing up a mass of steaming, frothing bubbles. But first she gave me a bucket of water and sent me into a steam room. Hot glowing rocks sat glowing red in a brazier.

"Be generous with the steam, Jack, use lots of water. I want you nice and loose for step two."

She also gave me a large bottle of mineral water to drink while I was in there. After about 40 minutes. Ariel brought me out and motioned to a small six by nine foot pool.

"In you go," she said, giving me a firm, but not ungentle nudge. God! That water was cold after the steam!

After 10 minutes in the pool, she had me get up on a massage table and slowly and expertly began kneading and massaging the tight and sore muscles of my back. It had to be working, because I was already starting to feel a lot better. All the time she worked on me, she remained a curious mix of detached professional masseuse and lover. After all, she was still very much naked and every so often she would sneak in a quick kiss or erotic caress.

She had me keep drinking the mineral water and before I realized it, I had consumed nearly a quart. By the time she had been working on me close to 2 hours, I felt the distinct need to recycle. Heading to the john I took a long and satisfying whizz. While washing, I noticed that I was really looking good -- the two weeks at the spa had really left me looking and feeling 10 years younger, despite my sore back.

When I came back out, Ariel directed me to the hot tub. After settling in, she gave me another bottle of water, cautioning me to drink it, saying something about keeping my electrolytes up.

"Jack, I’m going to leave you in the pool for a little while to get the last knots out of your shoulder."

The tub had a frame like a chaise lounge built into it with a padded head rest. She turned the lights off except for some indirect lighting which reduced both of us to mere black shadows. Ariel handed me a set of sleeper shades to put over my eyes and a set of ear phones, which began piping in that insipid new age music. It must have worked because between the accident, the massage, the steam room and the tub, I felt myself growing sleepy. Ariel continued to rub my shoulders and every minute or so, made me drink water, until, at last, the second bottle was empty. Slowly and inevitably, I drifted into deep sleep. The bubbling, foaming water washed over my body and my dreams were nothing but erotic -- keeping my penis at maximum attention even in my dream state..

Sometime around midnight, Ariel awoke me.

"Get up sleepyhead, is this how you treat your girlfriends?"

"No," I’mumbled, acutely aware and of my raging hard-on. Thank God, she’d left the lights off. She took a towel and began drying me. Refusing my efforts to help, she said she wanted to do it. As she wiped lower and lower, she came upon my hardened dick and, dropping the towel, took it into her mouth.

Up and down, up and down she sucked on my tool as I felt an increasing pent up tension in my balls as they prepared to fire their load. I moaned and squeaked, my voice sounding a bit high and hoarse, but in a minute I erupted and all thoughts except Ariel were gone.

"How’s that back now big boy," she teased, as she pulled me onto the massage table. She spread her legs and I positioned myself to penetrate her. With a thrust I was in, but somehow, it didn’t feel right. I mean, I’m no horse, but it didn’t seem to fill her pussy. But, putting it off to the stresses of the day I made the most of my time with Ariel until once again, with a moan I sprayed my seed into her.

I laid on top of her and rested. My head against her breast. I started to apologize if my beard was rough on her skin, She rubbed my cheek and said "Smooth as a baby’s bottom" and giggled.


After about ten minutes we both got up. She told me to hop in the pool and she’d join me as soon as she’d gone to the bathroom. I jumped once again into the cold water, which must have been colder than before since I got goose pimples and shivers across my body. I could have sworn that the pool seemed a little deeper than it had the last time. I could hear Ariel mutter from the bathroom that the lights were out. I heard water run, then the shower . She came out a few minutes later in a robe and holding another.

"I thought you were going to join me."

"I thought you’d had enough excitement for one evening."

She tossed me the robe as I exited the pool. It was a little big, but manageable. We exited the house and compound from the lower level as Ariel escorted me back to my cottage. At the door to my cottage, I invited her in, but she declined. As I went to kiss her I realized consciously for the first time that she was taller than I was. I didn’t remember her being taller. She laughed, and stuck out her foot, which had a shoe on it.

"Of course I’m taller, your barefoot and I’m in heels. Really! Men!"

She turned, smiled at me and disappeared back into the night. I opened the door and heard the soft sounds of someone sleeping. Kathy! I’d forgotten all about her! Not wishing to wake her, I entered the bathroom, relieved myself and prepared for bed. Again, I was struck by how disoriented I was. Nothing was where I could immediately put my hands on them. Everything felt different -- I felt different. I opened the medicine cabinet for my toothbrush and couldn’t find it in the dark. I always kept it on the second shelf, which was hand height for me. Cursing softly I went to the next shelf up and there it was. Damn Kathy, moved my stuff.

I went to replace it, when I realized that hand height was now the first shelf. No wonder I’missed it. What the Hell I thought, no big thing.

I crossed to the bed, a high four-poster, and went to sit down and missed it. Rather, I missed the edge altogether. I got up off the floor and felt for it and actually gave a short hop to get in. Pulling the covers down, I slipped into the bed and next to the sleeping form of Kathy.

I looked at the clock which had just turned one. I slipped into sleep, but awakened off and on over the next few hours with a tingling, itching feeling all over my body.

I was awakened just before dawn to the feel of Kathy’s hands and lips on my body kissing and caressing me. I reached out for her in the darkness but she pulled teasingly away. I felt her motion to lay on my back. I felt her lips touch all points of my chest. My dick, hard and tense with excitement, could feel the hot pant of her breath. Suddenly I noticed that her breath was not striking any hair on my groin. I felt her mouth on my dick, but I felt like I was being swallowed into a huge moist cavern. In panic I started to reach down, but she grabbed my arm with her hand -- it was huge. In a panic I started to squirm, But Kathy reached up, and grabbed both arms in hers. My strength was no match for hers. I was helpless as she pinned me beneath her body.

I suddenly realized that it wasn’t Kathy in bed with me, but some other woman -- some other giant woman! She was huge! She felt like she was at least seven feet tall. I’m no weakling, but I couldn’t even move her. I bucked and pushed, but I was helpless under her weight. I felt her positioning herself over my body and with a sharp thrust, she impaled herself on me. Or at least she would have if I’d had a dick big enough to handle her. You might as well as thrown a sausage down a subway tunnel, for all the good my dick was doing. As it were, it felt like I was barely penetrating her. Her huge ass dwarfed me. I hadn’t the strength to even lift her off me.

"Get off me, you bitch," I yelled, noticing how high my voice sounded.

I heard a deep chuckle from the woman. No doubt anymore, it wasn’t Kathy. Where was I? How did I get here? And who is this giant woman?

After she had ridden me for a few moments, she spoke, and that minute I knew I was in big trouble.

"Well, Jacky, I told you that you needed me," said the voice in the darkness. "I told you that you’re my baby. And Momma’s back to look after her baby."

I knew that voice. But it couldn’t be, but it was. It was Alice.

"Now lie still," she said, letting go of my arms, but still holding me firmly pinned beneath her ass. I could feel her reach across the bed for the light, which flicked on. The light hurt for a moment, but when I could focus I saw that Alice towered over me, almost twice my height.

"What have you done to me," I squeaked.

"Well, Jacky, what I’ve done is give you the best treatment this facility can provide. But rather than tell you what I’ve done, let me show you."

She grabbed the bed covers completely encasing me. Shut off and struggling I felt myself being lifted and carried in the sheet. I was hoisted and plopped down on a hard surface. Struggling to my feet, I saw a light come on. Pulling the sheet off my head I was confronted by an image that left me open mouthed and speechless -- for staring at me from a foot away was the image of a young boy, no more than four or five years of age. And the boy was me. I was looking in a mirror. Behind me, at nearly eye level, but still taller then I was stood Alice.

"Now what does Momma’s little boy have to say now? Huh?"



End Chapter 1

The Spa

by: Ponce | Complete Story | Last updated Jun 11, 2005


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