On the desert planet of Dune, a windstorm blew grains of sand across the battlefield. A battalion of the evil Harkonnen dynasty watched in useless fury, howling as their best soldier was pummeled in hand to hand combat.
Oskron was a cunning, arrogant champion wrestler who delighted in humiliating his broken opponents. Yet like a red hot ingot beneath a sledgehammer, he was being pounded — by a woman!
She was a vision of a demigod, muscular beyond belief, voluptuous past description. Arms like thick bands of steel and legs like sharply defined stone pillars. Every part of her body increased the sculpted beauty of the whole. Here was a woman with no equal. Nor, as the hapless Oskron showed his fellow soldiers, could any man compare.
He took a slashing swing at his foe, trying to cut her apart with the spikes covering his metal gloves. Instead, at the last moment before impact, she executed a turning parry with one arm as she rammed a fist into his gut with the other. Before Oskron could finish gagging, the well-built brunette grabbed his hair with her parrying arm, yanking his head back as she stood. Without remorse she slammed her palm into his stomach, then his chest, and finally his throat. As the wrestling star choked for breath, she threw him by his scalp, sending him skidding across the sand.
"Strong... so fucking strong!" Oskron slowly rolled over, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. He painfully tried to stand up as his lungs burned. "I thought I had her. I thought-"
The Harkonnan platoon shouted for him to fight back, but his fight was in vain. As if she wanted to prove to the spectators her physical superiority over Oskron, she grasped his wrist in both hands, and with a quick burst of power hip tossed him. He landed with a crash sending waves of pain coursing through him.
He struggled to stand, and began to raise his hands to defend himself. All that did was allow her to wrap her arms around his waist and administer a punishing bearhug with a roar of dominance. His feet were off the sandy soil as her granite hard arms ground into his back, cruelly compressing his spinal cord. He croaked as he arched his back, squirmed and struggled. His legs kicked aimlessly while he tried to pull himself out of her grip. When he raised his hand to try and strike her face, she poured on extra pressure, and Oskron literally howled.
Now he wasn't just groggy, He was crying and trying to tap out as he felt organs and bones inside him grind against each other. The tears running down his cheeks weren't just out of pain, they were out of fear. He thought he was going to have his back broken, snapped in half by a bearhug while a crowd of his comrades and his best friends watched.
When he felt the pop, he screamed so hard his throat bled. Immediately, she dropped him and stood astride the crippled soldier, studying him with cold eyes. She then fell with her full body weight slamming on the groaning Oskron’s outstretched stomach. He bucked and spasmed with the impact, then lay still. Reaching down she crushed the protruding nipples of the broken man between her thumbs and forefingers, twisting and pulling until he snapped back to consciousness.
"PLEASE!! PLEASE!!" He shook his head wildly. "PLEASE!!" Oskron began to scream and plead for her to stop. For the first time ever, he was openly sobbing, begging for the mercy of an opponent.
The woman knelt there for several seconds, letting the moment set in, then shouted at the Harkonnen platoon.
“Surrender now, and he lives. Take what you have seen back to your camp, and warn your commander,” she called out. “I am Sheena! Remember my name.”
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