There's Something About Melissa
By Dolerat@yahoo.co.uk
Fighting babe Melissa plays with her menagerie


This is the first in a number of stories that I hope to contribute to Diana's
site. I would categorise them all as 'Femdom Lite' mixed with some combat
scenes. There will be no explicit sex or violence and no bad language.

This story is a sequel to 'New Challenge' by Sportster. As I do not know
Sportster's e-mail address, it has not been possible to contact him (or her)
for approval to use the characters. I hope they have no objection and that
they find the story a worthy follow-up! Please note that it takes place a few
years after the events of 'New Challenge'.

Melissa Vinson's beautiful features were screwed up into an uncharacteristic
frown of concern as she left the health club, wearing a smart white tracksuit.
Her older brother, Aaron, was waiting by his car and she tossed her sports bag
to him.

Melissa was 17 and Aaron, like his twin brother Eric, was 21. Like many young
men, he thought only about girls and sports and getting a better job. But
unlike most young men, he knew that he would have

only a limited influence over his life choices. Most of the decisions would be
made by his younger sister, Melissa, in consultation with HER younger sister,
Kim, and their mother.

"Take me to the gym", ordered Melissa curtly. Sensing she was not in the mood
for debate, he drove off with a squeal of tyres.

The gym at Melissa's High School was intensively used for after-school
activities and community sports. But on Tuesday evenings, for some reason, it
could not be booked. Nobody (except Melissa) knew why. Complaints to the
authorities had proved fruitless.

She jumped out of the car, telling her brother: "Be here at eight to collect
me." Then she strode purposefully into the changing rooms. As she took off the
tracksuit, she worried away at the two problems on her mind; one was her
mother's lost investment in her Enron shares, the second was the business
problems being experienced by her friend Kathy down at the mall.

Underneath the tracksuit, she wore a black-and-jade gymnastics leotard. The
silkskin fabric outlined every inch of her shapely, but muscular, upper body.
Her bare legs looked incredibly long. Had she actually been performing
gymnastics, she would have tied her hair back but instead she let her blonde
tresses flow loose, where they made a stunning contrast with the dark colours
of the leotard. Her body excited men, she knew that, and it all added to her
control over them. Control was the key. As she rubbed her fingers over the
clinging fabric of the leotard, an idea came to her...

Melissa strode into the gym, where a dozen men were waiting for her, all clad
in singlets and shorts. They were a strange bunch. Ages ranged from 17 to 37.
Some were lean, muscular teenagers, others were succumbing to middle-age
flabbiness. Amongst them were a local policeman, a supermarket manager, a
school careers adviser, two next-door neighbours, a few would-be boyfriends, a
pervert who had made the mistake of harassing Melissa in the park ... and the
caretaker responsible for the gym. That explained why she had exclusive use of
it on a Tuesday.

One man raised a hand nervously. "Er, Ms Vinson? My parents are having an
anniversary party tonight and they want me to be there. Could I leave early?"

Melissa was fond of Brian. He was cute. She liked the way he was nervous
around her. But authority had to be maintained.

"Well d'uh! What do I care if your boring parents are celebrating their boring
old anniversary?"

Brian's face fell. But he did not question her decision, no man in the gym
would dare do that.

She clapped her hands briskly. "OK, let's get started!" Then she snapped her
fingers and every man dropped to his knees with a precision so exact it was
comical. She snapped again and twelve male foreheads hit the mat with a
pronounced thump. One more snap and the heads were raised, one more snap and 
they all stood up. A circus animal trainer could not have done it better, but 
then that was what Melissa considered herself to be.

"Right, listen up 'cause I'm not going to repeat this. One jump, two hop,
three wriggle like a worm, four snog eight (no tongue), five and nine report
to the wrestling mat, six" (the brightest of the bunch) "off to the office and
start my homework, seven run around the room, ten, eleven and twelve, make a
sofa for me."

Melissa had assigned all the men numbers. From one to twelve, all launched
into activity. The men designated ten, eleven and twelve (the caretaker, a
neighbour and a particularly pushy door-to-door salesman) descended to hands
and knees and shuffled together, so that Melissa could stretch out atop their
torsos. From this vantagepoint, she watched with amusement as the men sweated
and strained to obey her commands. She would occasionally throw out an
instruction, a contemptuous jibe or an order to work harder. Especially
amusing was the sight of numbers four and eight, actually Bill and Ben, two
would-be boyfriends, burly jocks now red-faced with shame and humiliation as
they snogged one another.

Why did they obey her, Melissa wondered? At first, she had relied on an
element of blackmail. How could Mr Simpkins, the school careers adviser,
possibly explain his involvement with a shapely young girl teen to his
attractive, but glacial, wife? But once they had been under her control a
while, it became internalised within them. Something within the male psyche
actually seemed to crave enslavement by a powerful and icily beautiful young
woman, provided that she displayed total confidence and total mastery. So it
was like animal training after all.

She uncurled her long limbs from the human divan and strolled over to where
subjects five and nine were waiting. Five was the school careers instructor, a
lanky man in younger middle age. Nine was a local police officer, a muscly man
in his twenties, who prided himself on his fitness and skill at unarmed combat
-but he had only tackled armed robbers, burglars and street gangs, not Melissa
Vinson.

The two men knew that to attack her meant a thorough beating. But to not
attack her meant disobeying her orders and THAT meant a thorough beating too.
She clicked her fingers and they looked at each other hopelessly. Then they
shrugged and charged at her.

What happened next seemed miraculous. One moment she was there, in their path,
the next she was gone, with the merest twitch of her torso, and the two men
crashed into each other and fell to the floor. For the next five minutes, they
made strenuous but singularly unsuccessful efforts to lay a hand on her.
Melissa strolled around, hands resting on her hips or casually folded behind
her back, making encouraging comments, smiling wickedly as they tired
themselves out. "Men", she thought, "they really are feeble!"

The other men dotted around the hall would surreptitiously interrupt their
monotonous activities to watch as Melissa effortlessly took apart her would-be
assailants. They did not know whether to pity or to envy the two victims who
found their bodies twisted into ever more improbable contortions or locked
helplessly between Melissa's sinuous limbs. The sobs of mercy or high-pitched
screeches they emitted, as Melissa's steely grip fastened onto a tender limb
or as a stiffened finger jabbed mercilessly at a nerve centre, were alarming
but the proximity of the victims to her shapely leotard-clad torso did arouse
envy.

With her powerful arms clamped around the necks of the two men, Melissa
giggled as they pawed helplessly to get free. Then she shouted, "Brian!"

Brian had been hopping on alternate legs for half-an-hour and was lathered
with sweat. Fearfully, he rushed over to her. "Yes, Ms Vinson?"

"You can go to your boring party, now. See how good I am to you guys? But show
your appreciation before you leave."

"Yes, Ms Vinson." While the two male heads remained in place between arm and
chest on either side, the third man knelt down at Melissa's feet. Brian
tenderly kissed each foot in turn. "Thank you, Ms Vinson." She smiled to
herself. Well-trained animals responded to both kindness and discipline - the
trick was knowing the right time for both.

As a thankful Brian hurried away, she released her two exhausted victims. They
crawled to her ankles and began lavishing kisses on her feet and lower legs.
"Look up at me," she ordered. They did so, with all the pathetic eagerness of
young puppies.

"Who is your superior?"

"You are, Ms Vinson."

"What do I expect of you?"

They knew the mantra by heart now. "Total, unconditional, unthinking
obedience."

"That's right. Off you go." She raised her voice. "All of you, back in line!"

A group of frightened, tired, perspiring men faced her. Their minds and
spirits had been broken. Time for some new recruits, Melissa thought. A little
resistance would be fun. Now what about the new Drill Sergeant down at Fort
Baxter? Apparently he had boasted about doing the assault course in 17
minutes, a record time. Big deal! Melissa had snuck in and done it in 15
minutes when she was just 12 years old. It was too easy for her now.

With military matters on her mind, she strode up and down like a
sergeant-major as she inspected her bedraggled subjects. They looked on with
mingled fear and devotion, admiring the curves of her body, the dancer-like
balance and the martial arts trained limbs that had inflicted so much torment
on them.

"Right, now listen up! My friend Kathy's dancewear shop down at the Eisenhower
Mall needs some more customers. So from next week, we're going to have a new
costume for all you slaves." Apprehensive faces watched her. "I want you all
to go down to the shop - it's called "Tight Spot" - this week and buy a
leotard, tights and legwarmers. Kathy will help you try them on and she'll
close the shop when you do it. Isn't that kind of her? I'm sure you'll all
look sweet in Lycra."

No dissent. Not a murmur. Just glum resignation. Damn, she'd programmed them
TOO well!

Melissa snapped her fingers and her subjects filed away to the changing-room.
She threw on some sweats over her leotard - she would shower at home later -
and ran out to the car, where Aaron and Eric were waiting. She was 10 minutes
late but it didn't matter. They would wait till the crack of doom if she told
them to.

Back home, she bounced cheerfully into the house. Her mother, a bored
expresion on her face, was armwrestling with her new boyfriend. He was
red-faced, panting, straining to hold her, while she was idly examining her
nails.

"Nice day, dear?"

"D'uh! Men are such wimps." Melissa turned to her two brothers. "Take my stuff
upstairs then get started on my homework. If you're quick, you can watch TV
later."

Aaron shuffled uncomfortably. "I - I can't Melissa. Kim took all my pens
away." He looked about to cry.

"Aaah, poor baby! Tell Kim I said to give you one pen back, okey-doke?"

Her mother slammed her opponent's hand down on the table and turned to face
Melissa, leaving her new suitor a gasping wreck.

"There's a report on CBS about Enron and that Mr Lay. Really, those people
were a bunch of grasping crooks! It's about time our government took more
interest in Main Street and less in Wall Street. Still, I suppose it's partly
my fault for buying their shares."

As Melissa listened to the TV, a name caught her attention. "...and Mr Lay is
presently believed to be staying with his sister in the small town of Barlow
Falls, while he awaits the outcome of Congressional and Justice Department
investigations..."

Barlow Falls was just fifty miles down the road. She pondered a moment and
then flexed her right arm, causing her mother's boyfriend (who was crawling
past at the time) to give an apprehensive yelp.

"Mom" she said, with a wicked grin. "I'm going to pay a visit on that Mr Lay
tomorrow. He says he believes in market forces - well, let's try him with
Melissa's forces!"

And with that, Melissa Vinson, high school babe, athlete, boxing and wrestling
champ, idolised by the men who didn't know her, feared AND idolised by the men
who DID know her, departed for the shower. When you're young, beautiful,
strong, athletic, intelligent and superfit, life is good and the world lies at
your feet ... or under them.

There definitely was something about Melissa.

END