It is strange how trivial and random the details that will change your life can be. It is one thing if a runaway truck or a hurtling meteor reorders your world, but entirely another when your existence is transformed by something as bizarrely out-of-place as a travel brochure left carelessly in a dentist’s office. I know my dentist could not have placed it there on purpose, he had not provided his patients with anything but outdated issues of the same three magazines in the twenty years that I had been his patient. Some other visitor must have been holding it in hand when the receptionist called, and idly set it down on the side table by the chair in which I would soon sit.

“Ski Vail” the brochure said in cheery gold letters. I had ignored a thousand advertisements just like it in my life, but this one reached me at that moment when I was vulnerable to its siren call. I was feeling depressed and lonely. Recently divorced, burnt out at work, generally alienated as a newly single man in middle age. I hadn’t had a vacation in five years; my accumulated time would allow me to take off at a moment’s notice. “Yeah,” I remember thinking, “skiing. I haven’t skied since college. That is what I need. A change of scene. Some fresh air. Exercise. ‘Ski Vail.’ That’s the ticket.”

That is how I found myself alone with her, traveling together in a cable car up the slope of Mount Diana.  I had begun to regret the impulse to “ski Vail.” The weather had been overcast since I arrived at the chalet, being alone in a sea of families and couples had deepened my gloomy mood. The sky looked threatening as I boarded the tram, most of the wiser vacationers had decided to remain at the hotel and drink hot cocoa. Only I and this intriguing woman were foolhardy enough to brave the slopes.

The car was big enough to fit ten people, and we were seated on opposite sides, so we were rather far apart. Even so, my attention was drawn to her right away. She was the kind of woman who makes any attire seem sexual. She filled her hooded jacket and winter leggings in such a way that left no doubt a thrillingly gorgeous creature was to be found underneath all those wrappings. Though my own unstylish ski clothes were baggy enough to hide my erection, her brilliant green eyes seemed to smile in a way that suggested she knew she had given me the hardest wood I had experienced in a long while.

“Do you come to Vail often?” she asked, arousing me even more with the alluringly rich tones of her voice.

“Never,” I replied. “I was drawn here by a brochure that promised nicer weather. You?”

“I come only occasionally. I’m here as the guest of a slave who was unfortunate enough to injure himself yesterday. I thought I’d hit the slopes one more time,” she continued, pointing out the window of the tram, “but it looks like a storm is blowing in.”

I was intrigued by her use of the word “slave,” but distracted by the sight of the sky to which she had pointed. Sure enough, dark roiling clouds were gathering on the horizon and moving in fast.

“That looks like a blizzard,” she observed, “you’re not dressed nearly warmly enough.”

It was true. I didn’t like to be restricted while I skied, so I had worn only an insulated vest and sweater, counting on the exertion to keep me warm while I was hitting the slopes. As long as I was moving or indoors I felt fine, but if I were still and exposed for any amount of time the cold would quickly become unbearable.

“Well,” I said, “it looks like this day is lost. I’ll just ride the tram back down the mountain and go back to the lodge.”

After that we sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. I tried without success to keep from ogling her. My discomfort obviously amused her, her lips remained pursed in a subtle but knowing smile the whole time.

Partly in an attempt to flirt, partly to break the silence, partly out of sheer curiosity, I asked, “What did you mean, ‘slave’?” Just as I did, a terrific gust of wind hit the car, rocking us violently. The storm engulfed us and turned the scene suddenly dark as night. A white sheet of snow obscured our view of the valley outside.

“Wow that was fast,” she gasped.

“Good thing this car is heated,” I offered, a textbook case of speaking too soon. Almost as the words left my lips, the tram lurched to a halt and went completely dark, all its systems stopped.

“That’s bad,” I noted, communicating my mastery of the obvious.

For a few moments we sat silently, hoping that the power outage would be brief. After about a minute had passed she produced her phone from a pocket of her ski jacket and dialed.

“Hello front desk,” she began, “I and another guest are stuck in the cable car halfway up the slope of Mount Diana. Yes? Yes? I understand. All right, please hurry.”

Closing the call, she addressed me, “They said that the power outage is total. Everything in the valley has gone black. We’ll have to sit tight until they can restore the power or until a rescue can be organized. In either case we are probably stuck until the storm ends.”

“Just the vacation the brochure promised,” I joked, trying to show manly stoicism instead of the sick fear I actually felt. “Since we are going to be ‘car mates’ for a while perhaps we should be introduced,” I continued, keeping my tone light. “My name is Chris. What’s yours?”

“People call me Goddess Marquesa,” she answered.

“That’s interesting,” I stammered, feeling and sounding foolish, “how long have you had that title?”

“For as long as I’ve been making men like you stiff with desire,” she teased, smiling wickedly. This made me blush, and I began to apologize, but she cut me off. “It’s quite all right,” she soothed. “I’m used to the effect I have on men. You did your best to be polite. It’s not your fault that you find me irresistibly arousing.”

My initial impulse was to protest, but I realized that dignified pretense was both futile and absurd under the circumstances, so after a moment’s pause I simply replied, “Thank you. I’m glad you understand.”

“Hey…you’re freezing,” she noted in alarm. “I would like to say that it is your yearning for me that is making you tremble, but I’ve never made a man’s teeth chatter like that.”

It was true, the temperature in the car had dropped to well below zero, and my light clothes left me unprotected. My whole body was shaking violently in protest of the cold. I rubbed my hands against my forearms to try to generate some heat, but this did little except make me painfully aware of how numb my fingers were becoming under my light gloves.

Goddess Marquesa rose and began searching about the cabin of the car using the light app on her phone. Along one side of the car was a small glass cabinet marked “Emergency.” Opening this, she found it contained a defibrillator, a first-aid kit, and a flashlight. None of those items were of any help in my current circumstances, but the single woolen blanket in the cabinet was.

“Take this,” Goddess Marquesa said, handing me the blanket.

“What about you?” I asked.

“Don’t be foolish,” she scolded. “Whether because of my clothes or my metabolism, so far I’m fine. You, on the other hand, are expiring from hypothermia. Use the blanket.”

I took the blanket and wrapped it around myself. It helped, but the trembling and chattering in my limbs and teeth continued unabated. After a few more minutes, Goddess Marquesa spoke again, “You’re turning pale white. We have to try something more. Lie on the floor of the car,” she ordered.

The winds outside the car howled. I did as she directed, and she laid down next to me, covering us both with the blanket. “Put your arms around me,” she directed, “try to use some of my heat to get warm.”

I obeyed, embarrassed that doing so made jabbing her with my erection unavoidable. “I’m sorry,” I stammered abashedly as my stiff member poked the soft flesh of her thigh. She rolled her eyes as if to say that I was being silly and returned my embrace, drawing me to her closely.

I was too excited by this enforced proximity to Goddess Marquesa to obtain a clear read on my situation. All I could think about was the delicious scent rising from her blonde locks and the incredible resilience of her breasts against my chest. My only thought in any way related to self-preservation was that if I died, I would die happy.

Her thinking was clearer than mine. After a few minutes, she declared, “This isn’t working well enough. You’re still trembling, your lips are turning blue. We need to bring your core temperature up.”

I gasped in surprise. Her hand had reached down the front of my pants and grabbed my stiff cock. “What? Are you…uh….” I sputtered incoherently.

“Shut up and relax,” she ordered in a businesslike tone. “We can use your lust for me to save your life. Listen to my voice. Focus on your breath. Breathe in….breathe out…don’t worry about my hand….just enjoy the sensation….Feel yourself getting sleepy…going down….down…..”

It was the strangest and most wonderful feeling I had ever experienced, like rocketing off in two directions at once. On the one hand I felt myself becoming explosively aroused. Delirious waves of pleasure radiated inward from my cock. On the other hand, my mind became blissfully serene. Every fiber of my psyche seemed to slacken and relax.

“You are now completely entranced,” she continued, “completely in thrall to my voice. My will is stronger than your will. Say it.”

“Your will is stronger than my will, Goddess Marquesa,” I could hear myself say, though I was not aware of having intended to do so.

“Very good, pet. When I count to three you are going to come to the very edge of orgasm, but you will not cross that line. You will remain on the verge of cumming until I release you. Your body and mind are under My control. Say you understand.”

“I understand, Goddess Marquesa.”

“Excellent,” she purred. “One…two…three!”

I could feel Goddess Marquesa’s hand stop its steady stroke of my cock, but my body seemed to have a will of its own. I rose to the very edge of orgasm, so that I could swear that I actually felt the valves and ducts in my testicles spasming in expectation of release. That delicious sense of anticipation filled my mind and body, but instead of yielding to catharsis in a fraction of a second, it lingered…and lingered….I was locked, frozen on the edge of climax, hovering in a state of torment that was a hair’s-breadth removed from ecstasy.

“Oh, God…” I moaned. “Please let me cum….”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. “You’re finally generating some heat.”

It was true. My body had become feverishly flushed. I was radiating enough heat for the both of us. I could actually see the steam rising from my cheeks into the small space that separated our faces drawn close in embrace.

“Marquesa…” I pleaded, “You’re so beautiful….I need…I must…”

I couldn’t think clearly to form the thought. The stimulation to my body had honed the feelings she inspired in me to a razor’s edge. It felt like I had a prayer to Her bottled up in me that needed to get out. The compulsion to worship Her with my body was overwhelming and irresistible.

“I know, pet, I know…” she cooed, “Goddess is here. Don’t fight it…just surrender to My power. Accept my control.”

I tried. I leaned down and placed my face against her breasts and clung to Her, trembling now with need instead of cold. I moaned. I wept. But the torture was too exquisite Eventually my will broke, and I began to plead again.

“Please, Goddess….have mercy….please….let me release…let me cum….”

“If you cum, you’ll die,” she scolded.

“I don’t care,” I gasped. “Let me die in your arms…let me die for you…” Crazy as it sounds, I meant it to my bones. I had never loved anyone or anything the way I loved Her in that moment. I needed to channel that love through my body. To give that energy to Her.

“That’s sweet, pet,” she purred, “but I’d rather that you live for me. Let’s play a game to help keep your mind off your torment. I call it ‘Confess to Goddess.’ I am going to ask you questions…questions you’ve never answered for anyone, perhaps even yourself. Questions that you won’t want to answer. Trying to resist answering them will distract you from how much you need to cum. Hmmm….where should we begin? What is the kinkiest thing you’ve ever done to yourself while masturbating?”

A memory made me stiffen. “I don’t know…” I dithered, “look at porn…”

“You’re lying, Chris, Goddess can tell,” she mused. “Tell the truth, pet.”


“Confess to Goddess. Confess or I will stop this orgasm now.”

Panic seized me. The truth burst forth: “I was curious about what it feels like…in the butt…so I took a carrot….”

She laughed, a sound that was like gasoline poured on the flame of my desire. “Oh…see?” she said brightly. “That wasn’t so hard. Good pet. Let’s look at something more serious. Are you married, Chris?”

“No, divorced…” I answered, worried about the direction she was going, even as I struggled to speak intelligibly through my trembling.

“And why did your wife leave you?”

It didn’t occur to me to ask how she knew that it was my wife who had broken it off. “I don’t know…” I said evasively.

“Oh, but you do…deep down, you do….,” she purred.

It went on like this for hours. She excavated every aspect of my life. Loves. Friendships. Family. Work. School. Sex. Money. Every idiosyncrasy, every shortcoming, every mistake, every flaw. She was uncannily perceptive. She knew when I was being dishonest even with myself. At times I wept, pleading with her not to force me to speak. But my need was overwhelming and thus her power was total. I told her everything she demanded. After a while there was little of a truly personal nature left for her to discover, and so she forced me to reveal passwords and account names. I would have given her everything I owned if she had asked.

Five hours after we had become trapped, electric lights filled the car. We had not noticed the end of the storm because night had fallen before the skies cleared. The car rocked beneath us as it began to move.

Goddess Marquesa bent her head and whispered in my ear, “Cum for me now darling.”

I erupted so volcanically that even now the memory of the experience is hazy, a deeply etched but violently ragged sense-impression that is impossible to cast into words. Semen flowed copiously, but more than the physical effluence the psychic and spiritual energy that gushed from every pore and orifice in my body was boundless.

I was unconscious when the tram reached the valley floor. I was taken to the local hospital and treated for symptoms of shock. The doctors expressed surprise that I exhibited none of the normal signs of hypothermia.

One question I had asked of Goddess Marquesa was answered for me. As soon as I awoke in the hospital I understood what she meant when she mentioned her “slave.” The impulse to worship and obey Her descended on me as spontaneously as the arrival of swallows in spring.

Having been released from the hospital, I rushed back and found her in the lobby of the ski lodge, checking out at the front desk. “Goddess,” I gasped, falling to my knees at Her feet. “Please let me belong to You. Let me serve You for the rest of my life.”

She looked down at me with an expression both tender and mildly abashed, but not surprised. “I’m sorry,” She said, “I knew that this was a risk of My hypnotizing you the way I did, but it is the only way I could think to save your life.”

“Goddess,” I declared, “Don’t be sorry. Of all the things You did, I am most grateful for Your making me worship You. If you let me be Your slave, You will not only have saved my life, You will have given it meaning.”

She hesitated for a moment, thinking, then extended Her hand to me in assent to my plea. I grasped it and covered it with kisses and tears. That moment was the moment my life truly began. As I expressed my gratitude in rapt worship, I felt an ecstasy even greater than I had when she finally granted me release in the cable car. How strange and wonderful that my most blissful release was achieved in becoming a slave. Her slave.



The End