CARRIE IN MEXICO
By David H. M.
Fitness model Carrie Caraway tangles with a trio of nasty-minded males who learn a harsh lesson on the dangers of messing with her



Author's note. Please respect copyright restraints.

Fitness model Carrie Caraway wondered if that creep she caught gawking at her
in the hotel lobby had followed her to this secluded part of the beach.
Topless Carrie sat yoga style on a big white blanket watching the waves. A
bright sun sinking toward the Gulf of Mexico horizon bathed her with coppery
rays.

The medium-sized creep had a round, pink face, short-cut sandy hair, and wore
white shorts, a blue blazer, no shirt, and sandals. Carrie asked the clerk at
the front desk about him and the man shrugged.

"He's rich and he has a boat," the desk clerk said. The clerk cleared his
throat. "He has a friend. Muy malo hombre. Tough." He spread his thin arms
wide to suggest that the tough man was big.

A bodyguard probably, Carrie concluded.

"Stay away from them," the clerk warned. "A beautiful young woman like you
isn't safe around men like those."

"Why?" Carrie wanted to know.

His lips moved nervously. "They take women on their boat and do things to
them."

"Thanks," Carrie said. With creeps like that on the loose in foreign countries
little wonder Americans had bad reputations.

Carrie turned around, didn't see him, and realized that she had the beach
practically to herself. She rummaged through the straw beach basket she had
purchased from a street peddler for the sun block and poured some on her bare
chest. She rubbed it vigorously over her 35C breasts and kneaded it into her
nipples. Carrie liked the idea of going topless. At home she always romped
nude. If she could shed the skimpy black thong she wore that would really be
great.

Carrie stretched out on the blanket, legs splayed, eyes closed. Immediately
the sun's hot rays began massaging her lithe limbs and sleek torso. Carrie was
proud of her well -shaped body sculpted by rigorous exercise. She had firm
boobs, a gorgeous ass, slim hips, a flat tummy, and sexy thighs and calves.

Images of Carrie's chaotic life since her fight with a goon named Yorkin in
Tony Conley's Hollywood gym flashed in her mind. Her agent, Myra Fain,
thirtyish and attractive, appeared, reading the riot act to Carrie about
contact boxing.

"How could you be so stupid to jeopardize your career doing something like
that? Thank God you got out of it with only some cuts and bruises."

When Carrie told Myra that she gave Yorkin a beating, broken nose, cracked
ribs, that set Myra off again. "Stay away from that damn boxing gym or I'm
going to sue those bozos, understand?"

Carrie, 21-years old,.didn't like being treated like a little girl but Myra
had gotten her so much work in the ten months she'd been in Los Angeles that
Carrie went along. "Yes. I understand." Of course Carrie didn't keep that
promise. She liked fighting too much. Fighting against men gave her a high.
What she did do was cut her workouts back to twice a week and she stopped
sparring. She couldn't risk having her face damaged. In that sense Carrie
agreed with Myra.

Carrie continued to hit the big bag and practice blocking and avoiding
punches. Her trainers, David Malloy and Tony Conley, both ex-pro fighters,
focused more on leg trips and hip throws, on arm locks and chokeholds.
Anything that involved power wouldn't work for Carrie because she lacked size
and awesome strength. For her modeling Carrie had to stay at a lean 150
pounds. Carrie trained mostly with a bald-headed biker, a sturdy Korean male
nurse, and a 300-pound black prison guard. Those three roughed Carrie up but
she gained skill and confidence.

"You could beat any one of those guys," David Malloy told her, "if you land a
good punch and a kick where it hurts. But if they don't go down you're in deep
do do."

Back to Myra who could be a real bitch. To show Carrie who was boss, Myra
stopped getting Carrie jobs indefinitely. "When you're sufficiently healed
I'll start calling you again," Myra said. "Or you can quit me and go with
another agency."

Carrie would be foolish to quit Myra; she had the best modeling agency in
Hollywood. To give Myra time to mellow Carrie took a freelance job with
photographer Graham Kerns, but that happened after Carrie broke up with Laura,
a grad student a U.CL.A. and Carrie's girlfriend and lover.

"Why can't we move in together?" Laura insisted.

"Because it's better this way, "Carrie said. Carrie liked living alone in her
condo on South Ocean Drive in Santa Monica.

"Maybe we should stop seeing one another," Laura threatened.

Carrie simply replied, "Okay." That ended the affair.

Carrie wriggled on the blanket, bent a leg, and dug pretty toes into the hot
sand. Some people in the business didn't like Graham because he had a bad
reputation with women. A year ago a model accused him of rape then dropped the
charges. He needed a tall beautiful blond for a swimsuit shoot, two days for
$5000. Carrie jumped at it. They were shooting in a beach town on the Baja
coast below Tijuana. Carrie drove down with Graham and Graham's girlfriend
Shelly, a foxy redhead whose family had lots of money.

Suddenly Carrie felt sand sprinkling her breasts. She opened her eyes. A
shadow blocked out the sun. Carrie sat up with a start and saw Graham, in a
raspberry thong as skimpy as hers. He stood over her, legs spread, a raunchy
grin creasing his good-looking face. Graham stood about 6'2", weighed about
205. He had wavy light brown hair, blue eyes, and a nice body. Graham lifted
weights and knew karate. He finished first not long ago in some tournament.
Carrie had no idea how long he'd been looking at her. He sprinkled more sand
on her breasts.

"Nice tits," Graham said.

Carrie didn't appreciate that remark but she decided to let it pass. Graham
dropped onto the blanket next to her. "Where's Shelly?" Carrie asked, brushing
sand from her chest. She tossed her head back because some sand had gotten in
her hair.

"She's taking a nap."

Carrie didn't like the way Graham crowded against her, the way his shoulder
touched hers. "Then maybe you shouldn't be here with me." Carrie didn't want
any trouble; she didn't want Shelly thinking she was hitting on Graham.

"Don't worry about it I won't tell if you won't." Graham reached around Carrie
and picked up the dark brown plastic bottle of sun block. "Let me put some of
this on your tits." He made it sound like a vulgar command.

Carrie felt rage burning through her. "They're breasts, Graham, okay. And I
know how to use that lotion."

Graham kept staring lustingly at Carrie's bare boobs. He licked his lips and
his jaw muscles tensed. She felt a hand press against her bare hip and felt
strong fingers edging over her thong toward her covered pussy.

"Don't," Carrie said.

Suddenly his hands came up and his fingers were touching Carrie's nipples,
which jutted out because of her anger.

Carrie pushed his hands away and sprang to her feet, those breasts Graham
couldn't resist jiggling. Graham remained seated and smugly looked up at her.

"I guess you're going to run and tell Shelly."

Carrie placed her hands on her slim hips. "I'm not like that. Just don't touch
me again unless it's my idea."

Graham pushed himself up, his hard-on obvious, and faced Carrie.

"Someone told me you're a lesbo."

"That's my business." It startled Carrie that he had suddenly become so
aggressive and abusive.

"Or do you go both ways?"

"Don't push me too far, Graham."

He smirked. "Oh yeah. I heard you're pretty tough. How about proving it to me.
I'll give you $500 if you can beat me wrestling."

Carrie parted her lips with the tip of her tongue. Carrie knew he wanted an
excuse to put his hands on her and she guessed he believed he'd never have to
pay out that $500. Carrie ran her palms over her hips, the friction warming
her flesh even more than the sun. The idea of stomping on Graham's male ego
appealed to Carrie.

"What if I lose?" Carrie asked feigning innocence but it could happen.

"I get to suck those luscious nipples of yours."

Carrie brushed blond strands of hair away from her pale green eyes. "Just
wrestling. No punching." Carrie couldn't risk returning to L.A. with even one
mark on her face. She had a meeting scheduled with Myra day after tomorrow.
Myra had three jobs waiting if she approved of the way Carrie looked.

"Don't worry," Graham said, smiling cockily. "I won't hurt you."

Carrie went over the edge. "Hey, Graham, if you want to turn this into an
ultimate fighting championship type of thing that's fine with me. I just want
to know the rules."

"I said wrestling. Besides, I need you looking good for the camera for
tomorrow." Graham offered his right hand. "Is it a deal?"

Leary of a trick Carrie kept her hands at her sides. She felt her heart
banging out of control. The thought of fighting Graham had sent her zooming.
"I just had an idea," Carrie said. "If you can knock me down with one of your
karate punches we won't have to wrestle and you can suck, or lick, any part of
my body you want."

Graham's eyes lighted as they roamed from Carrie's chest to between her
thighs. His hands became fists.

"Just knock me down Graham and I'm yours," Carrie dared.

"No problemo," he sneered.

Carrie smiled. "Give me a moment to get ready." She stooped like a baseball
catcher and rummaged through her straw basket. Amidst a short- sleeved white
cotton shirt, sandals, sunglasses, and a plastic bottle of water, she found
the bikini tops and a red bandana. She wrapped her right hand over her
knuckles with the bandana and her left hand the same way with the bikini tops.
"I don't want to hurt myself on those hard bones of yours."

"You won't get the chance," Graham sneered.

As Graham brought his fists back Carrie dropped into a slight crouch. Graham
made a

Whooshing," sound dragging in air.

Graham's right fist, aimed at Carrie's 's left shoulder, shot out as he drew
his left fist back to his hip in preparation for a follow-up strike. Carrie
turned swiftly and effortlessly to the side, used a right outside block on his
punch, and ripped a vicious left hook into his exposed side, into his kidney.
Carrie's punch stunned him. She followed it with a looping right that caught
him on the forehead, and then put him down with a savage right hook into his
belly. Carrie wasn't even breathing hard.

She unwrapped her hands, tossed the bandana and bikini tops into her bag, and
dug her fingers into her hips. She looked amused at Graham sprawled at her
feet. "Still want to wrestle?" Carrie teased smiling.

Graham seemed dazed. In a matter of seconds Carrie had hit him three times. In
a punching match Graham wasn't in Carrie's class. Carrie rubbed her breasts
glistening with sweat in the bright sunlight. Her nipples ached sweetly when
her hand grazed them.

Graham, rubbing his sore forehead, managed to sit. Carrie slipped a hand
inside her bikini thong and fingered her quivering pussy lips. Carrie felt the
beginning of an orgasm. Graham got to his feet but his legs didn't seem to be
very solid under him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Graham sneered. "I was going easy on you."

Carrie didn't believe him and she snickered. "Oh sure." Graham wanted to
overpower her so he could get a taste of her nipples and pussy and if that
meant hurting her he didn't care. "If I had wanted to I could have knocked you
unconscious," Carrie told him.

"And I will if you try to punch me again," she warned. "Still want to
wrestle?"

Carrie flexed her right hand; she had jammed her wrist in her fight with
Yorkin, but the wrist and hand felt fine now. Carrie used fingers to rake
loose hair from her face. "Come on, make up your mind or hand over that $500."

She watched Graham sizing her up and down. She could tell he wasn't so sure of
himself. He saw a female standing there but a dangerous one. Carrie raised her
slender but well-muscled arms over her head and yawned. She stretched even
higher to loosen her shoulders and to taunt Graham with her bare breasts, his
prize if he could beat her.

"If you're afraid just say so," Carrie said. "I'd be afraid too if somebody
did to me what I just did to you."

Suddenly Graham leaped at her like a sumo wrestler. Carrie got her arms down
but that

Only gave him a chance to pin them against her sides. His chest crushed
against her breasts, hurting her. Carrie struggled to keep her balance; she
couldn't let him fall on her. She slipped her right foot behind his and used a
hip throw to get him off.

They fell to the sand rolling, Graham furiously trying to regain his grip on
her. He had the advantage because of his strength but Carrie knew more about
grappling and she had quickness. Graham kept going for her wrists, probably to
immobilize her hands to keep from getting hit. Carrie grabbed his hair and
twisted him off balance. His breath came in hurried thirsty gasps. That little
tussle had taken a lot out of him.

Carrie needed air too. She rolled free, got up on her knees, took deep
breaths, her lungs were exploding, desperate for air, and moving quickly used
her long legs to apply a neck scissors. She had Graham now; he seemed
helpless. She applied pressure, trying to turn the hold into a choke. He
flailed with his arms to pry her legs from around his neck. Carrie grabbed a
wrist and maneuvered it into an arm lock. She bent his arm enough to make him
wince and whimper. She could see the pain on his face, the tears in his eyes.

"Quit Graham, or I'll break your arm."

"Don't, Carrie," he sobbed. "I've had enough."

Carrie released him and rolled away. Exhausted she lay in the sand with her
arms and legs spread, inviting him to dare to take advantage of her in that
vulnerable position. She hoped he would try. Carrie felt so charged she wanted
to keep fighting. She closed her eyes but didn't relax. She remained intent,
listening for sounds of Graham attacking. All she heard were waves crashing.

"You can win your 500 back if you pin me," Carrie said finally. "But if you
don't, and if I beat you again, you'll owe me a grand. Wanna try?" She waited
for an answer and didn't get one. "Come on Graham, my eyes are closed. You can
pounce on me and I wouldn't even know it." Still no answer. Carrie opened her
eyes and saw him on his knees watching her. Carrie lifted her hips enough to
tuck her hands under her buttocks.

"I'm defenseless now, Graham. But if you try to take me and fail I'll really
hurt you."

Graham brushed sand from his stomach.

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

Graham said, "Don't say that, Carrie."

"Why? It's true." Carrie wanted to goad him into continuing the fight. She
wanted to punish him more for the shoddy way he had treated her earlier.

"What's Shelly going to think about her big he-man when she learns a girl beat
him up?"

Graham sprang at Carrie. She brought her right knee up and got him in the
sternum, knocking the wind out of him. He went down on all fours. Carrie
leaped to her feet and kicked him hard in the stomach. He flattened out in the
sand.

"Still want to fight?"

"No," he whined.

"I don't even need my hands to take a little brat like you .Say you're sorry
for feeling me up before."

"I'm sorry, Carrie."

"I don't like guys fingering my pussy and fingering my nipples without
permission, understand?"

"Yes, Carrie."

"Roll over."

Graham obeyed. Carrie rubbed a foot covered with sand over his mouth. "Lick
the sand off my toes," she told him. He obeyed. Carrie pulled her foot away
when he started coughing and choking on sand.

"Now go back to the hotel and have that thousand dollars you owe me ready when
I get there."

She watched him crawl away, and then get to his feet, and then trudge toward
the hotel with his head bowed.

Carrie fell in a heap and spread her legs and arms. She pulled the thong free
of her hips and writhed naked in the sand, her body convulsing. She got
wonderfully hot and wet between her thighs. She felt terrific.

Most of the sun had dipped away leaving the sky looking like the inside of a
tangerine. Carrie sprinted to the water and swam out a ways to wash off the
sand. After twenty minutes she left the water and dragged herself toward her
blanket. She felt weak and tired. In the distance she spotted the creep, whom
she had forgotten about, and another man, watching her. The two men moved
aggressively toward her. The second man was huge, over six feet and at least
300 pounds. He wore only blue walking shorts and sneakers. His hairless chest
was red from too much sun.

Carrie stopped to catch her breath. She didn't have the energy to sprint to
her blanket and get into her bikini. Besides, she didn't have a problem about
them seeing her naked. They'd get a free look and that was all. The big man
broke from the little man and approached Carrie in ponderous strides.

"Mr. Lutz wants you to come to his boat so he can film you."

"What?" Carrie gasped. Looking beyond the big man she saw Lutz smirking at
her.

"Let's go now," the big man ordered. He made a grab at Carrie's nearest arm
but she jumped back a step.

The little man said, "There's no one here to help you, missy. Be a nice little
girl and do what we want."

Carrie couldn't believe this was happening. First Graham acting like an ass
and now on this deserted beach two perverts accosting her. The big perv lunged
at her again so Carrie gave it to him, a right front kick where it hurt the
most, solidly between his bulky legs. Her bare-footed kick froze him.

"I don't like guys grabbing for me, understand."

Carrie waited a moment for a reaction. All she got was his arms and legs
trembling from the shock of that kick. Carrie caught him with a right uppercut
on his flat chin. She hit him so hard that the bones in her knuckles began to
sing. Still, he didn't go down. "You punk," Carrie snarled.

He bent over cupping his crushed balls with his big hands. The little man
stared at Carrie in disbelief. Carrie tossed her head back to get strands of
hair out of her eyes. Her heart beat like a jungle drum. She felt super
charged. She had never tangled with a man this big before. Carrie stood almost
5"11" and weighed 150. This guy must have been six one and over 300 pounds.

Carrie's nipples ached deliciously. She touched them and felt a sweetness
surge through her chest. In front of her the big man tried to stand upright.
Carrie hit him in the ribs with a left hook and a right hook. His eyes went
blank as the pain shot through flab into his bones. Carrie had just enough
room to twist sideways and kick him in the belly. He backed up but didn't
fall.

"Damn you," Carrie groaned.

Carrie put her hands on her hips and took deep breaths, her breasts rising as
she inhaled. She caught the little man gazing at her in awe. Carrie got so
close to the big man that her nipples touched his chest. He tried to lift his
arms but his arms seemed to be too heavy. Carrie's wicked kicks and punches
had sapped him. Carrie peered into his blank eyes and saw little flickers of
fear. Carrie put her hands flat on his chest and pushed. He crumbled.

The little man started to run but Carrie caught him. She tripped him and he
fell face first into the sand. She knelt in front of him a knee on either side
of his head.

"Don't hurt me, please," he whined.

"Why shouldn't I, after you sigged that monster on me?"

"Please," he sniveled. "Don't hurt me."

"Do you still think I'm a little girl?

"No."

"What am I then?"

"A woman."

He had lifted his face and was trying to focus on Carrie's eyes.

"What kind of woman?"

"A superior woman."

Carrie stood and said,"Get up."

He quickly obeyed her command. He stood at least four inches shorter than
Carrie and probably ten pounds lighter. It would be indecent to strike him but
he needed to be punished. .

"Take off your clothes."

Again he quickly obeyed. Now both Carrie and he were naked. Carrie took his
coat and shorts from him and tossed them aside.

"Wait here," Carrie commanded.

The little man stood at attention.

Carrie returned to the big man who struggled to stand. "Stay where you are
because I'll only knock you down again," Carrie told him. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

Carrie slipped into the thong and short-sleeved shirt. "Have you ever lost a
fight before?"

"Never."

"Then you'll remember this one won't you?"

"I'll remember."

Carrie left the shirt unbuttoned, left most of her gorgeous breasts exposed.
On the horizon the sun had almost disappeared.

"You can get up now."

He managed to get to his feet. Peering at Carrie he cringed.

"Take off your shorts and throw them away;"

After he did Carrie appraised him. "You're a lot better equipped than your
little friend."

As battered as he was he got stiff.

"That's cute," Carrie said. "You want me, don't you?"

"Yes. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Well it's not going to happen."

Carrie got on her haunches and removed the red bandana from the basket. The
big man hovered over her. Carrie's heart raced out of control. What if he
tried to overpower her?

She glanced up at him, her eyes flicking over the long thick spear of flesh
sticking out from between his legs.

"Don't even think of getting brave."

"I won't." His arms hung uselessly at his sides.

She couldn't believe how docile he had become. The fact that she could control
this huge hulk sent ripples of ectasy through her. In Carrie's mind a woman in
control was as it should be.

She tore off a strip from the bandana and used it to tie a bow on the big
man's erect penis. He stood there timidly.

"Now you're even cuter," she told him, smiling. Behind the smile Carrie gave a
hint of brutality if he dared get out of line. "Do you like being a sissy."

"Whatever you want," he muttered.

"The fun is just beginning. Tomorrow I think I'll buy you a dress. And some
lipstick. Then what will you do?"

"Wear the dress and put on the lipstick if you order me to."

Carrie knew that the board walk would be crowded.

"Get my blanket and step behind me like a good slave.That means head bowed and
no talking without my permission."

He did what she told him to do.

Carrie looked at the little man and wriggled a finger at him. He hurridly came
to her side.

"Pick up my basket and get between me and your friend."

He opened his mouth to speak.

"Did I give you permission to talk?"

He clamped his lips shut.

"I spank bad little boys like you. With a whip."

Tears filled his eyes. Carrie feared that he might faint. Both he and his
friend deserved to be humiliated and afraid.

Looking at both of them she said,"Keep following me all the way into my hotel.
I want everyone to know what happens to men who think they can get rough with
me."

Carrie strode across the sand, shoulders back, head high, her lovely rounded
behind undulating, feeling great about herself.