David struggled with all his might, as if for his life. I was crushing him like a steamroller, the desperate efforts of my conquered opponent a thrill for the cheering crowd.
Submissive by nature, with an unfulfilled desire to be dominated, and attracted only to the most powerful of women, David had emailed “Dear Sheena,” requesting a session match in a worshipful tone. To his delight I responded to him, scheduling an exhibition show.
He was fit enough, but had never actually wrestled with an Olympic level international martial arts champion. A surge of excitement and fear overwhelmed his typical shyness and he immediately agreed.
And now that he was actually seeing all my solid hourglass shaped muscle in the flesh he feared for his life. There was obviously nothing I wouldn't be able to do with him!
Seeing the amusement on my face as we shared the raised stage, he exhibited a lump growing in his throat, a sick hollow feeling expanding up into his chest. He began understanding the true meaning of the word powerless.
I said “This is going to really hurt,” and hit David like a freight train, mercilessly tossing him across the ring with strong arms. After landing a series of punches with enough muscle behind them to stun a charging bull, I began lashing him with a chain of Judo throws, my favourite.
Time and again I took David's arm and pulled him to his feet, then swiftly flipped him sideways, making the ring thud with each backbreaking impact. He clearly felt that he was being crushed to powder, snapped to pieces, with pain in his eyes, and the beginnings of ecstasy.
Stunned from the flaring pain, he gasped as if darkness would finally fully embrace him. I sensed that unconsciousness was coming and dialed back the suffering. .
“Please, Sheena... please!”
“What? Stop?” I asked.
“No. Again. Again. Please don't hold back, no matter what I say, no mercy, please!”
Changing holds on him was easy, he was bendable to my every whim. I pried and twisted his firm arms behind his back hard, forcing each up to the nearest shoulder, flexing them not quite to the breaking point. He struggled all the while, but his strength was nothing compared to mine. He was in total bondage, not locked in by rope but by muscle!
I changed positions and scissored my densely muscled thighs around his throat, crushing like a vice and cutting off the blood supply. After just seconds, his arms stopped moving, a low gasping wail issued from deep in David's throat, and he broke down and sobbed like a child.
I began relaxing, then increasing the scissors hold, relinquishing and tightening. I could hear his tortured groans become entwined with ecstatic moans. He wanted the pain tormenting his body to end, and yet he never wanted it to stop.
Smiling into his shocked and perspiration soaked face, I rose and placed one foot on the side of David's head. Crushing downward with my thigh and calf, I slammed him into the floor. I brought up both of my arms and flexed hard, flaunting the full size and fury of my biceps in a pose of supremacy for the audience. And the whole throng of spectators in the room erupted into a chorus of cheers.
“Sheena! Sheena! Sheena! Sheena!”
Who is man enough to be the next? Are you?
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