Leona
by Michael Elk
A true story of my first mixed wrestling


The following encounter occurred during my final year in college. The facts
are for the most part accurate. However after many years, I'm unable to recall
our conversations verbatim, and have therefore used some license with the
dialogue.

The girl who greeted me at the door was a disappointment in two ways. First,
she was black and I just wasn't prepared for that. The ad hadn't specified the
race of the woman, so I had assumed she would be Caucasian. I don't find black
women unattractive, but the idea of being dominated by one does not appeal to
me. My fantasies have always featured white girls, and I guess over the years,
I've come to picture them as superior and have put them on a pedestal.

Second, and more important, she wore glasses. My fantasy woman are all
beautiful and strong, with no defects. This girl was pretty, but not
exceptional, and, although she was about 5'10" and solidly built, the glasses
made her look decidedly non-athletic - more like a librarian than a combatant.
Where was the Amazon that I had fantasized into existence? So as she ushered
me into her living room, and invited me to be seated, my previous anticipation
and excitement quickly evaporated, and I found myself regretting my decision
to spend $150 on this venture.

I'd discovered mixed wrestling on the Internet and had ordered a couple of
unsatisfying videos, which showed men pretending to be out-wrestled by smaller
women. Some women on certain sites did appear to be strong and powerful, and
advertised wrestling sessions. However I come from a small city, and these
women always seemed to be situated in large centers such as New York or
Cleveland, and I never seriously considered venturing forth on such an
extensive pilgrimage. I was also in my last year of college, and didn't have a
lot of free time or money. Then an ad had appeared in the local paper, under
the section for 'Escorts', announcing 'Leona', and 'newly arrived', and
promising 'domination and/or wrestling', and utterly commanding my attention.
I debated for two days, all the while the excitement and anticipation growing
unbearably, before finally getting up the nerve to phone and arrange a
session.

Now I sat facing this girl who I was supposed to wrestle. Wearing a tank top,
shorts and sandals, she perched on the front half of the sofa cushion across
from me, and seemed normal enough. A few years older than I was, perhaps 30 or
32, she appeared decidedly pleasant, and totally lacked the aloof superiority
or wanton meanness that I'd hoped for and anticipated. I was debating how to
begin the conversation, when she relieved me of that duty.

"I'm Leona, and I guess you're Chris. You said that you'd like to wrestle.
What exactly do you want? We could fantasy wrestling, where we just play at
it, or we could go all out and wrestle for real. You look fit, but I'm
reasonably strong and I've done this for nearly 10 years now, so I should be
able to keep up to you as long you take it a bit easy."

"Well, this is my first time wrestling with a woman, but its always been my
fantasy to go up against one who could give me a real battle. Could we try
going all out for a while and see how it goes. Then afterwards, I'd like you
to try some holds on me and see if you can keep me from escaping. I've always
thought I'd like the feeling of being rendered helpless by a woman. And if you
do get me tied up so that I can't escape, and I say that I give, well... don't
be in too much of a hurry to let me go, if you know what I mean."

"Oh yes I know exactly what you mean. I've been in this business quite a
while. You brought wrestling shorts, did you?"

"Yes. I've already got them on under my clothes."

"Good. Then you can change right here in the living room. As soon as you're
ready, you can go into the guest room over there. It's set up for wrestling.
Now, do you want me to select my outfit myself or do you want to decide? I can
wrestle in top and shorts, a two piece outfit, or go topless if you want. Your
choice."

Now in all my fantasies, I'd never considered my opponent topless. I guess
that showed my inexperience. However Leona appeared to be reasonably well
endowed, and wrestling her topless had more than a little appeal. "Topless, "I
said with some embarrassment" if you wouldn't mind."

"Not at all." she said, laughing at my discomfort. "It might distract you a
bit, and help me win. I'll be back in about 5 minutes."

I quickly doffed my jeans, shirt, shoes and socks, and made my way to the
guest room. The only furnishings were a few overlapping wrestling mats that
completely covered the floor area. It was relatively small, a converted
bedroom, but plenty big enough for what we would need.

ROUND 1

In fact round 1 would turn out to be the only round.

Leona soon appeared, dressed in a plain blue bath robe. The glasses were
missing, and that gave her a more attractive and a more athletic look. She
untied the sash on the robe, dropped it seductively off her shoulders, folded
it, and placed it in a corner. Then she stood there before me, essentially
naked, clad only in a pair of pink underwear, and exhibiting more skin and
black than I'd seen in my lifetime. One wouldn't call her fat by any means,
but no ribs would show through what extra padding she carried, and her arms,
though not sculpted, were sizeable enough. Though she gave the impression of
being solid, she could just as easily be out of shape, or at least femininely
soft. And I would have preferred someone more muscular.

In bare feet, she was a couple inches shorted than I was; but she was compact
and could easily weigh as much as I did. Her breasts were medium large and
firm, but the nipples, long and rigid and surrounded by deep purplish
aureoles, were outstanding (no pun intended). They quickly became the focus of
my attention, though I tried hard not make my admiration noticeable. Perhaps
they did prove the distraction that Leona had joked about, because I failed to
note, until it was too late, that her supposedly 'padded' abdomen, carried its
excess cushioning with no visible sag or paunch.

We locked up, hands on shoulders, and pushed and shoved for a minute or two,
testing each others strength and looking for openings. Then it was all over in
seconds.

With surprising quickness, she broke our clinch and dove low and inside,
wrapping her arms about my upper thighs. Now I've seen enough amateur
wrestling to know that I had to straighten my legs and lean forward over her
back to take away her advantage. However she had me too high up and was
already driving hard with her legs. I found myself being forced irresistibly
backwards, and pedaling desperately in reverse to keep from being flipped over
onto my back. My shoulders met the wall with some force, and while I stood
there in her grasp, contemplating my options, she suddenly lifted me a few
inches off my feet, and simultaneously turned me towards the center of the
room and drove me down and hard onto the mat.

My back hit with some force, and as I lay there stunned, my opponent quickly
moved up on my body. By the time I had recovered enough to fight, her hands
were already locked about my wrists and her weight was pressing heavily onto
my chest. I thrashed about violently, trying to manoeuver myself from under
her, but her weight was high on my body, and she now had her legs wrapped
around one of my thighs in a death grip that prevented me from turning my
body. Although my arms weren't pinned down, her hands were fiercely locked
onto my wrists, and seriously limiting the movement of my arms. Occasionally,
as I struggled, I would break one hand free of her grip, but she would
skillfully manoeuver her body against mine to keep me pinned while she worked
at recapturing the wrist. She was good and I could finally appreciate the 10
years of experience that she had claimed.

I might have been in shape, but I wasn't in wrestling shape. She forced me to
work against her weight, and struggling against the considerable bulk of a
large and strong woman proved exhausting. I soon gave in to her dominance and
quit fighting in order to recoup my strength and to plan a strategy.
Apparently she had no intention of calling a truce, however. Taking advantage
of my lethargy, she slid her body upwards and sideways on mine. I remained
passive as she did this, partly through exhaustion, but mostly because I
assumed she was giving me a break and surrendering her superior position.
Instead, she looped her left leg over my right arm, pulled the arm hard up
into her crotch, and locked her thighs tightly around it. Then with her body
draped over my chest and shoulders, and a pink panty clad hip thrust
uncomfortably against my chin, she grabbed my left wrist with both hands and
stretched the arm to its full extent to the side.

A couple of token struggles, arching my back and straining, proved that I was
powerless. I have never felt so weak and helpless in my life. I had 180 lbs of
black female sprawled across my throat and chest, and my arms were both out of
commission. Imprisoned beneath her like that, her mass engulfed me and became
my universe. She was latched onto my body with the tenacity of a leach, and
her hot, sweaty flesh crushed uncomfortable down on me. It was suffocating.
Her absolute control and the proximity and heat of her bulk magnified both her
size and my feelings of impotence. I'd been so quickly beaten and immobilized
that there had been no possibility of enjoying her domination. So far I'd
found nothing sexy in wrestling this Amazon, only helplessness and
frustration. In fact I was presently experiencing an acute case of
claustrophobia, and had to struggle to keep panic from setting in.

"I give." I said weakly, knowing that I had little choice.

"I know you do." she replied. "You're a weak, puny male. Surrender accepted."

But she made no accompanying effort to surrender the hold, and I quickly
regretted asking her to prolong any confinement she might employ. Instead, she
suddenly wrenched my left arm up and backwards, bending it painfully at the
elbow, and forcing it back and under my head, where she latched onto the wrist
with her left hand. I tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but couldn't move the
arm at all. Bent like that, it could produce little leverage, and she could
easily control it with the one hand.

"I guess I should have explained better before we began." she said sweetly.
"But you see, there's nothing I relish as much as the domination of a young
strong stud. So I really get off keeping you captive like this, and the less
you like it, the more erotic I find the situation. See the clock on the wall
over there. We've been wrestling for exactly three minutes now, and I intend
to keep you pinned like this until your time is up. I always give full value
for your money. However I'm afraid that most of the fun is going to be mine. I
should be paying you instead of the other way around. Nevertheless I expect
you'll soon discover whether you really do enjoy female domination, because
you're going to get a lot of it from here on in, and there's nothing you can
do about it. If you are a true submissive, you'll like my authority. If you
aren't...well, too bad. Then you'll be glad that you only took 30 minutes and
were too cheap to pay for the full hour?"

"Please let me go," I pleaded in a weak voice that even embarrassed me. I was
hot and uncomfortable beneath my tormentor. Her weight was becoming unbearable
and my right arm was being squeezed so tightly that it was losing all feeling.
Panic was beginning to set in. "I really don't want to do this anymore."

"Oh how I like to hear them beg." she sighed. "But we girls have fantasies
too, you know. And keeping your strong, young, muscular, male body helpless
beneath mine is one of them. Isn't it ever so erotic? Perhaps, though, you're
interested in a little sexual play while you wait? What do you think? I could
force you, you know, but I have principles and won't go that far unless you
want me to. It's your call.

"What do you mean?" I asked, but I was a typical male, and suddenly alert, my
discomfort suddenly forgotten.

"Well for starters, I might let you use your tongue to play with my nipples.
Then we might see what comes after that." And she twisted sideways to allow
her upper breast to come within range of my mouth. I didn't need a second
invitation. My tongue darted out to tease and fondle the rubbery gift
proffered, and I was more than pleased to feel it stiffen noticeably and to
hear her breathing deepen and intensify with my efforts. Then I felt her right
hand, that had been freed of its role in my confinement lightly begin to
explore my stomach, chest and ribs. I have always been ticklish and began to
squirm delightfully to her touch.

We were both enjoying the mutual stimulation, when Leona stepped it up one
notch further. I felt her fingers moving slowly downwards, and realized that
they were reaching under the waist band of my shorts. I inhaled deeply with
the anticipation of what she intended. Then her hand surrounded and seized my
now massive erection, and I let out an audible, but involuntary moan.

"Yes or no." she said simply.

"Oh yes. Please, please. I can't stand it any longer."

"Then get back to work with that excellent tongue of yours, or you'll leave
here with one very angry mistress and some serious misery on your part."

I eagerly drew her nipple into my mouth and kept it a willing prisoner while I
sucked and my tongue teased and tormented. Her hand began a firm but gentle
stroking of my sex, causing an unbearable pleasure. My body writhed in her
grasp and I heard myself mewing and whimpering like a child. Her thighs
tightened painfully on my arm and her sex began to grind fiercely against my
shoulder.

I came much more quickly than my captress, and then had to endure real agony
in my arm for a considerable time while she used and abused it for her own
pleasure. And when she finally came, she came explosively, her body rocking
and straining to dredge every ounce of pleasure possible from my miserable
corpse. She was a strong woman, and as she climaxed, I was afraid she might
tear off my arm, or drive my miserable carcass right through the mat with her
enthusiasm.

For a couple of moments, I really thought she was going to injure me. My
shoulder felt like it was about to dislocate. Eventually, however, I felt her
body relax, and the discomfort in my arm lessened considerably. Overall the
pleasure of being taken by her had far overwhelmed my discomfort, but now I
felt embarrassment over the mess on my stomach from my orgasm. And it didn't
lessen my humiliation, when she wiped her hand off on my shorts.

We could both see the clock, and a mere 12 minutes of my appointment had
expired. True to her word, she kept me pinned beneath her for the remainder of
the allotted time. I had been beaten quickly and convincingly in wrestling,
and then practically raped; but for the rest of the time that she held me
captive, she chatted amiably on the most casual and mundane topics, like we
were friends out for an evening, and totally ignored my recent humiliation,
and her magnificent victory. The last part of the session proved particularly
uncomfortable. Her weight bore down oppressively, and with no air conditioning
in the room, her body was too warm a blanket for a hot summer's day. The small
fan that circled overhead was too feeble to provide real relief, but
sufficient to provide cooling evaporation of the dampness on my shorts and
stomach, and consequently a continuing reminder of its embarrassing presence.

She invited me to come back, and seemed generally eager that I would. As a
young, proud male who had just been humiliated and ravished in the worst
manner possible, you can appreciate that I wanted nothing more than another
chance at this woman. The sex had been OK, but the need of redemption for my
manhood burned my soul, and made me lust after a rematch. For weeks
afterwards, replaying the match in my mind would lead to feelings of acute
sexual frustration and an immediate physical response. God how I wanted to get
back at her. I fantasized dominating this woman and feeling her body
imprisoned beneath mine.

However it was not to be. I was in my last year of college, and long before I
could save enough 'escort' money, I was offered a job in a different city and
moved away. Six months later, when I tried to contact her, she had also moved
and I lost track of her.

I'll never know if I could have beaten Leona in rematch, and this still
bothers me years later. In my mind, I attribute her success to my being
unprepared for her aggression, but I have some trouble convincing myself that
the result would have been any different. I have wrestled other women since,
and lost once or twice, but I have never been taken so thoroughly by surprise,
beaten so quickly, or dominated so completely as that first time.