Adult Image Library 1/Adult_Image_Library_Volume_1.iso/stories/carol2.txt

Text File | 1996-04-15 | 12.5 KB | 239 lines

     Once again Jim found himself climbing the stairs to Carol's
27th Street apartment.  Several weeks ago he had attempted to
wrestle Carol, but only ended up submitting to painful holds -
the dreaded Boston crab, a combination body scissors/headlock
where Carol completely shut down his breathing, and a deadly
sleeper that sent him temporarily to dreamland.  Despite his poor
performance in Carol's clutches, Jim was thrilled with the
experience in retrospect.  His life-long fantasy of being
physically dominated and tortured by a beautiful woman had
certainly been realized in spades.  Jim had made a return
appointment with Carol on the spot, and today he was keeping that
date.
     The beautiful Carol greeted Jim warmly and ushered him into
the apartment, which was equipped with wrestling mats as before.
This time the six-foot blonde was dressed in a shiny spandex
"catsuit," which left little concerning her anatomy to the
imagination.  She was so luscious that Jim's palms seemed to itch
in his eagerness to get his hands on her.
     "You like?" she cooed, turning and showing off her body.  "I
just got this little number last week.  It's great for wrestling
- guys get so involved in looking at me that they forget what
we're doing.  Makes it real easy to trap'em!"
     Jim gulped, imagining how he would soon be trapped that way!
     "You know, Jim," added Carol, "you really didn't do very
well against me last time.  Were you really trying?"
     "I sure was!  You're just a damned good wrestler.  Anyway,
what excites me the most is being forced to submit to your holds.
I'm not really into defeating a woman - I enjoy being dominated."
     "Well, you've certainly come to the right place!  Like I
think I told you last time, I really get off on using my body to
make a man beg for mercy!  Tell you what - I'll stress really
punishing you today.  How's that?"
     "Sounds great!  Just don't kill me!"
     "What? And lose a good customer - No way!  What I will do,
though, is pour on the pressure until you say the magic word.
Let's use 'mercy' as a safe word.  Don't forget it!"
     "Got it!"
     "You know where to change, Jim.  Got my money?"
     Jim fished out the $175, a $25 "loser's discount" off last
time's fee, handed it over, and went into the bathroom to change.
     Meanwhile Carol set the timer for one hour and started it as
Jim re-entered the room.  "Same rules as last time?"
     "Sure," Jim replied and warily circled Carol in the middle
of the mat.
     Rather than the cautious circling she employed in their last
match, Carol immediately made an aggressive lunge for Jim's left
leg.  Catching him completely by surprise, her mid-calf hold
easily flipped him onto his back.
     Releasing Jim's leg, Carol rolled onto his chest and secured
a firm headlock.
     "Oh, no - not again," thought Jim, remembering their
previous match, as Carol painfully tightened the hold.
     This time, though, Jim was able to slip out before Carol
really had herself established on his chest.  Rolling away, he
was temporarily free of his beautiful opponent's clutches.
     Before Jim could get to his feet, Carol had bounced up and
and spun around behind him.  As Jim started to sit up, Carol
slipped her spandex-clad legs around his neck and pulled him into
a neat head scissors.
     She wasted no time applying pressure, and Jim's face quickly
reddened from the constriction.
     Carol was seated behind him, with his head neatly positioned
between her thighs.  As Jim put his right hand to his side,
trying to bridge out of the painful hold, Carol grabbed his wrist
with both hands and pulled his arm up by her chest.  She rolled
over on his trapped arm and secured it under her body, and was
able to capture his left wrist before Jim could try to break the
scissors.
     Jim was in big trouble, and he knew it.  "Auuuuuuggghhhhhh!"
he groaned as Carol straightened her legs, pressuring the hold.
     "Gotcha now, big boy!" Carol gloated.  "You know, this is
really sort of comfortable for me.  I hope you are enjoying being
between my legs!"
     Carol didn't crush down with full pressure on Jim's head and
neck.  She knew that she could probably force an immediate
submission with this hold, but Jim was held completely helpless,
and she intended to stretch out this torture session.  She
gradually tightened the scissors, until Jim once again began to
moan and groan in pain.
     "How does my suit feel on your neck?  Nice and smooth, I
hope!" Carol taunted Jim as she alternately pressured and relaxed
the hold in a slow rhythm.
     Jim saw stars every time Carol squeezed down on his sore
neck, and his jaw felt like it was being cracked.  Several times
Jim was close to crying for "mercy."  Each time, though, Carol
stopped just short of exerting unbearable pressure.
     "Ya' know, Jim, I really like this hold." Carol hissed as
the continued the rhythmic torture.  "I can relax, and I know
I've got your full undivided attention!  Let's see what you can
take!"
     Carol once again tightened her legs, but this time she
didn't relax the pressure.
     "Aiiiiiieeeeeee" screamed Jim, as the crushing pressure
mounted beyond what he could tolerate.  "Enough!  Enough!  I
can't take any more!!!  I submit!!"
     Carol continued to hold him tightly, though.  "Not bad, guy,
but I can make it hurt a lot more!"
     "No!  Please!" begged Jim.  "Have mercy!"
     As Jim uttered their previously agreed safe word, Carol
reluctantly released the hold, and Jim sprawled on the mat,
exhausted.
     "God, Carol," he gasped.  "I've never felt anything like
that!  You could kill someone that way!"
     "I probably could," agreed Carol.  "But not today.  I've got
a lot of other things to subject you to!"
     Before Jim could completely recover, Carol deftly rolled him
over onto his stomach.  She grabbed his ankles, crossed them
behind his butt and sat on them.
     "Jeeez!" shouted Jim.  "I wasn't ready!"
     "I was," grinned Carol.  "You said you wanted an hour of
physical domination.  Well, Jim-baby, you're getting it!"
     Carol grabbed Jim's wrists, one in each hand, and began to
pull his arms back, lifting his fore-body off the mat.  "We call
this the bow-and-arrow.  Can you hit the target?"
     "Oooowwwwwwwww!" Jim screamed, as Carol increased the
tension.  "My back!  You're breaking it!!"
     "Oh, I don't think so," said Carol.  She rhythmically
bounced on his entrapped legs, pulling his arms tighter with each
bounce.
     BOUNCE.  "Oww!"  BOUNCE.  "Yeow!"  BOUNCE  "Carol!  Please!
Oww!"
     After about a dozen good bounces, Carol released the hold
and moved forward, sitting on the small of Jim's back with her
feet placed at his sides.  She slipped her hands around his neck,
pulling back forcefully on his chin.

    "God!  Carol!  You're killing me!" Jim screamed, as the pain
increased in his neck and back.  He tried to relieve the pressure by pressing down with his hands and forearms, but to no avail.
     "This is the camel clutch, Jim," Carol explained.  "It's
another of my favorites!"
     Carol gradually pulled back more forcefully, lifting Jim's
torso further off the mat.
     "Aiiiiieeeeee!  Please!  I can't take any more!"
     "Sure you can," growled Carol.  "I'm not ready for you to
submit yet!"
     She continued to pressure the hold, increasing the pull
until Jim screamed, then backing off enough to quiet him down.
After half a dozen such sequences, she held the pressure steady
for a good 30 seconds, causing Jim to groan in agony.
     "Mercy!  Carol, mercy!" he screamed.
     "Okay.  I guess you've suffered enough for now!" Carol said
as she released Jim's chin and he dropped limply to the floor.
"Let's take five, before I torture you some more."
     It took the full five minutes for Jim to recover enough to
struggle to his feet.  "What else do you plan to inflict on me?"
he asked warily.
     "Oh, I'm not sure.  You'll just have to wait and find out."
Carol answered, smiling sweetly at Jim.  "Ready to go?"
     "I guess so," Jim groaned.  "I'm going to get you this
time!"
     "Oh you are, are you?" was Carol's response, as she circled
Jim, looking for an opening.
     Carol sexily ran her hands over her tightly encased breasts.
The gesture was not lost on Jim, who followed her hands like a
hypnotist's subject follows the legendary swinging pocket watch.
Suddenly she lunged, catching both of Jim's calves and neatly
flipping him on his back.
     Quickly taking advantage of the situation, Carol lifted his
legs, such that Jim was folded, with most of his weight on his
neck and upper back.  She spread his legs, hooking one with her
right leg and securing the other ankle with both hands.
     "Welcome to the banana split!" she crowed as she leaned
forward, splitting Jim's legs and putting more weight on his
neck.
     "Ugh!" grunted Jim.  The split wasn't all that painful, but
the position he was being forced into compressed his diaphragm,
and he found breathing increasingly difficult.
     "My, you're turning red!" Carol observed.  "What's the
matter?  Can't breathe?"
     "Ummph!  Mmmmmph!"
     Carol held Jim in that difficult position for a seeming
eternity, allowing him just enough breath to avoid blacking out.
He couldn't really yell - only muffled grunts could he make.
     Finally Carol let go of him and Jim flopped on his back.
Carol lay on top of Jim hooking each of his legs with hers and
locking her arms tightly around his neck.  She used the leverage
in her legs to force Jim's legs apart forcefully.
     "How do you like the grapevine, big boy?"
     "Aiiiee!  You're splitting me in two!"
     "Oh, I don't think so.  You're just not very flexible.
Let's work on that some!"
     Carol alternated between forcing Jim's legs apart and
pulling up hard on his entrapped head.  As she pulled up on him
her crotch pressed painfully against his chest and her breasts
covered his face.  Breathing was almost impossible, due to the
terrific pressure on his chest and face.
     "Jeez, Carol!" Jim was able to croak during a brief lull in
the pressure.  "You're going to kill me!"
     "I promised I wouldn't!  We're just working on your
flexibility.  Think of this as therapy!"
     Carol's "therapy" soon had Jim on the verge of
unconsciousness.  At long last she released his head and
disentangled her legs from his.  Jim lay under her gasping for
breath.
     Carol immediately knelt on his chest, her smooth, strong
thighs tightly imprisoning his head.
     "Time for a little rest?" she taunted, as she secured his
wrists firmly against the floor above his head.
     Jim had recovered his breath enough to make a feeble attempt
to dislodge the beautiful blonde from his chest, but no matter
how he bucked or tried to roll, Carol rode him dominantly.
     "Face it, Jim, you're pinned good!  Now for the coup de
grace!"
     Carol inched forward, until her moist crotch hovered over
his face.  "Take a deep breath, Jim," she advised.
     As Jim tried to do as he was told, Carol sat heavily on his
face, smothering him in a sea of spandex.  Jim kicked and bucked
as hard as he could, but Carol could not be dislodged.  As his
efforts died out, Carol periodically lifted her crotch from his
face to allow him a slight breath of air.
     "After all, guy, we don't want you unconscious.  You can't
enjoy being smothered if you're not awake!"
     The face-sitting session continued for about 15 minutes,
until the kitchen timer rang.
     "That's it!  Party's over!" Carol got up, shut off the noisy
timer, and sat on a nearby sofa to watch the prostrate Jim
recover.
     He was red-faced, breathing heavily.  "Good God, Carol!
When you promised an hour of physical domination, you really
meant it!" Jim gasped.  "I just don't understand how such a
beautiful woman can be so tough and brutal!"
     "Face it, Jim.  It's what you asked for.  And what I enjoy,
too!  Are you interested in another session?   Or was this too
much for you?"
     "Oh, I'll be back in a few months, I guess?  What new
wrinkles do you have for then?"
     "Well, I was toying with a new concept.  Let's wrestle for
an hour, submission only.  We'll keep track of the number of
times you submit.  Then, I'll tack on dessert.  I've got an old
razor strop that belonged to my father.  We'll give you ten slaps
with the strop for each time you submit.  That, Jim-baby, should
make you a little less reluctant to give up!"
     "Well, I....uh....I just don't know about that."
     "Oh, I think I know you well enough now.  You'll be back.
I'll oil the strop!"

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