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The night air was pleasant, cool and slightly moist against your skin, but it brought you no peace. As you leaned out over the balcony, surveying the reflecting pools and gardens of the estate stretching out into the moonlight, you tried to relax, enjoy the panorama, and ignore the sound of the music, laughter, and dancing in the ballroom down the hall from the study whose window you had flung open. Flung open at the end of a mad flight from the ball, trying to escape that which you most desired and, yet, by which you were most terrified.

The party had begun pleasantly enough. You had come unescorted, determined you have a good time regardless of who had or had not come with you. There were enough unattached men, or just outrageous flirts, to more than fill a casual night. Perhaps you would meet someone interesting, or particularly attractive, you had thought, but put the subject from your mind: no expectations except for diversion.

Then, two hours or so after the first dancing had begun, she had entered the room. It was between dances, and the crowd was busy with angling through the floor, looking for someone to ask for the next dance, or making themselves obvious to the person they wished would ask them. When the dark figured had filled the doorway, many had turned to look. Most had given a quick, appreciative glance, and then returned to their partners. You had not; although you were across the room, you stopped and stared as if turned to stone.

She was tall, at least six feet. She was dressed in black, in a perfect coachman’s uniform. She wore tight pants fit into calf-high boots, shiny and well-polished. Her vest, cut to give her a tight V-figure, was closed with a double row of bright silver buttons. Those, and her white cravat, were the only thing which were not black, black to the point of absorbing the light around her. Her hands and fingers were long and delicate as she casually tapped the palm of one hand with a riding crop. Her features were strong, aristocratic, not feminine except in their beauty. Her close-cropped hair was nearly completely concealed by a coachman’s top hat. But her eyes drew you most of all. Large, intense, as dark as her clothing, they held to the promise of lust, passion, power and even cruelty

The band struck up a waltz on a slightly off note, shocking you back to reality. You dimly were aware of your partner taking your hand and leading you onto the dance floor, and the movement gradually brought you to earth. Occasionally as the dance progressed, you would glimpse her dancing with women (and always leading). But after every dance, she was someplace else, asking someone else to dance; you could never seem to get near to her. Finally, the impression of her first appearance faded, and the evening continued.

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For as far back as I can remember I have had an interest, you could say an obsession, with beautiful women who were well-built and physically strong. As the years have gone by I guess I have become more “hardcore” in this interest. In fact it is a sexual turn on for me to think about a beautiful woman beating me in physical tests of strength such as arm wrestling and wrestling. I have thought about boxing as well, but I am afraid of black eyes, etc. At any rate, this story is about how I was introduced to a club of women who are all beautiful, well-built and physically strong.

I had been writing to Cat - a real live woman, believe me, for some time when circumstances made it possible for me to travel and spend several days in the area in which she lived. Cat had told me that she loved to wrestle and dominate her ‘victims’ physically before she took them apart sexually and that she had some female friends who did the same thing. I was so excited that I could think of nothing else. I arrived and contacted Cat to tell her the hotel where I was staying. She said, ” I’m so glad you are here. I have told the other girls about you and they can’t wait to see us wrestle. It’s really amazing, but I don’t remember ever being as strong as I am now. You get unpacked and settled in and then a few of us will come over to your room and we’ll have a little warm up contest to see who pays for dinner tonight. I hope you brought enough cash ’cause there will be five of us going out for a big steak dinner on you.” I hung the phone up and got all my things unpacked. It wasn’t long before I heard a knock on the door and I could feel the excitement as I opened the door.

Standing there were four big, beautiful women. I knew at this point that I would be no match for any of them. They were all dressed in tight sweaters, short skirts and high heels. It seemed to me that their legs were a mile long. They greeted me with big smiles and as each one shook my hand and introduced themselves they each gave my hand a sample of their strength. Cat said, ” We are starving so we’ll make this quick. Come over here and kneel down in front of me and let me give you a sample of my scissors hold. We could wrestle and the result would be the same; this way we don’t get all messed up before dinner. If you can last for 30 seconds without submitting then we’ll buy you dinner. ” I knelt down and Cat almost gently placed my head between her long legs. My throat was resting on her crotch and I was looking up into her smiling face. The girls counted to three and then Cat winked and squeezed.

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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!”

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