Margo swung her racquet at the ball, driving it sharply to the front wall just above ankle height. The ball hit with a sharp splat and caromed off at an angle toward the left side wall. Larry raced forward and just managed to get his racquet on the ball and return it. Margo waited for the high shot to come down and smashed another wicked shot, this time driving it toward the back right corner. Larry tried desperately to reach the ball before it bounced a second time, but his dive was just short and the ball dribbled onto the floor. “Game!” called Margo. “I win fifteen to four.” She walked over and helped Larry to his feet. “Good game.” “Thanks,” gasped Larry, looking up at her. “Got time for another?” “Nope, time for me to get to work,” Margo answered. “Come on Margo, let me try to win one.” “Sorry, guy, you’re just going to have to wait a while,” said Margo. “Besides, I’ve beaten you every time we’ve played. Aren’t you getting tired of losing?” “Well, now that you mention it, yeah,” answered Larry. “Let’s see, so far you’ve beaten me in the only marathon we ran together, killed me at tennis, squash, handball, golf, and racquetball, and even mated me the only time we played chess.” He shook his head slowly. “I’m running out of things to try.” “Face it babe, you’re just not in my league. I’m quicker, smarter, faster, and stronger than you are.” Margo smirked and added, “Maybe you should hit the weight room a little more and the dining room a little less.” “Hey, now, let’s not get nasty,” snapped Larry. “I’m in pretty good shape for a guy who works at a desk forty hours a week. Besides, who says you’re stronger than I am? I’m willing to concede that you’re faster, maybe even smarter, but there’s no way you’re stronger than me.” Margo’s face froze. “Watch it buddy. You’re mouth’s writing checks your body can’t cash,” she growled. “What the hell does that mean?” Larry demanded. “It means, how do you know I’m not stronger than you are?” “Because men are stronger than women,” replied Larry. Margo threw her head back and roared with laughter. “Why, you chauvinistic, conceited, stupid idiot,” Margo said, wiping sweat off her face. “I’ll admit that some men are stronger than some women. That doesn’t mean you are stronger than me! It just doesn’t work that way. Have you ever seen any evidence that I’m not stronger than you are?” “Well, no. I’ve never seen your arms or legs, you always wear long sleeves and pants, and you always work out in an oversized sweatsuit.” “And you’ve never seen me lift weights, either. On the other hand, I’ve seen your arms and legs, Skinny. I’ve got a pretty good idea of your strength.” A smile touched Margo’s lips briefly. “So let’s go on the evidence you’ve got.” “Well, you’re a couple of inches taller than I am,” Larry mused. “You’ve got a pretty athletic build, from what I can see. But I still can’t believe you’re stronger than me.” “What would it take to convince you? Do you want to see who can lift more weight?” “Weightlifting’s no good, technique means as much as strength.” Larry thought a second. “I used to be a pretty good wrestler in college. Why don’t we wrestle to see who’s stronger?” Margo laughed again. “You think the stronger wrestler always wins? You’ve admitted you know something about the sport, what if I don’t? I’d say that would give you something of an advantage, wouldn’t you?” She shook her head, sending drops of perspiration to the floor. “Boy, talk about trying to stack the deck in your favor.” Margo stepped closer to Larry, forcing him back a step. “However, it does give me an idea. A contest with five parts.” Margo poked a finger into Larry’s chest as she ticked off the different tests. “Arm wrestling, leg wrestling, a tug of war, simultaneous bear hugs, and simultaneous head scissors. The winner of three of the ‘tests of strength’ is declared the stronger, and the loser has to be the winner’s servant for a month.” “Well, I’m not sure…” “What’s the matter, big talker, losing your nerve?” “You’re on, Margo,” said Larry angrily. “Where are we going to do this, and who can we get to referee?” “I know a private gym, and the owner will be glad to act as referee. When?” “How about tomorrow night?” “Eight o’clock?” “You’re on! See you then.” Larry headed off to the showers. Margo smiled. “Yeah, Larry, see you then,” she said softly. She bent down and picked up the racquetball in her left hand. With a slow, steady increase in pressure she squeezed the ball until it split. Margo laughed, then dropped the mutilated ball to the floor and headed to the locker room. Larry’s telephone rang the next morning. “Hello,” he said. “Hi, Sweetie, guess who?” Margo’s voice purred. “Yeah, Margo, what’s up?” “Here’s the address of the gym for tonight’s little contest. Ready?” “Margo, are you sure you want to do this?” “What’s the matter, getting cold feet?” the voice taunted. “Chicken…” “Just give me the damn address,” he snarled. Larry grabbed a pen and paper and wrote the address down. “Eight o’clock, right?” he said. “Right you are, Babe. Don’t be late,” Margo warned. “By the way, I’ve invited some friends along to watch. Is that okay with you, or will you be too embarrassed to get beat in front of a crowd?” “Bring along whoever you want, big talker. I just hope they won’t be too disappointed when you lose,” Larry retorted. “My, aren’t we confident!” teased Margo. “See you later.” Larry slammed the phone down. “Bitch!” he muttered. Larry arrived at the designated address at a quarter to eight that evening. He parked his car in front of a square, run down two story building. A sign above the door read “Dominique’s Amazon Gym - Members Only”. A tall young black woman dressed in a sweat suit and smoking a cigar leaned against the wall next to the door with her arms crossed. “You Larry?” she asked. “Yeah.” “Come on in. Everyone’s here.” She tossed away the cigar, then opened the door and motioned Larry through into a hallway that smelled of leather, liniment, and sweat. “Sorry there’s no men’s locker room, never needed one,” the woman continued. “We cleaned out a utility closet for you.” She indicated a door on the right. “Hope it’s big enough.” “It’ll do. Thanks, uh…” “Name’s Dominique.” As the woman stuck out a large paw and shook Larry’s hand, he noticed that her shoulders were exceptionally wide and she towered above him by a good seven inches. “When you’re dressed, just walk up those stairs at the end of the hall. Good luck, Larry.” Dominique turned on her heel, and he thought he heard her mutter, “You’ll need it.” She walked off with long, confident strides. Larry changed to shorts and a tee shirt. He tied his sneakers tightly and did a couple of knee bends in the cramped space of the small closet. He was beginning to regret that he had ever gotten into this, but was too stubborn to back down now. Larry walked down the hall and climbed the stairs. He didn’t know exactly what he had expected, but it was nothing like what met his eyes as he reached the upper floor. There was a large room, probably the entire upper floor of the building. Inside Larry could make out several punching bags, both speed bags and heavy body bags. Along one wall was a large collection of barbells and weights. Across the room from the stairs was what looked like a regulation boxing ring, complete with ropes and bell. Bleachers were pulled out from the wall to provide seating for about fifty people. As he crossed the floor, he noticed that all the other people in the room were women. He saw Margo, dressed in her usual floppy sweats, her pale hair tied into a pony tail, standing next to the ring talking to Dominique. Slowly he realized that the buzz of conversations had died down and all the women were staring at him. Margo glanced over at him and smiled grimly. “Well, nice to see you’re punctual,” she called. “Come on over and let’s get started.” Larry crossed the floor to where Dominique and Margo waited. Dominique looked down at him and snickered slightly. Larry reddened. “OK, there’ll be five tests of strength,” said Dominique, “starting with arm wrestling. That’ll be followed by leg wrestling, tug of war, bear hugs and head scissors. It takes three wins to be declared the champion. All five tests will be completed, even if one person loses the first three.” She looked at Larry and snickered again. “First thing I’m going to do is weigh you both in,” Dominique continued. “I’ll get your heights, too.” She led the way to the scale. “Margo first.”….. Margo stepped on the scale. “Weight, two fourteen,” called Dominique. She adjusted the ruler to the top of Margo’s head. “Height, six feet three inches.” Larry was stunned by Margo’s size. He hadn’t realized that Margo was that tall, and he thought their weights were nearly the same, but she weighed at least forty pounds more than he did. Dominique turned to Larry. “Your turn.” Margo stepped down right into Larry’s path. For a second his brown eyes stared into her Arctic gray ones, then Margo stepped aside with a mocking smile. “Weight, one seventy-one,” Dominique said. “Height, five feet eleven.” Dominique led the way to the ring. Larry saw that it contained an unusual table, about three feet square. The table had a peg on two sides and what looked like leather cups on the alternate sides. The table was mounted on a piece of wood about ten feet by four feet. Margo stalked to one side of the table, behind one of the cups. Larry moved uncertainly to the side opposite her. “This is a regulation arm wrestling table,” explained Dominique. “You put your elbow in the cup and you grab the peg with your other hand. You each get a good grip with interlocked thumbs and then I set you up in the right position. Then I’ll say ‘go’ and you try to pin your opponent’s arm down.” She looked at both contestants. “You have five minutes to beat your opponent, after that I call it a draw. Any questions?” Neither Margo nor Larry said anything. “Either one of you left handed?” asked Dominique. Both contestants shook their heads. “OK, then, this’ll be just the one fall, right hands only. If your grip slips, I’ll strap you together.” She held up a canvas strap. “Now, get in position.” Larry uneasily placed his right elbow into the padded receptacle and grabbed the peg on the left side of the table. Margo deliberately rolled up the right sleeve of her sweatshirt and placed her elbow in it’s place. Larry was dumbfounded to see the thick sinews running through Margo’s forearm. He looked up at her face and saw that she was watching him intently. Larry stared into Margo’s gray eyes like a bird hypnotized by a snake. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off hers. Dominique took both their right hands and ordered them to grip each other’s thumbs, with the wrists crossing. Larry finally looked away from Margo’s stare and concentrated on getting a good grip on Margo’s hand. He couldn’t help noticing that her forearm made his look small, and her hand was much larger than his was. When they were both satisfied with the grip, Dominique took their clasped hands in both her huge ones and twisted them until she had them perfectly straight. Larry tensed his muscles and readied himself to slam Margo’s arm down. Dominique looked at each of them and said, “Ready?” Larry and Margo both nodded. Dominique released their hands, calling, “GO!” Larry put all his power into his right arm, trying for a quick pin, but Margo’s arm didn’t budge. Sweat broke out on Larry’s forehead as he tried to force her arm to the table, while Margo stood as still as a statue, showing no strain at all from holding his arm vertical. For what seemed like an eternity Larry kept up the pressure until his arm trembled from the exertion and he began to pant. Margo waited until he looked into her eyes again, and then, with a slight smile on her lovely face, she slowly began to force his right arm down. Sweat was running down Larry’s face, and his hand was sweating as well, but Margo retained her grip and was forcing his arm down a millimeter at a time. Larry tried to hold her back, but it was like trying to hold back an avalanche with a toothpick. Slowly, inexorably, Larry’s arm approached the table until it was pinned firmly down against Margo’s left arm. She held it there for several seconds while she mockingly smiled at Larry’s embarrassment. “THE WINNER!” called Dominique, “in forty-three seconds.” Margo released Larry’s sore arm and allowed hers to be raised in victory. “Margo leads, one to zero!” There was a large chalkboard on the wall behind the ring with both Larry’s and Margo’s names printed on it. Margo walked over and put a mark under her name. “There’ll be a five minute break while we clear the table out of the ring,” announced Dominique. She waved her arm and two burly women got up into the ring and lifted the table over the ropes, handing it to Dominique on the outside. She steadied it with little effort while her assistants clambered out of the ring to take the table from her and store it in a corner. In the meantime, Larry was trying to work the pain and stiffness out of his right arm. He was stunned by Margo’s easy victory, especially because he had been counting on beating her in the arm wrestling. Nervously he looked over at her while she sipped some water and chatted with a few of the onlookers. Margo looked fresh and cool, while he was dripping sweat. Before he was ready, Dominique called, “Yo, Margo! Larry! In the ring! Now!” Margo jumped from the floor to the ring apron, about three feet above the floor. She then vaulted over the top rope into the ring. “Show-off,” muttered Larry very quietly as he climbed the steps and ducked between the second and third ropes to enter the ring. “The second test of strength is leg wrestling,” said Dominique. “Each of you lays down on the mat, right side to right side. You’ll link your right arms at the elbow. I’ll count ‘one, two, three, go’. At each number, you lift your right leg in the air and lower it down again. On ‘go’, you hook legs at the knees and try to pull your opponent over.” She looked at Margo and Larry. “You got that?” The man and woman both nodded. While Larry sat down on the mat, Margo removed her floppy sweat pants, revealing her legs to Larry for the first time. Larry stared in disbelief at Margo’s lower body. She wore only bikini briefs, and her legs seemed (to Larry) about five feet long. Her thighs and calves bulged with power. Larry stared at Margo’s heavily muscled legs and tried not to think that in the last contest he’d have to put his head between her thighs and let her squeeze with all her strength. Margo moved directly in front of Larry’s face until her thighs completely filled his field of vision. “I’ve got thirty-two inch thighs, Larry, and nineteen inch calves,” Margo purred softly. “What are your measurements, about twenty and ten?” Margo and Dominique both laughed at Larry’s discomfort. Margo finally moved away and lay down on the mat at Larry’s right side. “Lock arms,” ordered Dominique. Larry linked his arm with Margo’s. It felt as hard as granite. “Jesus,” he thought, “what did I get myself into?” “Ready?” asked Dominique. “Let’s do it,” growled Margo. Larry gulped and squeaked, “Ready.” “One.” The two right legs rose and fell. “Two.” Again Margo’s muscular leg and Larry’s smaller one lifted and dropped. “Three. GO!” Larry and Margo’s legs locked, and Larry devoted all his strength into trying to force Margo to flip over, to no avail. Again he pulled with all his power, but Margo didn’t budge. She seemed to be humming a tune to herself. Larry tried a third time to pull Margo’s leg down, but couldn’t budge it. At that point Margo tired of the game and utilized the strength in her enormous leg to effortlessly flip Larry over onto his head. As his feet touched the floor, he heard Dominique once again call, “THE WINNER!” Embarrassed, he rolled over and watched Margo stand over him with her arms raised in victory. “Time, twenty-one seconds,” said Dominique, punching her stop watch. “Margo now leads two to zero.” Larry started to sit up, but Margo put her foot on his chest and forced him back down to the mat. “Hey, cut it out!” he sputtered. Margo removed her foot from his chest and leaned down. “What are you going to do about it, Shrimp?” she asked. When Larry didn’t answer, she laughed and walked over to the chalkboard, where she placed another mark under her name. Dominique stood over Larry. “Would you get up please? We have to get ready for the tug of war.” She extended her huge right hand. Larry reached up and she grabbed him, her hand nearly encircling his forearm. Dominique pulled and Larry found himself heaved to his feet. Dominique laughed at the expression on his face, then released his arm and waved her assistants into the ring. Larry stumbled out of the ring. The last contest hadn’t taken that much out of him, but he was disconcerted by the ease of Margo’s victory, and frightened by the obvious power she possessed. He decided to give up and admit her superior strength, hoping to prevent pain and further humiliation. Margo was sipping some water and toweling off her face. Larry approached her, realizing for the first time just how wide her shoulders were. “Margo,” he began, “uh, I’m sorry I doubted you were stronger than me. I concede, you win.” Margo turned and scowled menacingly. “Oh, no you don’t, you wimpy little shit. You agreed to all this, and you’re not getting off that easy. I’m going to beat you in all the other contests, too.” She smiled tauntingly. “Besides, it’s only two to nothing, you’ve still got a chance to win if you beat me three in a row.” The women sitting nearby laughed at this. Margo glanced at them and grinned. “Well, it’s not very much of a chance, I’ll grant you,” she added, causing even more laughter. “Come on, Margo, I give,” said Larry. “You’re stronger than I am, I admit it. Isn’t that what this is about?” Margo moved closer, her face only inches from his. Larry saw no pity in her cool gray eyes. “You might have thought so, skinny,” she replied in a low voice. “For me, it’s a chance to humiliate another weak male who thought he was better than me. I really get off on making my victims beg for mercy.” Margo licked her lips. “You wouldn’t want to deprive me of my little pleasures, would you?” she went on. “I might get upset and decide to really hurt you.” “Come on, you two,” called Dominique from the ring, “we’re ready for you.” Margo slapped Larry’s face lightly. “Now be a good boy and get in the ring so I don’t lose my temper,” she purred sexily. “You wouldn’t last more than a minute if I decided to really get rough, and it wouldn’t be any fun, at least not for you.” She smiled wickedly at his discomfort. “And you’d better really try to win the tug of war, or I’ll really make you suffer in the last two events.” Margo took Larry by the shoulder and turned him toward the ring, then gave him a push, which amused the spectators. Larry tried to resist as Margo propelled him toward the ring, but Margo’s strength prevailed. He found himself stumbling against the edge of the ring as she gave him a final push. Once again he climbed the steps to the arena and clambered between the ropes, while Margo effortlessly jumped onto the apron and vaulted into the ring. Dominique awaited them in the center of the ring. There were three lines of tape on the ring floor. One was set up so that it stretched between two opposite corners. The other two were set about five feet on either side of the first. A rope with a rag tied around the middle crossed the three tape lines. “The rules for the tug of war are simple,” Dominique explained. “You start behind the tape nearest the corners and you each grab an end of the rope. You can’t tie it around you, but you can wrap it around your arm if you want to. I’ll position the flag over the middle line and when I say ‘go’, you pull like hell.” She smiled and continued, “The object is to pull the flag past the line on your side of the ring.” Margo nodded and busied herself in wrapping her end of the rope around her right arm. Larry picked the rope up in his hands and set himself. “By the way,” Dominique added, “if the rope slips out of your hands, we’ll start again.” Larry quickly wrapped the rope around his bare arm, wishing he’d worn long sleeves. Dominique grabbed the rope where the flag was fastened and positioned it to her satisfaction over the center line. “Take up the slack,” she ordered. Margo and Larry obeyed, pulling the rope in until it was taut. “Get ready,” Dominique called. With a quick glance at Margo and Larry, she released the rope and called, “GO!” Larry put his entire body into the effort, using all the strength of his arms, back, and legs in an attempt to pull the flag across the line on his side of the ring, but the flag didn’t move a millimeter. Sweat broke out on his forehead and dripped into his eyes as he strained to pull Margo across the ring. He looked up and saw Margo just standing there, a mocking smile on her pretty face, totally at ease, as she withstood his best pull without strain. Now the rough rope began to cut into his arm and hands, burning and bruising the flesh. He redoubled his efforts, grunting as he tugged and pulled, but the only effect on Margo was a broader smile. To anyone watching only him, it might have looked as if Larry was pulling on a rope tied to a large tree. Margo called, “Are you having fun yet?” The crowd of women laughed at that. Margo turned to the bleachers and asked, “Has he started to pull?” Once again the crowd responded with amusement. “Well, I might as well finish this,” said Margo. Even through her sweatshirt, Larry could see the muscles in Margo’s arms bulge as she started to pull for the first time. Hand over hand she hauled in the rope, with Larry desperately trying to resist her pull. “Just like reeling in a little fish,” crowed Margo as Larry was dragged across the ring. Margo pulled Larry toward her with only the power in her arms. Those huge, sinewy legs never moved, and she never seemed to need to put her back into the effort. First the flag, then Larry himself, were pulled across the tape on Margo’s side of the ring. “Margo wins again,” called Dominique, sounding somewhat bored. Larry slumped to the canvas covering the ring as Margo shook loose the coils of rope and again raised her arms over her head in a victory pose. Disdainfully, Margo looked down at Larry groveling at her feet. “That’s where you belong, you know,” she said as she stepped across his body to chalk up another mark under her name. “The score is Margo three, Larry nothing,” called Dominique. “By the rules, Margo wins the test of strength, but Larry still has to compete in the last two events.” Margo walked over to Dominique and whispered to her. “Well, now, that’s mighty generous of you,” said Dominique. “Margo says if Larry can win even one of the remaining events, he’ll win the whole thing.” She looked at Larry, then turned back to Margo. “I still like your chances, Margo,” she said. The spectators erupted in laughter. “We’ll get the ring ready for the last two events.” Margo vaulted out of the ring and picked up her towel, drying a thin sheen of perspiration from her upper lip. Larry slowly pulled himself up to his feet using the ropes. Dominique’s two assistants were busy removing the tape and rope from the ring. Dominique walked over to Larry, an amused look on her pretty face. “You look like you’ve just about had it, buddy,” she said. “There’s a water cooler just outside the door over there,” she continued. “Why don’t you get yourself a drink and relax for a minute?” As Larry crawled out of the ring and staggered toward the door, Dominique followed him with her eyes. “You’re out of your league, skinny,” she muttered. Larry drank deeply from the water cooler, then rinsed his sore arms, trying to take the sting out of the rope burns. He thought about running down the stairs and out the door, but a quick glance back into the gym showed that Margo was watching him closely. He took a deep breath and went back in. “I thought you might try to escape, Larry,” said Margo. It’s a good thing for you that you didn’t. If I had to catch you and bring you back here, it might have made me mad.” She leaned closer and whispered, “And you’d better not quit on me, Babycakes. If I think you’re not trying, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.” Margo turned away and pulled her sweatshirt over her head. Larry was astounded by the big woman’s muscular development. Bulging muscles covered her back, and her arms were massive. Her wide shoulders tapered to her narrow waist. As she turned to face him, he saw that her chest was thick and powerful. Even the breasts under her bikini top looked firm. “Now do you understand?” asked Margo. “I’ve been holding back whenever we competed so you’d feel that you might be able to beat me. Now you can see what you’re really up against.” She flexed her arms and chest in a “most muscular” pose. The sinews danced under her glistening skin. “Eighteen inch biceps, Larry,” went on Margo, “and a forty-six inch chest. Thighs that are bigger than your waist. All of it, hard as granite.” Now she flexed her biceps so they bulged like cannonballs. “And you really thought you had a chance?” Margo shook her head in mock pity. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. You were dead meat from the minute you and I met. Now get in the ring and take your punishment.” Larry clambered slowly into the ring. He knew that Margo was deadly serious about this contest, and he also knew that he was overmatched. He also knew that there was no escape. He turned slowly to face his massive female opponent as Dominique explained the rules of the fourth contest. “You get each other in a bear hug, with your right arm over the other person’s left arm. Lock your hands together and squeeze. To give up you must say the words ‘I quit’ so I can hear them.” Dominique looked at them both. “That is, if you’ve got the breath to speak. If you can’t speak, let go of your hold. Are you ready?” she asked. Larry gulped and nodded. “Let’s do it,” growled Margo. They stood chest to chest and secured the bear hugs. Larry had to tilt his head back to look into Margo’s eyes, which showed no pity. He could feel the awesome power in Margo’s arms first hand now, and it frightened him. Larry could barely stretch his arms out far enough to clasp his own hands behind Margo’s broad back. “GO!” called Dominique. Even though he knew it was useless, Larry put all his strength into his arms, trying to squeeze the breath out of Margo’s body. He tried desperately to force the big woman to concede, but made no impression on her. Margo deliberately increased the pressure of her brawny arms, until she could feel Larry beginning to have trouble breathing. She held there, waiting, secure in the knowledge that she could crush Larry at any time she wished. Larry was unable to cause Margo any discomfort at all, while she had nearly cut off his breath. He began to gasp for air, bringing a smile to Margo’s lips. Margo slowly lifted Larry’s hundred and seventy-one pounds off the floor until his feet were dangling helplessly. She kept intensifying the power of her arms, tightening the circle surrounding Larry’s torso, until he gasped in pain. “Aaarrgghhh!” Larry moaned. He tried to say “I quit”, but didn’t have the air in his lungs. Margo’s brawny arms continued the crushing pressure on Larry’s trapped body until he was sure his ribs were breaking. He started to black out, his brain starved for oxygen. “You’d better give up, Larry,” murmured Margo, “or I’ll have to really squeeze. I’m barely using half my strength at the moment.” She gave him a quick jolt of even greater force, forcing another groan from his mouth. “I could hold you up here and keep squeezing forever. If you can’t speak, let go of your hold, dummy.” Larry dimly remembered that his arms were still wrapped loosely around Margo’s body. He released his grasp just as he completely lost consciousness. “Margo wins!” called Dominique as Larry’s right arm flopped limply to his side. His left arm was still trapped under Margo’s right arm. “Let him go.” Margo reluctantly released her prey, and Larry crumpled to the mat. She placed one foot on his head and flexed her biceps as Dominique announced, “Margo now leads four to nothing.” She looked down at Larry’s supine form. “Somebody wake him up, please.” Margo chalked up a fourth mark under her name and looked back to where one of Dominique’s assistants was trying to revive Larry with smelling salts. Larry sniffed the pungent aroma and shook his head, then suddenly his eyes opened and he sat up. The pain in his head and ribs reminded him of where he was and he sank back down again. “Time now for the final contest. So far, you haven’t done too well, Larry,” said Dominique while the onlookers laughed. “But you can win it all if you can make Margo give up in this one last test of strength.” She snickered loudly. Margo knelt beside Larry and murmured, “This is the only way I’d ever let you between my legs, you know.” Then she lay down and turned on her side so her head was opposite his legs. “Now, this contest won’t be over until one of you either gives up or is knocked out,” said Dominique. “If you want to give up, wave one arm. Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait until I decide you’re unconscious. Oh, and you can’t try to break the other person’s hold. Okay, Larry, lay facing Margo and let her put her head between your legs,” Dominique ordered. Larry complied, then put his head between Margo’s thickly muscled thighs. “Now, lock your ankles loosely and don’t start squeezing until I say go,” Dominique continued. Larry crossed his ankles, then felt Margo do the same. He was facing her crotch, and could smell her musky odor mixed with the tangy smell of sweat. “Ready, GO!” called Dominique. Even though Larry knew it was hopeless, he tried to squeeze Margo’s head. He remembered her threat and knew she meant what she said. Moreover, he was scared shitless of what she might do to him if he didn’t try to win. Margo knew that Larry was squeezing with all his might, but it didn’t bother her at all. She slowly increased the pressure of her brawny legs, so it wouldn’t be over too quickly. Margo’s rock hard thighs swelled as she intensified the strain on Larry’s skull. The pain in Larry’s head was agonizing, and he knew he couldn’t hold out very long. It felt like his head was being crushed flat between the steel jaws of a giant vise. Larry’s hold was loosening as he concentrated on remaining conscious. Margo continued the unrelenting pressure, using now nearly half the power in those mighty legs. She thought of all the others she had humiliated, and smiled. There was nothing like the feeling of crushing a man unconscious, knowing he was helpless to prevent it. By now Larry was in dreamland. His arms lay limp, and his legs exerted no pressure on Margo’s head. Dominique leaned close to make sure, then ordered Margo to release her hold. Margo did so reluctantly, then stood up and once again put a foot on the head of the helpless male. Dominique raised Margo’s arm in victory, then hugged her and kissed her passionately on the mouth. Margo returned the embrace, then stepped back and murmured, “Later.” She looked down at Larry’s inert body and knelt down beside him. She quickly stripped his shorts off, then ripped off his jock strap and raised it over her head in triumph. This one would be hung up next to her locker with all the others

Unmerciful lesbian mistress spanks her slave

     “Don’t look now, June, but our peeping tom is at the back door again,” Susan said as her roommate came into the house. “Mmm,” June responded, “he seems to be dropping around often.” The two girls lived in a comfortable one-story bungalow in a quiet part of the city. June was a glamorous-looking dark-haired girl who was a featured dancer in one of the city’s best night spots. Her specialty was an exotic number that showed off her 5′7″, 130 pound body to perfection. She moved with a grace and fluidity that belied her above-average size. Susan was a beautiful blonde who modeled lingerie for a large department store. She was 5′5″ and 118 pounds, and boasted an enticing figure. While both girls were used to having men admire their figures, and indeed enjoyed it, they were getting concerned about the peeping tom. They had first noticed him peering in through the rear door one night about three weeks ago. Their first reaction was to scream, but they had remained silent, hoping he would go away. He had left after a few minutes, but had been coming back, and for increasing periods of time. He could no longer be ignored. June and Susan now sat in the living room and pondered what to do. “He’s getting on my nerves,” Susan said in a low voice so the peeping tom could not hear her, “and I’m sure he’s the one that’s stolen all those panties of mine off the clothesline out back.” “Yes, and I’ve lost several pairs of nylons to him,” June said. “Apparently he’s going to keep on bothering us unless we do something.” “But what?” Susan asked. June paused before answering. “I don’t think it will do much good to call the police. We don’t even know his name. I think it would be best to take matters in our own hands. Suppose we could lure him into the house on some pretext, pin him down, maybe take off some of his clothes so he can’t escape, and then work him over until he’s so scared and embarrassed he won’t think of bothering us again.” “Sounds okay,” Susan agreed, “but how do we do that? After all, he’s bigger than either of us, and we might get hurt trying something like that.” June shifted her position on the couch, showing a good flash of nylon as she did so, muttering, “might as well show our visitor something to keep him occupied while we plot his downfall.” She continued, “I think, if we work together, we can handle him. I’m big and strong enough to give most men a good tussle, and if I have to get dirty I can be murder on a man in the clinches - as some of the wolves in this town have found out the hard way. And I know you’re stronger than you look, and know a little something about handling a man. Remember that creep in the movie lobby? He’s probably still hurting from that knee you rammed into his stomach?” “I still don’t know, June. I don’t think we can take him on straightaway, even together,” Susan said. “Well, let’s use a little strategy and some feminine weapons,” June said. “I’ve been thinking about a plan since last time he was here. First, to lure him in here, I think we have to make it seem like there’s only one of us around. He probably would be too uneasy with both of us. Now, suppose you pretend to leave on an errand. I’ll toss some curves his way to get him really hooked, then ‘accidentally’ discover him without letting on I knew he was out there peeping. Once I get him inside, I’ll turn on the charm and get him in a necking session. I’ll start unloosening his clothes until he discovers what I’m up to, then call for help. You come out from where you’ve been hiding, and we’ll get him down, sit on him, and take off his clothes. That should slow him down. Then we can tie him up and work him over.” After listening to June’s plan, Susan still had some doubts. June argued, “the sooner we do something, the better. He’s been harmless, if creepy, but who knows when he might decided to get a little more aggressive when one of us is alone. Besides,” she grinned, “I’m itching to get my hands on him. It might be fun to teach him a lesson. Susan finally agreed and prepared to “leave” the house to inaugurate the plan. “So long, I’ll be back in a few hours,” she called out, loud enough for the man to hear from the rear of the house, as she picked up her purse and strode towards the front door. “Good night, Susan. I’ll do a few chores around here before going to bed,” June answered. She took a long, leisurely stretch on the couch, knowing it provided a good show for her prey. After languishing a few more minutes on the couch, she arose and began to clean up the room, picking up magazines and straightening furniture. She knew the stooping and bending would be appreciated by him. She pretended dissatisfaction with the position of the couch, and gave it a few tugs, but could not move it to where she wanted. She sighed, then strode rapidly toward the back door, apparently to get something from the rear of the house. She saw the face disappear quickly and knew he was fleeing. But she reached the back door and flipped on the switch to light up the backyard a few seconds later. As she stepped through the door she pretended to notice him for the first time. He had had time only to get several strides away from the house. As June let out a little “oh,” he stopped in confusion, realizing that he was close enough to be recognized and that his nocturnal peeping might be spoiled because of it. He turned and faced her, trying to regain his composure, and said, “Hello, I was just cutting through your back lawn to save some steps on the way home. I’m sorry if I scared you.” “That’s okay,” June said breezily, “anytime.” She was sizing him up, and saw a light-haired man, probably in his mid- twenties, of about average size. He was smiling at her, but his whole demeanor was one of deceitfulness. She disliked him more than ever. “Say, if you’re not in too much of a hurry, could I borrow your muscles for a few minutes?” she quickly asked. “I want to move a couch and can’t by myself. I was going to get a crowbar or something from the garage, but I’m sure you’ll do a better job.” She accompanied her request with a dazzling smile, one few men could resist. “Uh, well, I just…” he stammered, but June cut in. “Oh, it will only take a minute. Pleased,” she coaxed. “Okay,” he agreed, “if you’re really in need of help.” He followed her into the house and in a few minutes had the couch where she wanted it. “Why, thank you very much,” she said. “Say, I don’t even know your name.” “Jim. Jim Weston,” he replied. “Well, thank you, Jim. It was very kind of you. Now perhaps I can repay you with a kiss.” She moved close to him as he stood before the couch. Before he could say anything, she put her arms around him and gave him a long, vigorous kiss. Her hands roamed over his body, and she ascertained that he was not particularly muscular. Just average. She ended the kiss and grasped his shoulders. “Mmm, that was delicious,” she said. “Shall we try some more?” Without waiting for a reply, she embraced him again, only this time she leaned her full weight against him and made him stumble backwards onto the couch, her body atop his. Jim was thoroughly mystified by her aggressiveness. Never had such a beautiful, desirable woman thrown herself at him with such abandon, and he wondered what had possessed her. His first thought was that it might be related to his peeping activities, yet the girl had given no sign of doubt when he had explained his presence in the backyard. What, then? He had little time to think about the reasons, for June was forcing his attention elsewhere. Her tongue was exploring his mouth, and her hands were roaming over his body again. She could feel his initial stiffness and uncertainty melt under her expert ministrations. He was apparently, and understandably, beginning to enjoy it. His arms went about her and began to explore her body. She overcame her feeling of disgust at having him handle her this way by thinking of how short his pleasure would be. As soon as she felt that his hands were busy on her and that his attention was fixed thoroughly on the pleasure of the moment, June started to work. She kept one arm about him while she sneaked one hand down to his waist to undo the clasp on his trousers and ease his zipper open. Now the more difficult task of working his trousers over his hips. To accomplish this, she began to move and toss about, ostensibly to add variety to their necking. This made Jim move too, and every time he raised a hip she gave a slight tug on that side of his trousers. But by the time she had his trousers pulled halfway down his thighs, he noticed what she was doing. “Hey, what are you up to?” he yelled, pushing her off him and grabbing at his pants. June knew her curves no longer were effective, but, feeling confident of a victory, she grabbed at his trousers and said angrily, “Just a little reverse panty raid, Mister. You like to steal our clothes, so we’re about to steal yours. Come on, Susan, let’s get him.” Horrified, Jim struck out angrily at her and clipped her chin, tumbling her off the couch and onto the floor. The blow hurt, and June knew he would not hesitate to hit either girl, hard, to prevent his capture. “Quick, Susan,” she cried, as he hurriedly arose, pulled up his pants and fastened the clasp. Susan rushed from the bedroom, where she had been hiding, and jumped Jim from behind, throwing one arm around his neck and grabbing his hair with the other hand. He started throwing elbows violently. One caught Susan in the stomach, and she sagged to the floor. Temporarily free, Jim started running to the back door and freedom. But June, still on her back from his shove, stuck out a foot and tripped him, sending him sprawling on his stomach. Both Jim and June scrambled to their feet and raced each other to the door. Jim reached it first, but as he turned the knob June stopped him by grabbing the top of his trousers in the middle of his back with both hands. “Whoa!” she said. “You’re not going to get away now!” To his amazement, Jim could not pull her off him. He could not believe this lovely creature was strong enough to hold him. He was further amazed when she planted one foot against the side of the doorframe and began straightening her leg. He was pulled away from the door, and he heard the clasp of his trousers break from the tension. He reached down to redo it, and June took advantage of this to reach down and grab both of his cuffs. She jerked up and his feet flew out form under him. He tumbled to the floor, rolling onto his back before he could stop his momentum. June crouched over him like a tiger and noticed that her last tug had pulled his trousers down halfway on his thighs. With a gleam in her eye she slammed a high heel to the floor in the space between his crotch and the top of his trousers, then knelt to place one knee on his stomach as she tried to wiggle her let through the opening between his thighs, to that he could not pull his trousers up. Jim tried to rise, but June caught his chin with the heel of her hand and jolted his head back. He was knocked flat on his back, and his head rang as it struck the floor hard. This took the fight out of him for a few seconds, and a look of panic spread across his face as he now realized that he was going to lose the battle. This lovely, exotic creature atop him, whose name he did not know but whom he had admired and watched secretly for weeks now, seemed determined not to let him get away. She was a strong, efficient, deadly foe. As she shifted position so that she sat with her full weight bearing down on his hips and thighs, she laughed, “Now, you sneak, we have you where we want you. Let’s see how much fight you have without your pants!” Jim tried to toss this devilish creature off, but she was so firmly seated that he could hardly budge her. She pinched and tickled him until he gave up and ceased struggling for a moment. By this time Susan had regained her breath and was eager to get even with Jim. She now stood over his head, and June said to her, “Good, girl, back to the battle. I’ve got him under control. You sit on him up there and I’ll remove his pants.” “Only glad to!” Susan said. Looking up, Jim saw another girl with fire in her eye. She wasn’t as big as the vixen pinning his hips, but she seemed as determined. With a cry of delight she said, “I have just the way to do it, June. Since he likes my panties so much, I’ll give him a first-hand view of the pair I have on!” She hitched up her skirt and, with a rustle of silk and nylon, began to sit down on his face. Jim started to yell and raised his hands to ward her off, but she grabbed his wrists and sat hard on his face. His protests were cut off, and his vision blocked as he was squashed by a pair of silk panties and surrounded by a jungle of nylon, skirt and negligee. He could hardly move or breathe, and Susan added to his discomfort by bouncing up and down a few times. “Beautiful, beautiful!” June said. “How appropriate!” Jim could feel her shift her position and start to remove his trousers. He bucked desperately, but got nowhere. Nearly 250 pounds of shapely but surprisingly strong womanhood was seated strategically atop him, and he didn’t have a chance. The girl on his head was only of average size, but she knew how to pinch and claw and pull at his hands and fingers so that he could not get a good hold on her. And every place he did grab seemed to be covered by slippery nylon or fragile undergarments that frustrated him further. The girl on his hips knew exactly how to use her weight to prevent him from kicking. June now had his trousers at his ankles and pulled them off his feet after removing his shoes and socks. “To the victors belong the spoils!” she shouted, as she held his trousers aloft triumphantly. “Three cheers for us,” Susan added. They then teamed up to remove his shirt. He was now wearing only his shorts, and Jim felt June grasp the top of them. With a wink she asked Susan, “Shall we remove these, too?” Susan answered shyly, “Let’s let him keep them awhile. Maybe later we’ll find it necessary to take them off.” She then rose from her seat on his face. Jim let out a double sight of relief, but June quickly moved up to straddle his chest. She was not laughing now. As Susan gathered up his clothes, June said firmly, “Now, Mr. Weston, let’s have some explanations as to why you’ve been peeping on us and stealing our clothes.” He looked exceedingly embarrassed, and when he did not reply for several seconds, June grabbed his shorts and said menacingly, “Talk!” “I didn’t mean any harm,” Jim stuttered. “You’re both so attractive, I just couldn’t help watching. And I was afraid you’d turn me down if I asked you for a date.” “You’re right there!” June responded. “Neither of us can stand creeps. But why steal our nylons and panties?” Jim was really sweating as he answered, “I just considered you had the best pair of legs I’d ever seen, and she had such a beautiful figure, I wanted something to remind me of them.” “How disgusting!” said Susan, who had, unnoticed by Jim, locked the doors so he couldn’t run out. “I agree,” said June, “now what to do with this…thing?” “Please, please, let me go!” Jim begged desperately. “I won’t bother you again. I won’t peep, I won’t take your things. Please, I was only admiring your figures.” His pleas were so fervent and appeared so sincere, that both girls started to soften. As he continued to beg, they looked at each other and decided that perhaps they had taught him enough of a lesson. Much as she would like to continue, June thought that he had, in his perverse way, paid them a compliment. “Okay, you can go, if you promise not to bother us again,” she said as she arose from him, “but don’t ever let us see or catch you around here again!” Jim got up slowly, gathered up his clothes in his arms, and then walked to the rear door. He paused there, turned, and the fury that had built up inside him as the girls had taken him down and taken off his clothes exploded as he said, “You can be sure I’ll never be around here again, you devils!” THen, as the girls listened in amazement, he started calling them names that brought blushes to their faces. Their amazement turned to fury, and they started walking toward him. He grabbed the doorknob and said, “You’ll never catch me! I know my way through the backyard, even in the dark!” He pulled he knob, but nothing happened. He pulled again, and it still did not budge. Frantically he jerked as the girls closed in. “Don’t bother, buster, it’s locked!” June said. “Now you’ll really get what you deserve!” He whirled to find two grinning girls. He dashed between them for the front door, but found it locked too. He turned and found himself being stalked like jungle prey by two tigers in high heels. He dropped his clothes and started moving frantically so they could not corner him. And he looked desperately for a route of escape. “What’s the matter?” June cooed. “Afraid of a couple of girls? Why you’re bigger than either of us.” Jim saw a door and ,hoping it led to the outside, opened it and dashed through. A peal of laughter arose from both girls, and too late he realized he had entered one of the girls’ bedrooms. They chased him inside, then June shut the door, locked it, and said, “Now I’ve got you in my room. And you’ll wish you never saw it before I’m through!” Seeking any out he could, he said, “That’s not fair, two against one! You wouldn’t be so brave alone!” June replied, “We’re not interested in being fair to you. Only in fixing your little red wagon and your vile tongue. But, if you insist, I’m very happy to take you on - alone!” She began unzipping her dress,and as she stepped out of it, Jim realized why she was so strong. Her attire of a brief, sexy bra and panties revealed a flat, firm stomach, strong muscles along her thighs, and a well-built pair of shoulders. She was as solid as a rock, and incredibly curved. “Susan,” she said, “Get a pair of nylons out of the dresser. Since he likes mine so much, I’ll use a pair to tie him up!” Jim eyed Susan as she went to the dresser and wailed, “Tie me up? What are you going to do?” June said confidently, “I’m going to take you down and tie and gag you so you won’t be able to move a muscle. Then we’ll decide what to do next.” She was confident that he was so confused and scared, she could handle him fairly easily now. As he backed away from her, she mocked, “Afraid of even one girl, big boy?” He tried to break by her, but she grabbed a hand, sat back on the nearby bed, braced one foot against the bedboard at the foot of the bed, and began pulling. Jim saw the muscles along her leg bulge as she straightened her leg. Though he tried to pull away, her let was too strong for him, and he felt himself being pulled steadily toward her. “C’mon to bed with me,” June taunted, “there are a few things I want to try with you!” With one big, final push of her leg she tumbled him into bed beside her. Before he could recover she was all over him. She pinched him cruelly in the ribs, jerked his hair hard, twisted an earlobe, then smashed a knee into his stomach to double him over. She pushed him onto his stomach and jumped astraddle his back, then snaked an arm around his neck and applied a tight stranglehold. He tried to roll her off, but she rode him expertly. She squeezed hard for several seconds, and when she let go his head bobbed limply. “Give me a nylon,” she ordered Susan, and while Jim tried to regain his breath she turned around and sat on the back of his legs as she deftly wound a nylon around his ankles and tied a knot. His legs were now immobilized. “Now, let’s tie those arms behind his back,” she said, as she again straddled his back. She reached for his hands, but in desperation he clutched them together under his body. June only laughed at this futile move and said, “That won’t stop me!” She reached under, grabbed one of his little fingers and began to bend it back. “You bitch!” Jim cried, as pain shot through his entire arm. Her bending made him release his hold, and June dragged his arm from under him and twisted it behind his back. She took the other nylon from Susan and wrapped it around his wrist, then moved a knee up to pin his wrist against his back. Then she reached under and extracted his other arm by the same grip on the little finger, pulled it behind his back, and knotted the wrists together. Jim started to sob at being so manhandled, and June said, “Why, our big man is crying like a baby! And I’ve hardly started. I think we must wash out his mouth with soap for those names he called us, Susan!” Susan replied, “You bet! I’ll get the soap.” By the time she returned with a bar o soap, June had rolled Jim onto his back and was kneeling at the back of his head, facing him, a knee at each side of his head. She took the soap and ordered, “Open up.” But Jim clamped his mouth shut. “That’s no trouble either,” June said as she clamped his nostrils shut with one hand. As his supply of air faded, Jim shook his head violently, but her knees restricted his movement. He was finally forced to gulp for air, and June shoved the bar of soap in. He tried to spit it out, but she held a hand over his mouth. The soap taste filled his mouth and made him choke and gasp violently, as the girls laughed. It seemed like an hour before June removed her hand and he could hobble to the bathroom and spit out the soap. They even held a glass of water for him to rinse out his mouth, and bubbles cane once again. But his trial was not yet over, for June then jammed a pair of rubber falsies into his mouth and secured them there by a bright red silk scarf, which she knotted behind his head. Now he was both bound and gagged with the type of feminine articles that he coveted so secretly. June and Susan gazed down in triumphant satisfaction at their helpless, miserable victim. “Lovely job, don’t you think?” Susan asked. Next Susan returned with her camera and flash unit. Jim tried to roll off the bed to escape this final humiliation, but June took a firm grip on his two ears and twisted him back onto the pillow as one bulldogs a steer. Then she plopped her firm and shapely buttocks, clad in their lacy black panties, fully on his chest, adding to his discomfort in having his nylon-bound arms beneath the weight of his body by putting her own full weight on it. She raised her clenched fists up and outward in the traditional pose of the victor, causing her lovely, full breasts to jut out over her foaming, gagged prey like a canopy. “Smile for the camera, you helpless, woman-whipped sissy!” she said, turning her head for a pose. “We’ll make several copies of these, Jim Weston, and keep them handy to post on you company bulletin board or publish in the plant newspaper if you ever bother us once we release you or don’t do exactly as we say. There’s a lot of information about you in your wallet identification cards.” Gagged as he was, all that the poor man could do was register an expression of fear and shake his head to let them know how completely he was at their mercy. “Maybe by now Mr. Weston would like to apologize to us, ” Susan suggested. She took the gag off and untied him. Dry-mouthed and rueful, the sore-muscled, exhausted man could only lie there gasping. “You’ve had us living a life of terror for a long time now, uncertain when the peeping tom would show up again or strike or steal something of ours or maybe hurt us. Now you can know a little of what it’s like!” “I’ll try to do whatever you say,” he said cringing. “Good!” Susan cut in. “Now go outside and get your things on. Then stick this pair of nylons we had you all bound with in your pocked so that the tops and feet show fully and prominently. We want everyone you pass to notice them. And don’t put them all the way into your pocked until you get home!” Scarlet with embarrassment, the man in the panties with the lipsticked mouth went into the yard and got dressed. He was careful to arrange the nylons as they had ordered in his breast pocket and walked away. The dangling nylons seemed a flag of victory to the girls, and they grinned with pride as their victim slouched home with his tail between his legs, or his nylons hanging, as it were.

Queens of pain and pleasures

     There was once a mistress named Cynthia. She was a gorgeous physical specimen: 5′11″, long brown hair, blue eyes, 135 pounds, 36-24-36 measurements and a dominant sensuality that controlled the male or female she that desired. She was skilled in using whips, chains, and other tools of dominance. She exuded strength and control; there were no weaknesses in her manner and nature which could be used to control her. She had built her personality by submitting herself to other mistresses, who would administer pain and torment without mercy. Cynthia, after much practice, would never crack, no matter how intense the pain was or how strong the binds were. Indeed, Cynthia was in control Until Lynn moved in next door. At first sight, Lynn was anything but dominant: 5′1″ tall, long blond hair and blue eyes, 95 pounds. She looked like a promising slave, with her slight build and gentle, little girl voice, which belied her 22 years of age. Being a good neighbor, Cynthia invited the petite blond over for an introductory chat. The mistress offered Cynthia a drinkIAnd anotherI And another. The effect of the imbibing would be to loosen Lynn’s tongue and thoughts. “You know, Cynthia,” said an inebriated Lynn, “moving in was such a pain. My back is killing me. Cynthia sensed her opportunity. “Lynn,” she replied, “why don’t you have your boyfriend rub your back?” Lynn looked at her. “hyly, she confessed that “oh, I’m not seeing anyone right now. I’m rather bummed out on guys.” Lynn flashed her soft blue eyes, flirting with Cynthia. With that, as if a signal had been sent and answered, Cynthia sat down beside Lynn and started to gently kiss her neck. Lynn melted into her arms, and soon Cynthia was massaging her back and neck. Lynn soon fell into a deep, restful sleep, as Cynthia held her close. The next morning, Lynn awoke to a shock. “he tried crawling out of bed, but found that she had been tied to the bed, spread eagle. Her nude body squirmed against the ropes. “Well, I packaged you quite well!” Exclaimed Cynthia. “I know that you are a bi-now let’s see if you can play the part of a slave!” The amazon had several straps in her hands, and wanted to build up the tension in Lynn by gently caressing her body with the tips of the straps. However, this produced a most unusual reaction, which changed Cynthia’s game plan. As the tips of the straps lightly danced over the backs of her legs, she began to squirm helplessly and laugh. “St-t-top that!” Cried Lynn, “it t-tickles!” With that, Cynthia started to poke and jab at her rib cage and underarms. Lynn bucked violently, screaming for mercy. “Stop-you c-crazy b-bitch! I c-can’t stand to b-be tickled!!!” Shrieked Lynn. However, Cynthia was relentless and kept the blond beauty laughing for 2 hours, when Lynn finally passed out from exhaustion. Cynthia let Lynn sleep for a few minutes, then untied her. Lynn woke up moments later. Lynn’s eyes opened wide and she was furious. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? How would you like it if I did that to you?” Lynn screamed. Cynthia had a ready answer. “My dear, I didn’t get to my position in life by being a sissy like you. I have been in the submissive role before, under whips and chains, and have come through admirably, even asking for more!” Lynn then issued a challenge. “OK, tough bitch, why not let me have a crack at you? You brag about your endurance to pain, so let’s see you prove it! Give me two hours, the same amount of time you were torturing me, and you’ll be ready to do anything for me!” Cynthia stood proud, confidant, and she laughed back at her. “My dear,” replied the Amazon, “I’ve have lasted for days in bondage. Whips, sensory deprivation Try anything you wish!” Cynthia then led Lynn to the torture room. Lynn had Cynthia lie down on the floor. Cynthia’s wrists were bound by handcuffs attached to the wall. Lynn then placed her feet in stocks. The blond found herself attracted to Cynthia feet. They were beautiful: size 10, with long slender toes, and well kept, with no callouses or corns. Lynn looked at Cynthia and admired her handywork; this was her first time as a dom and she wanted it to be successful. Lynn ignored the whips and other instruments of torture around her, and slowly ran her long fingernails over the soles of Cynthia’s feet. The pair of size 10’s began to wiggle and squirm as Cynthia bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh. “You think tickling me will break me? You’re in for a surprise! I can take whips and other pain for days! This will be easy!” Snarled Cynthia. However, Cynthia’s show of confidence didn’t impress Lynn. Lynn saw Cynthia’s feet squirm under the stimulation from Lynn’s fingertips. Now, it was time to keep those feet still. Lynn hammered in nails on each side of each foot, right next to the big and little toes. With a string, she would tie her big and little toes to the nails, spreading the toes apart and completely immobilizing Cynthia’s size tens. “Now, bitch,” exclaimed Lynn, “LAUGH!” Lynn again began to scrape her long fingernails all over the sensitive soles of Cynthia’s feet. Again, Cynthia bit her lips, struggling to maintain her composure. Cynthia was so determined, yet Lynn was so relentless, using a small paint brush between the Amazons toes. This caused Cynthia to buck violently against the bondage. On and on it went for twenty minutesI30 minutesI35 minutes. Then, the tingling, teasing, tantalizing sensations which engulfed her feet became so overpowering the Cynthia burst into helpless giggles. “Hee hee, ha ha! That t-t-tickles! Go ahead-k-k-keep it up! You’ll n-never b-b-break me!” Stammered Cynthia, as Lynn kept stimulating the soft skin on Cynthia’s soles. One hour had now passed, and Cynthia was showing signs of weakness, as Lynn took a ball point pen and started drawing all over her soles. “Tee hee, ha hahahhahaha! Oh G-god, that’s d-driving m-m-me c-c-crazy! My f-f-feet are s-s-so sensitive!” Cried Cynthia, as tear began to stream down her cheeks. Lynn napped back, “OK, bitch ready to give?” As Lynn used the pen, the pressure of the ball point on Cynthia’s feet stimulated the soft, sensitive skin on her soles, driving Cynthia to tears. “OH, GOD, YOU’RE DRIVING ME-HEHEHEHEHE!-C-C-CRAZYY!!!” She screamed through her hysterical laughter. Lynn shot back, “Oh, have you had enough? I’ll stop, if you’re going to be too much of a sissy!” Cynthia’s pride got the better of her though; she had survived for 75 minutes; 45 more and she would be free. Her tortured reply was, “NO-POUR IT ON! NO TRAMP WITH A TICKLE FETISH IS GOING TO BREAK ME!” “Very well,” replied Lynn. “Now that your feet are filthy with ink, it’s time to clean them off!” With that, Lynn produced a bucket of soapy water and a small toothbrush. Cynthia’s eyes opened wide, as Lynn dipped the small brush in the water, then begin to slowly scrub her left heel in torturous, circular motions. Cynthia’s long legs began to quiver; her breasts began to bounce up and down. The endless stimulation of the thousands of tiny bristles on her feet were too much to bear. Cynthia exploded in an anguished scream of forced laughter. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHH, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH, HAHA HAHAHAHAHAHA TEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEI” The amazon sounded as if she was in agony, as her hysterics filled the room. “C-C-CAN’T BREATHE- M-MY SIDES-TH-TH-THEY’RE GONNA EXPLODE!! OK OK, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEASSE STOP NOWWWW WWWW! I GIVE, I GIVE, WHAT DO YOU WANT, I’LL DO ANYTHING! MY FEET ARE TOO TICKLISH! STOP, LYNN, PLEASE!!!!!” Submitted Cynthia. Satisfied, Lynn stopped. She looked at the clock; the Amazon had cracked after one hour and 20 minutes. Lynn sat down beside her, caressing Cynthia’s breasts. “Well, you aren’t as tough as you say you are! Why, you’re a like a littly sissy teenager!” Lynn scowled. “Just wait till I tell your slaves!” A look of terror filled Cynthia’s eyes. “NO, please don’t tell anyone! I’ll be ruined!” She begged. The trap had been set. Lynn looked down at the beaten Amazon and layed down the law. “OK, I’ll keep quiet, but you must meet the following conditions,” stated Lynn. “First, you’re feet are still covered with ink. Will you submit to getting them cleaned with the toothbrush, until they are cleaned to my satisfaction?” Cynthia, anxious to get out of this mess, replied, “Oh, yes Lynn, as you wish!” Lynn smiled. “There is just one more thing you must do in order to keep my lips sealed. You must allow me to tickle your feet every day, without fail. This will include working on your endurance. You must endure 2 hours of foot tickling every day from me, until you are able to not just survive two hours, but beg for more and more!” Cynthia screamed, “Never!! I’ll die!” Lynn then picked up a little blank book sitting on a table and looked at the contents. “Hmmm..It seems this is a list of your slaves! Suppose I just call one of them up and have them listen while I clean your feet?”, suggested Lynn. “OK, OK YOU WIN!” Shrieked a terrified Cynthia. “Please keep quiet! I’ll submit to your foot tickling every day! With a satisfied smile, Lynn completed a one hour clean up of Cynthia’s tormented feet. Once the ordeal was over, Lynn “treated” a still bound Cynthia to a pedicure, making certain to use a pumice stone to soften what few rough spots were present on the Amazon’s feet, finishing off by painting her toenails pastel pink. Lynn then ordered the newly ordered slave to report for her first tickle session at midnight the next evening. Somehow, Lynn knew Cynthia wouldn’t dare miss the appointment

Queens of pain and pleasures

     This was a strange encounter which led to a number of matches between us. I was at a convention in Washington, D.C., running the booth in the exhibit hall of the Hilton Hotel for my company, when this striking-looking woman came over and leaned on the registration desk in front of our display. She had a wide smile on her oval face as she started to talk to me. I liked her looks right away - tall, 5′10″, 160 well-distributed pounds on a 36D-23-37 body (I found out later). Strong and sexy. She signed our address card for materials to be mailed to her, after which I invited her to sit beside me while we talked about our products - and a lot of other things. Since this was the third of a six-day convention, I was surprised that anyone would stop to chat so long. But after seeing her tight-fitting jeans and bright, printed blouse with boots on her feet, I became more interested in her body than in her as a potential customer. Since it was noon and traffic by the booth was slow, I asked her if she wanted a hot dog and beer at the concession stand at the end of the booth row. “Sure,” she said, so we walked to get a bit to eat. I liked watching her move, self-confident, almost a swagger, as she swung her hips as she strode beside me. Tough Tina was open and very friendly, and said she had noticed me several times as she went down the row of exhibits, but that I was always busy talking to other folks until just now. I tried to return the compliment, but really had not noticed her before, so I offered to take her for a drink and dinner after show closed at 5 PM. She agreed - almost too eagerly, but I was delighted! Tough Tina leaned over and felt my upper arm, and said I had strong muscles. Not to be outdone, I massaged her thigh through the jeans material and commented on the strength I felt there. “That’s ’cause I’m into sports,” Tough Tina said. “Oh, what kind?” I asked, thinking she would say running or softball or the like. “I like to wrestle,” she responded, without a blink. My cock got hard on the spot - I love wrestling women. Maybe she would be my next opponent! “You mean like girls, I suppose,” I remember saying, almost holding my breath for her answer. “Not men, of course?” “Yeah, girls and man,” Tough Tina replied, dropping her hand to my thigh - just short of my engorged dick. “Maybe you and I could wrestle after dinner. Do you wrestle?” she asked. “I sure do. I’m always looking for women wrestlers,” I explained. “Thought so, from the looks of you,” Tough Tina replied with a wink. “I’m bigger than you,” I said. “We are about the same height, but I bet I outweigh you by thirty pounds. I’m 168 pounds and older too - I’m 40 years old,” I explained. “You’re just eight pounds more ‘en me, and tonight is my thirty-first birthday, so we are both well matched - think ya can take this ol’ lady down?” “Happy BIrthday, Tough Tina - I hope you can rassle as well as you look. We must celebrate your birthday - where is your husband?” I asked, holding my breath, now that the challenge had been made and accepted. “Gone. Divorced eight years - he couldn’t wrestle worth beans,” this charming sexy woman said, as she leaned over to blow in my ear! “Keep that up and I’ll pin you ass to the floor right here and rape ya,” I said. “You won’t rape me OR pin me - but if you can make me ‘give’ you can have me. How about that?” How about that - now I wanted to wrestle Tough Tina for sure! So it was agreed we would have a night out partying and rasslin’! We ate medium-rare steaks, washed down with wine and a couple of screwdrivers at the Dupont, where Tough Tina was staying. She was easy to talk to, and I enjoyed our double-talk about fighting and screwing very much. We sat close, and while we waited for the dessert cart, I folded her into my arms for a deep throat kiss, which made her struggle against me, tits melting into my chest as I massaged her back down to her buns. We were both hot to get it on after supper. After paying the bill, we then went up to her room. She had a suite. One room had a king- sized bed, a second room chairs and a coffee table. We moved the furniture until we had a space about 16′ by 16′ to fight. Sheets and blankets were spread to save us from mat burns, and of course we agreed that we couldn’t use most flying holds or such basic throws as overhead body slams. So we agreed to confine our moves mainly to the slams and other easy throws for take-downs. But all holds were legal on the mat, the harder and tougher the better she liked it, Tough Tina said. That gave me clear rein to work her over with my best mat holds. I thought. Room service brought us drinks and snacks - “for later,” Tough Tina said, then she excused herself to go change. I always wear spandex short trunks when I am on the prowl for a woman wrestler, so it was simple for me to drop my pants, coat, shirt, tie and then undershirt, shoes and socks off, and I was ready to take this older woman down. The age difference really made me excited for some reason. She looked so damn strong and capable! A woman who liked to rassle men! I felt lucky to have found her, and I was in for a real fight! Tough Tina came out dressed to do battle! I damn near dropped my teeth! Her tits and ass were covered with a two-piece suit in front, which became a wide strap in back. She slowly turned for my pleasure, and I saw that the suit came to a strap as it passed between her legs, allowing her buttocks open range as it widened above the firm, round globes, then parting to become straps over her shoulders, which I wanted to maul so very much, cutting away sharply to show most of her belly, navel winking at me, an inner’ “come and get me” and ending in the small triangle covering her vagina. Her brown pubic hair was stiff and stood out around the suit bottom at her crotch, looking so sexy I wanted to get into her first and then wrestle. Tough Tina had several streaks of gay in her hair, but the dark brown meant to me that she was far from being over the hill in the age department. The softness of the hair color seemed to make her all the more desirable as a wrestling opponent. Her fingernails were short; pink polish on finger and toenails lent an air of charm and sophistication to the battle we were about to begin. She was all woman, and a wrestler besides! All I had to do was pin her! It was her skin that really surprised me. I expected a gal this old to have skin like dead parchment. Hers was golden brown clear to the iron triangle of her muff - she sun-bathed every day, she told me later, swam and worked out at the gym to stay in shape. And wrestled every chance she got to get on the mat. But her tits were the fantastic showpiece. The bra was a cover, not holder, for them, and they swayed back and forth beautifully as Tough Tina moved. The were POINTED, not drooping as one would expect; big, firm melons ready to be fondled, sucked and worked over on the mat or in bed. She was damp from a quick shower, and I knew she would smell good all over - even if she got my head between her legs in a crotch-smothering scissors, a hold I love to be in. “God, you’re lovely,” I exclaimed. “Are you sure you wanna rassle?” “What’s the matter, chicken-shit - scared I’ll beat you up?” Tough Tina smirked, as she moved toward me. “I’m glad you came by the booth, Tough Tina,” was all I could think to say as I started to drool as she did a small dance for me, increasing my hardon. “But why ME - how come you wanna rassle ME?” I questioned. “I’m delighted, if you didn’t know!” “Ever since I was a small girl I loved to wrestle. I was sent to a boarding school by my folks when I was little - third grade, it was; then on to private schools till I finished college, majoring in physical education. I wrestled girls, but usually I beat them so bad and so fast that they were seldom a challenge for me. I thought of being a professional wrestler, but the idea of travelling every day or so, sleazy motels, and ‘putting out’ for agents didn’t appeal to me. So I teach PE at my college and look for MEN to wrestle. I have lots of time off, all summer if I want, and lots of week- vacations and conventions where I can do my best out-of-town hunting. I love to make men submit to my holds on the mat - you’re gonna’ do it too, lover boy.” “Son-of-a-gun, that’s what I do, too - look for women to wrestle for the pure fun of getting a gal in an inescapable hold, then throwing the meat to her,” I said. We laughed at then, then turned toward each other ready for the first fall. No rules, just wrestle until one or the other of us was forced to submit to some painful submission hold. Tough Tina was really into wrestling, I could tell. “Don’t worry if the top comes off - that will make getting at my breasts easier for you, “Tough Tina grinned as she advanced across the sheet-covered carpet, hands outstretched, crouched sideways in a standard wrestler’s position. “Oh, they will get uncovered - very soon, since I’m a tit man as well as a rassler,” I responded, leaping at her and getting her in a hangman’s noose from the rear. I lifted her up off her feet and felt the woman struggle as I tightened the hold, then dropped to my knees, taking her over my head to land on her knees. I shifted to her back then, both hands going for her tits, shoving the covering off them and giving each one a hard squeeze. Then as she fell forward on her belly, I clamped on a full nelson. Tough Tina was in trouble and knew it - “You DO know how to rassle, don’t ya?” she said through clenched teeth, as I tightened the nelson around her neck. “Yeah, better than you, bitch,” I whispered in her ears I tightened the hold. Then I made a mistake, two actually. Telling her I was better at wrestling was a dumb thing to say, because it made her pissed at me. I tried to grapevine her legs for a quick combination submission. I missed her legs - Tough Tina rolled me off her back and punched my belly, making me lose the nelson, as she powered her arms down, and suddenly she was free! The woman wrestler was on her knees facing me as I moved into a like position. Then we really started to wrestle each other; I punched her tits, she dropped onto me, applying a reverse nelson. I shoved her off, hitting her with a shoulder block, and got a side headlock in return. On our feet I gave her a spinning back kick, which she followed with a knee lift that sent me crashing to the floor. I rolled up, taking Tough Tina in an armdrag takedown, changing to a crucifix and poured on the pressure. She gave me the first fall, but it had been a rough one, lasting about half an hour. We had a beer and rested a few minutes. The the “old lady” surprised me with a snap mare, following me down to clamp on a single Boston crab on my leg, and pulled till I was sure she would snap my spine! I twisted and kicked at her, making her drop my leg, and I stood up. Mistake - Tough Tina was behind me, and clamped on a sleeper hold, which took us both slowly to the mat. Her arms were SO strong, I finally went out from the hold, and she brought me around with the traditional fist in the back. The fall went less than five minutes! Before we could rest, I grabbed her between the legs with one hand and around the neck with the other and tossed her to the floor with a solid body slam. One, two, three times I dropped this fighting machine, then dropped my elbow into her belly as I splashed her. She tried for a crotch kick, which missed but landed on my leg with painful force. I went for a front headlock, held her by the head with one arm, pulling her up over my outstretched knee, second arm between her now-damp legs in a backbreaker. My hard-on was back as I felt her body shake as I fondled her groin while pulling down on her head, knowing the agony she was feeling from the stretch of her body over my knee. It felt good to have her helpless, and I allowed my hand to wander between her legs. Tough Tina groaned from the solid hold and also from something else - she was getting off on my fingering her pussy! She screamed then from the feelings I was giving her. I pushed her off my knee onto her belly, jumped her body applying a camel clutch to her chin and finished her with a double leg grapevine, stretching her as far as I could while she moaned and finally grunted out, “I give, bastard!” as I worked the holds. We rested, had a bite to eat and more booze than I care to remember. Still Tough Tina wanted to rassle - and I just couldn’t say no! I didn’t want to ruin her image of herself as a female wrestler, but I was determined to punch her card for her at least. We agreed to start in the referee’s position the next fall. Tough Tina was on top, and when she said “go” she took me in a solid hammerlock, forcing me flat, then changing to an arm bar, then a brag as she wiggled me into a solid head scissors. I clamped a hand on one big tit, hoping to hurt her, but she seemed to enjoy my hold and increased the power of her scissors until I thought my head would crack. This was turning into a war between two very capable wrestlers. I punched her a couple of times and escaped her hold. Then I rolled over behind Tough Tina, catching her left arm and right leg and pulling them back in a well-executed bow and arrow, with my boot in the small of her back, just above her lovely ass as leverage. I poured on the pain, and Tough Tina had tears in her eyes before she submitted to me. Not satisfied, I dumped her on the floor as she started to stand, jumped her back as she began to roll, and applied a diamond drill-twist to her sore neck. I kept up the pain of the twist as I grabbed her arm, forcing it behind her back in a hammerlock. Up, up, up higher I pushed it until I was afraid I would damage her shoulder. Then I dropped the twist and pulled her other arm behind her, taking both in a surfboard. I stood then with one foot in the small of her back - about where I had it when she gave from the bow and arrow, and pulled until she submitted again. Submit, shit, she screamed and begged to be released! I was sorry she submitted, her jugs were about to split out of the top she almost was still wearing! It had been a hand-to-hand duel between two experienced wrestlers, a go- to-the-mat death struggle with plenty of suffering and not a little grab-ass on my part as well as Tough Tina’s. We agreed to quit then, shower and - well we spent the night together. Not much sleeping until the wee hours of the morning. I had booth duty at 11 AM that morning, so we awakened, wrestled some more, then had breakfast in the room. This schedule continued for three glorious days. We fought some 20 falls, I won 12, Tough Tina took me in eight. I discovered she had an effective cradle which made me submit when she could roll me up in it. Also she was expert with the Indian death lock, or figure-four leg strangle. She was fast, strong and hard-wrestling on the mat and a joy for me. My first “older woman” was indeed a champion wrestler! One day I asked her how, aside from early childhood, she loved to wrestle and be wrestled. Tough Tina said she liked the close physical feeling, the sensation of taking a man down and making him “give” to her. She also liked being pinned by a man, which I expect was the honest reason she was such a willing woman wrestler. I correspond with her on occasion, and she says she is older, but still a good wrestler. I hope to find out on a trip sometime soon! Tough Tina made a believer out of me - older is indeed better when it comes to women who wrestle men, at least for me

Mistress Anna humiliates her sissy slave and fucks him with strapon dildo

Sometimes I’ll slide a dildo inside myself, or strap it in with one of the harnesses that you can get to hold a dildo inside you, and not just one that’s meant for fucking someone else, and then take a drive along a bumpy road. It’s better if someone else is driving, so that you don’t have an accident. But what really gets me off is wearing my boyfriend’s boxer-briefs and strapping on two dildos. You can get a double-strap-on harness that has one place for a dildo that goes inside me, and one place for a dildo that sticks out. I get my boyfriend’s underwear on over that big stick-out dildo, let the dildo stick out the Y-front opening, pull on some jeans and a sweater, and just go for a drive. If I go to a neighboring town where no one knows me, I enjoy the looks I get as people try to figure out whether I’m a man with fake breasts and good makeup, or a woman wearing a BIG dildo. Then I get back in the car, unzip my jeans, let the dildo stick out, and jerk on it while I’m stopped at traffic lights. People see my arm moving and think I’m jerking off. And I am! Because every time I jerk on the dildo that’s sticking out, the one that’s up inside me is working away at my pussy. It’s even better when I get someone else to drive me along the freeway and give truckers an eyeful.
Anal Teen Tryouts

I was in the back seat of our car, my brother was driving, and my dad in the passenger seat. I had a golf ball with me, and by rolling it around my clit really quickly it gave me the best orgasm ever. They were none the wiser!
The cutest ebony girl railed hard

When driving home at night from the office in traffic that is not moving, I pull into a nearest shopping center parking lot and begin to rub myself. The feeling is so great that I strip out of my skirt, blouse, shoes, stockings, bra, and panties and really let myself go, knowing I may be seen or caught. I pinch, twist, and pull on my sensitive nipples while the other hand is rubbing and inserting a finger into my wet pussy until I explode.
Black Anal

I like to masturbate in the car while my boyfriend is driving. I suck his cock while he takes off my sexy little g-string. After that, I touch my clit, rubbing my hand in circles. Thinking that truckers might see my ass and my pussy while I masturbate makes me feel soo hot inside! Sometimes my boyfriend will ask me to take off everything, stark naked, and do it in front of him while he drives. He opens the window and lets the natural air and wind blow on me. I feel very excited and cold, like I was staying outside and laying under the moon. Then he stops his car by the roadside and opens all the doors and masturbates while watching me do the same. I imagine somebody is watching me digging in my wet pink pussy, wanting to lick it and fuck it.
BDSM - Ivy Manor

I like to watch porn all the while stroking my clit or rubbing my pussy on a pillow. I keep touching myself until I start to cum and then I stop. I do this until even when I stop rubbing, my body can’t stop cuming and I just lie back and let it happen.

I wear a skirt to work and on my way home I take off my panties and push them as far as I can into my pussy. Then I stop off at the store and buy some wine and a cucumber. When I turn into my driveway, I slowly pull my panties almost all the way out. Most of the time they fall out just when I get to the door. I pick them up and smell them, then I start fucking whatever I can find, like the vacuum handle, and then I end up on my bedpost with my juices running down my leg.

I love to masturbate anywhere, but one of the things I like doing is cumming while I’m driving on a long journey. I usually have a plastic bottle of water with me, and I stick it down into my pants and between my legs while I’m driving and hump it, making it all wet. I hump and hump and moan as loudly as I can, saying things like “fuck me, fuck me hard, go on, fuck me” and I hump that bottle until it makes me cum.

I like to masturbate while driving in my car, sometimes after work and sometimes on weekends, especially in the springtime. I start off my day by taking a hot shower and shaving my pussy so it’s very soft and smooth. Then I put on a short dress or skirt and go for a drive. I can’t keep my hands off myself as I drive down the interstate, and it is such a turn-on when any guy looks over and sees my hand down in my crotch. Sometimes I drive in city traffic and play with myself between stoplights. After about an hour or so, when I’m so worked up that I don’t care, I put my leg up on the seat or dashboard and make myself cum. Sometimes I can have 10 or 15 orgasms a day doing this, and I almost always have someone jockeying for position for a better view when I cum.

While I’m driving, I pull my cock and balls out and jerk off while the oncoming traffic watches. After I cum, I lick the cum off my hands in front of unsuspecting women.

I often take long car rides to commute from work to home, and I always get so bored. Last week I was particularly bored and horny so I decided to go ahead and rub on my clit while I was driving. It felt so good and I decided that I was just going to have to come, so I rubbed harder and faster, all while driving. I was driving in a low car and I got a thrill when I passed trucks because I knew that they could see me. Before long I was coming like crazy and trying to keep my car on the road.

I love to masturbate in front of my husband while we are driving down the interstate at night. He massages my shoulders, then works his way to my heaving, full tits. He removes my top, then I completely strip. I rub my tits and my clit. I take an empty beer bottle (long neck) and begin to fuck the bottle while I massage my clit. He turns the light on so he can see better and so the passing trucks can see as well. I make him pull over and let me masturbate on the interstate so the oncoming cars can see. Then I fuck his brains out.