No you did not




I didn't expect P to be facing me in an opponent match, not after the "ifs"
that the arranger had given me,

"If she's available"

"If she's free"

"If time constraints permit"

"No cameras permitted."

All my answers were being shot down one by one, but still I found myself on
the mat with P, one by one against one on our knees. "Start the action," she
said, the blond director with the storyboard. I had no idea what the
storyboard held, though I thought it would test my tolerance as I'd just been
worn down by a pair of alternating gambits before I'd gotten this far along.
The 'gambits' were a last minute introduction of a pair of girls that I might
like to wrestle. I thought that I would like to wrestle them, yet they were
resolved to the idea of simply beating up on me. These girls were pretty,
athletic, firm, feminine, and had weight and size that intrigued me. They were
gorgeous women in their early twenties or late teens who had the stamina of
inexhaustible enthusiasm, athletic bodies each a little bigger than I, and a
real desire to convince me about their attitudes toward domination. The girls
had readily agreed to my rules set and were just coyly awaiting approval for a
light two on one match. The supposedly light match quickly became a struggle
to survive intact because anytime I slacked off, those two women would begin
to tighten up their holds and moves to punish me. I had to go nearly all out
just to maintain enough standing against each of them in turn to prevent my
shameless annihilation by whichever one was against me at the time. I worked
my hardest just to maintain distance and standing in this supposedly friendly
match to keep each from totally overwhelming me. The first girl would get me
in a body scissors, and I quickly learned that if I didn't break it right away
I was going to have it perfected and tightened until I might not be able to
break free at all that day. The second girl might maneuver for a chest pin but
if I didn't pay attention she would quickly then be sitting on my face with my
arms expertly stretched out beneath her knees. I had to fight every moment not
to succumb to that slippery slope of female dominance. If I ever cleared my
head even a moment, the other would tag in, fresh and ready to show me just
how well she was matching up one on one. As it was, they were mainly content
to terrify me sometimes with suffocation or squeezing holds from which I could
not break free, and to take me to the edge of panicked tapping. Perhaps by bad
chance I had chosen or agreed to be teamed against two girls who each
outweighed me by a little and despite my claims of propensity had better
wrestling skills each than I. The main event was Petra, so I was only served
up to these vixens only to maim and wear down a little in advance of the main
action. Each of these beauties though had a small agenda of her own, liking
the pure taste of hard won victory, and wanting to wipe out 'Mike the Great'
on video camera. I resisted as best I could for the better part of half an
hour as I wrestled each of them in turn as they tagged each other in, a
whirlwind of unstoppable energy of arms and legs, but by the end of the match
which spilled over the time clock they double teamed me. At that point I was
dead tired and it was impossible to resist the pretty gladiators from breaking
my spirit and my pride. As introductory wrestlers they weren't intended to
completely put me away in a crumpled, woman beaten, begging, sort of mode so
that I could not continue on that evening, but their pride would not let them
let me off too easily either. After using their powerful sexy bodies to put me
through an embarrassing and humiliating demonstration of what two versus one
could do, they decided to wind up their portion of the night's entertainment
and bring my fun with them to an end. Since they had me in a double head and
body scissors with their two pair of supple legs, and had my arms tied up to
helplessness, these beautiful athletes put on just a little show, making it
clear to everyone that I really, really had to give up because of their holds
and the pain, and then making sure that I really, really knew that my giving
up was for real and very sincere. I pretty well realized as the action
sequence next started for the cameras, in the real clips that followed as I,
II, III, and IV developed; the action hero of Mike was pretty well assured of
100% annihilation by a female wrestler. I had proposed this challenge
originally as a way to find a big woman who could wrestle me very strongly. I
didn't want a fake give up or make believe female who outwrestles a weaker boy
event with its ramifications of accepted stupid dominance pretend, so I always
arranged my matches with a good story line victory outlined if the girl did
well against me, a little extra if she did extremely very well, and a mutually
accepted somewhat invisible line that she could cross if she were able to
define her complete breakdown of me in wrestling prowess. Depending on my mood
and financial state I might state the prize as several hundred dollars give or
take or more, but the issue and essence to me was always that it was not so
much the monetary prize for the girl and I, but the daring of the allowance
that I had given her, to beat me within our rules to the point of extreme and
sustained tears if she only had the physical ability and found it in herself
to do so. I liked the gamble, the exposure to risk I had taken when I set out
the rules, found a bigger, younger, and potentially stronger female gal and
promised her large rewards for taking her time and initiative to obliterate me
in a way that I did not think could be accomplished. The prize stated was
fair, but was nearly impossible to really win because no woman would have the
durability and endurance to be fresh enough for inventive discipline if she
ever finally reached the exhausting point of making me give. Further, the
rules remain so constrictive that only direct overpowering is rewarded, no
fine martial art tricks are allowed to be entertained. I wrote the rules,
perhaps not really taking much of a chance daring myself against women because
I removed so much of the skill levels of common choke holds and arm bar moves.
This all stopped and ceased to matter when I encountered a very big girl who
had the physical ability to stop me and who made the mental decision that I be
her slave if she wished.

That day, in the afternoon, I had gotten to where I could not effectively
fight back. I was too weak and cowed. P had set herself up to win my offered
top prize of twenty minutes or more of tears. Most girls hope to go for this
ghost prize, which seems to evaporate as they get further and further in the
battle against me and realize that I will not go down willingly. P not only
had a pre beat down plan, but had scheduled those two pre exhaustion wrestlers
for me in the hours ahead of our meeting, and a highly professional camera
crew pacing among the well placed stand lighting. Anyway, when P faced me she
knew that between the audience, camera, and my own foolish bet that she'd win
big to wrestle fairly and then unfairly dominate. She had demanded I place my
own small two hundred dollar offering for her total unblemished, unrestricted
victory by my own suggested stupid rules on the mantle place. Doing that
pretty well granted her absolution going forward toward a win. She wanted to
hear again that there was no time limit. "Agreed." She asked if it was okay if
some other people contributed to the pot to kind of spur her on and give her
incentive to win. I said that was a great idea, but didn't really think so
when the kettle plainly got up over $3,000 and kept rising. What had I gotten
myself into to?

The camera captured that I didn't last but a split second or two before she
upside downed herself and caught me in a full head log. She smiled thoroughly
between her thighs because she knew, as she rolled me to her side, she got me.
Whatever give and take of the match was thoroughly established, the P girl was
the better wrestler than I, and her tempo was going to be my dance. "Oh, No."
I was expecting a good leg scissors squeeze but instead got a type of warning.
I broke easily, fairly easily, though she converted her hold into a pin. I
knew I was going to give up a little submission with the women's wrestling and
all, but I didn't expect the level of control that I was losing as I backed
her off of me. She rode me about a little bit, adjusting to my bucking and
swaying and then she began to slap across my face. I had known it wouldn't be
a little pitter pat if it came, but P was doing more than that, leaning
forward for leverage and then putting her weight behind each swinging arm. She
wasn't hitting as hard as she possibly could have but was still teaching a
lesson that she was going to ratchet up a notch higher than I thought possible
over my traditional and comfortable thinking. Each slap bit and stung of
course, but more than that, I could not edge away. She had my thorax firmly
pushed by the downward thrust of her perfect posture pin as she sat high on
top of my chest, and she grinded her knees into each of my helpless upper arms
so that they began to ache already early into these first minutes even at the
putting of her relentless 168 lbs. of pressure on my biceps pinned me like I
hadn't imagined before. Well, really I had, but in fantasy I had imagined a
superior wrestler with an on top position only, and I hadn't thought that my
arms would be so dead as this and my shoulders pinned so squarely flat. I
certainly didn't daydream of getting hit so hard by a big woman who was
straddling me in a trapping pin, and was beginning to laugh at my fecklessness
of getting away. She pinioned her muscular, athletic legs more heavily upon my
quietly aching arms and centered her body weight more noticeably directly on
top of mine, and flung a strong muscular arm whistling to me without any
regard how hard it hit. Astonishing was how many times in this particular
episode was the frequency of her blows, measured and planned, placed one by
one against my face and how hard they were, not damaging enough each by one to
be a knockout blow, but yet to be a stunning, hurtful evidence of intent. My
welts and bruises started to develop it is clear already on the video. P was
smart enough to swivel herself out of the way to allow a clear glimpse of my
bruised face which she then moved in to punish another dozen or so hard blows
to be sure she had messaged clearly.

After she had clearly trained me with her face slapping, she moved to plain
obviousness in her video modeling. She planned to trash me with her body
weight, playing to those particular fans in the video audience, generally
pushing me further and further into the mat while she laughed at my ineptitude
of getting away. I lasted out the first bit just fine, but then began to fall
beneath her relentless onslaught of crushing pulchritude. I endured her first
bit of body slamming on me pretty well I'd thought, I hadn't vomited nor given
up, but the patience that she could show as she slammed continuously against
me from her on top position and her bigger weight and size now wore me to
where I could not fight back and I was helpless to whatever the bitch would
decide. I say that word cruelly because that is how she made it for me now,
intending to win the big money prize of hurting and humiliating me, not
worrying how I'd cry. In the video, I'd try to squirm to the side, to go left
or right away from the full frontal assault of the bounces, but she'd bounce,
and bounce again her butt falling hard on top of me with the full force of all
her power and weight against me, with my arms pulled to the outside where they
couldn't find leverage to push against and I'd have to endure the body of a
falling countenance heavy with sarcasm and mockery. My hands were useless
against their firm pinning and my lower body was sectioned in between the firm
thighs that defined the either side of her crotch. I could not get up and go
more than I could decide to become rich, and at that time and I could not
decide to be either. She decided to make me a straw dog in a viewing for her
body weight fans, so she deliberately positioned us before the camera,
rotating our 180 degrees as wanted to get the camera angles and continued to
punish my middle by falls and thrusts and flat intense drops until I was
unabatedly near helpless and without control. If you haven't had this done to
you, this is what it's like, figure a beautiful girl dropping on your stomach
from an invisible shelf two feet above while you can't do anything to stop
her. If this makes you react, and it surely would from all that beautiful girl
falling on top of you, she holds you down and does it again and again. That is
what it is like.

Near helpless for me but not quite is what she wanted at this point, tired,
scared, and worn out beyond any reasonable defense. It didn't matter what
hopeless idea I'd challenge her with, really, she had the ability to run
roughshod over my ideas and trample me within our agreed fair rules with her
powerful body. I tried to settle back to await her next onslaught, yet had to
give up mental balance as she calmly and clearly continued to demonstrate why
heavy duty bouncing could have such effect. I hadn't seen such an excellent
video made before with the emphasis of bigger body weight pounding
relentlessly downward so fantastically. I guess that's why it was so important
to wear me out so clearly and completely, to emphasize the bottoming of her
ass on my hapless stomach so well. Whenever the video camera is running to
effect, the drama may be emphasized and this was no exception. P played to her
video audience that liked the pounding by raising herself an extra bit above
the norm before falling. This worked well for her psych too, besides making
the fall hurt more, lifting higher delayed the administration of an extra few
moments that let the punisher revel a bit longer in her upcoming glee. As it
was she bounced on me quite hard, till I nearly vomited, and only stopped as
she shifted gears to tuck my head between her legs and began to squeeze as I
waved off my total surrender and saw total stars, so she repositioned my head
in her vice grip and began a slow squeeze. A thoughtful reprising of my life's
work was to begin at once, commencing with how I treated wrestling women, and
how I cried and begged. She had no other goal, she declared, as she kept me
trapped, than to win the prize I offered by making me cry. Knowing that she
was strong enough to win it, I tried to bargain it away. "Nothing doing
tonight," I heard her say musically. "You've painted your boat, now you've got
to sail it, maybe." I opened to discuss the maybe and found that was just how
forcefully she was planning to make me cry. I was wrenched in her thighs with
my head just a token to be tossed about at whim. My face was buried toward her
pussy and yet she was treating me like a bad dog. The little bit extra I'd
tried to get away, or maintain my dignity would turn out to be the little bit
extra that she'd hurt me and punish me into humiliation just to be sure my
nose was pushed all the way into the begging tray. I moved my arms to prevent
her legs from crunching my life even further but she easily tied them up in a
pretzel hold, accomplishing her own one-upmanship, and then double clutched
her hard hold on my face, just to send the message clear that I was utterly
trapped. It wasn't enough that I was trapped and held helpless, now I was
going to feel her legs bite into me with full pressure without any means of
stopping them at all. I asked her if I could give. "No," she said, "but I can
make you wish you could." With that P tightened her legs from the controlling
constriction that she had been applying to a more formal hold. She positioned
my face more directly up and down and firmly straightened her legs. The effect
was one of posture, but it did leave me less room to escape. She began to
aggressively tie up my outer arms, and I swerved to keep free. P was a very
strong girl and didn't want to be overpowered. My biggest problem now was the
head scissors. I liked them a lot and I though they were sexy but now she was
crushing in a way that no other person had done in practice or in action. I
tried to put my arms up to take away the action on my head but my hands were
distracted. She lightly relaxed and contracted her scissors hold just to make
sure I knew who was completely in charge. I was in awe as to what might happen
next, I was in unknown territory of control and she didn't seem like she would
be letting go anytime near soon. My face was trapped in her crotch, which was
sexy cool, and my wrestling fetish was being indulged, which should have been
great, but the overboard that I'd wish to take it to had been granted, and the
legs around my head were hard cement and nasty and had been given a
multi-dollar bonus to make me cry. I yelled aloud as more pressure than I'd
ever felt seemed to split my head. I yelled again and louder as she painfully
and with purpose maintained the tightened hold, seemingly without any glimpse
of undue effort. I think I continued my yelling or screaming of pain or mercy
until she lightened her leggy grip enough for me to hear her. "We're not done
with head scissors for today, but let's come back to them later, when you're
more ready."

She asked me if I'd like her to punch my stomach hard. I said no please as a
formality before she sat on my head and rained sharp blows repeatedly to my
lower abdomen. I curled my legs up as protection as I could, but only moved
the punches from my stomach to my ribs. I was relentlessly set after and
didn't know how to counter and then things got worse instead of good.

She clearly didn't want to lose any momentum toward making me afraid of her so
when she brought me forward to her leg scissors she had never really relaxed
the grip of her thighs on my waist from the first place. It wasn't so much a
brand new scissors as a reacquiring of an old established lock in a new
possible way. In any event, she meant to make me scream with it so I did as
she crushed my ribs in a way that I didn't know could give. I frantically
tried to tap out by she just settled back for a relentless pour of the
pressure. I didn't understand why I had agreed to a no submissions match where
I had no bailout if things went wrong, and I didn't know how long that
everyone on the sidelines were going to let this match continue. I did realize
that P seemed to be enjoying herself more and more as she realized how much
she could do and how little I could fight back. She shifted her scissors hold
to more of a side position, giving up the excruciating placement of a frontal
assault, but locking in a difficulty for me to take deep chest breaths. I was
only helpless to watch as she tangled my head into her comfortable breasts,
wrapping her Amazon arms tightly about my neck as she squeezed and squeezed
like the boa constrictors would do, not letting me breathe well, admiring my
purple turn, as she excruciatingly tortured and teased, thinking full well
that I would be about out of strength soon and collapsing in my final
twitches. I didn't think I'd die but I was indeed getting served up as an
offering anyways to my mortality. It seemed clear that P was going to control
my head and upper body and then crush my body with her powerful legs until I
passed out from pain or from lack of air. She didn't care which, nor neither
did the camera, and that was now an issue because even if P would have had
some mercy the camera eye not only did not but was displeased to see anything
less now than my total disgrace below a commanding sexpot. Her thousands of
awaiting victory dollars I now realized hinged upon my total and utter
physical beating to which I had not only agreed but urged and accepted. My
long imagined Amazon fantasy might come true and there was nothing to do about
it running away.

She took a deep breath and tightened her arms grip about my head. I thought I
could see just a moment of caring perhaps in her eyes before she exhaled her
wind and pulled me strongly into her more sharply. I was already weak to pull
in air, now I horribly suspected she meant to kill me. I struggled as hard as
I could but she closed in her performance and I had two massive legs about my
chest that limited me to only three minutes, then two.

"I'm going to choke you out with my leg scissors now," she said. "If you don't
want me to do it, just say please." "Please," I begged. "Please don't hurt
me," I tried to say. I not sure that all the last words were out loud because
P was squeezing again, a smooth crushing that distracted any of my plans and
forced me to deal with only one thing, the pressure around my chest. I tried
to gulp hard and bear up, but she squeezed again more hard and tightened her
grip.

"Ack, ack." I could not get any words out now as my torso was being embraced
so firmly that I could not quite fully breathe. Impossibly, she began to apply
the pressure in her legs at just another level more. I could feel the wide
bands of muscular thighs, thick enough to envelop my chest and back about
completely, and felt myself disappearing into her grip. I was particularly
aware of her top positioned leg which was pressing relentlessly down on my
chest. Her broad leg was like a vise, crushing the air out of me a little more
every time I relaxed, and not letting me have the room between her powers to
breathe back in. She slightly relaxed her entwining control of my head and
arms just enough for me to pull my head away from her bosom but her legs never
let up. In the video you can see my lips turning purple now and a hopeless
expression on my face, not even searching around the room for any help.

She flexed a little harder, or perhaps I was just so much weaker now that she
could easily toy, and my lungs pushed out one more feeble audible gasp. After
that flexing on my chest though, her legs did not relax one bit and I didn't
possess the strength to inhale against her vise. I wanted to inhale but could
not. Just before I blacked out, I began to see stars, became light headed and
pale. The camera shows that she held the squeeze plenty long enough, even an
extra moment or two after I'd been knocked unconscious, just to be certain, I
guess of her clear demonstration.

I awoke the only way I could, gently slapped apart by the straddling fixture
that was P, astride of me and pinning me with her legs as she toyed with
bruises on my face with her curiously waiting arms. It was absolutely unfair
now that P was so clearly dominating me, yet is was described within the fair
rules that she was allowed to do so, and even was encouraged. I didn't think
that it would go this far, a fantasy intruding on myself. I was dragged to a
staggered position beneath her comfortable sitting, with her weight spread
upon my face as she spread her ass heavily on top of me. She was facing my
feet now, the better for which she was going to do. P plopped down squarely on
my face and proceeded to obstruct my breathing. I pushed to one side and tried
to angle my sideways up. Of course it was sexy having that ass in my face, but
she was seriously trying to strangle me with it, or at least choke me out. I
didn't have to wonder. She told me so. "You didn't like being knocked
unconscious in my leg scissors before so I know you won't like being smothered
now. "Too bad that you won't be able to stop me," she said. I felt her vagina
strap close to my lips as she melded her hips heavily and strongly across my
face, holding and pinning me down with her full weight across my head and
torso, with my arms pinioned by her own arms strong grip at my sides. I bucked
with my lower body but it was useless. She did not care if I fought for and
got a sip or two of air, she would just ride me down, until the sips became
more rare and desperate and the struggles became less and less. I had one of
the most spectacular women sitting on my face but because she could expertly
position her wrestling strength and prowess to push her 168 lbs on top of me
at places that I could not push back she pinned me hard against the mat and
the sexiness of it all was largely eclipsed by the glamour that she was
intending to knock me unconscious from lack of air, that she was going to deny
me the right to breathe.

Some people like smothering games. I do not, and P knew it. Still she
persisted in maneuvering me into a head up position with her sitting full
forward with her ass covering my mouth and nose. By the way she had pulled my
wrists to my side and had full grip and weight on top of them, and the
position that her legs had, kneeling to prevent my head from yanking free,
this girl had placed herself dead square on top of me and had taken a casual
approach to how heavily she sat upon me. There was no rush for her. I was the
one who had somewhere to go, in other words I was the one who had to get out
from beneath her and from under. She had all day; to sit on top and shift
around and watch as my position worsened. I tried and tried to reposition
myself as she leaned back into cutting off my oxygen some more. She was facing
my feet, sitting on my head, with my arms tight at my sides. I was trying to
make the situation normal again and somewhat playful as I squirmed aside. I
was docile, acknowledging giving up was clear, but still hoping not to be
called on my pledge to yield so terribly to this higher power. She sat more
readily high and centered on my face and then more anxiously stayed upon it
that I could not budge her one way or that. She sank into my face with her
crotch, grinding back against me, rhythmically teasing as she tortured saying
"Doesn't this feel good?" and "Don't you wish you were enough of a man to stop
me?"

I wish that it hadn't been these rules I'd set up that had her do what she had
to feel she had to convincingly win, or otherwise I'd perhaps just
accidentally given her privilege to do what she might have preferred anyways.
In any event she decided to continue her example of my pass out experience
with an identical episode a few minutes later. I tried to reason her out of it
but could not dissuade her determination to not only interrupt me again but to
do it in just the same face backward sitting way that I had been unable to
stop. I fought her arms and resisted the torque in her body. I arched my back
to slow her legs but she was just too strong and too big for me to cope. I did
my best but by a few minutes time she was on top again and my hands were at my
side. It wasn't supposed to be a smothering match, but the rules allowed it I
guess, and for the second time, she held on and stayed on top and kept bucking
me until I could not get another drop of air and she kept pushing me down,
down, down until she was the clear winner.

Once that hard ordeal was over, it was time for the crying portion. She had
not forgotten that, and the best was yet to come as she mentioned. All was
ready now, as I was completely cowed and terrified and sufficiently out of
endurance to fight back. Perhaps not worn down enough she thought, as she
wanted to place another memory by the fire. P wrapped me from behind in a
sitting position and entangled my arms in a unique grapevine. Leaning back,
she put on the pressure with both her arms and her legs in a subtle way that
would last and last. I gave up right away of course, for the little good that
it would do me, but she kept the hold up many other minutes just to be sure
and wear me out and hurt me. There was to be two more major episodes before
she finally convinced herself that she had me crying and bawling long and loud
enough for her dignity and her prize money. It was to be a thorough spanking
and the most vicious, intense leg scissors that was ever yet to be filmed.

When she was tying me up for the spanking scene I never thought that it would
come to the pain that she hit me with her naked hand within the first few
blows. I had anticipated a friendly type of playfulness, never minding that my
hands were to be secured and that my body was to be bound lightly with cords
and bound still against a wrestling mat. She was to sit on top of me so as to
have proper direction and authority, but she was harsh and I immediately
wanted this part of the game to end. She didn't. We went overboard almost
immediately, as I tried for the match to stop. P didn't stop, she wanted to
explore, within the stupid, stupid fair rules that I had laid out, how much
pain that I would carry before I lost all dignity that I had left. I lost any
pride right away as she hit me so hard that I yelped and grimaced. I gave up
to her immediately once again and begged her to let me go, fat chance. Instead
of a video that had some balance of victor and spoiler, this part was very
lopsided. She pretty well wailed the daylights out of me and I pretty well
cried through the whole thing. I didn't think that a spanking could ever hurt
so intensely and she probably didn't think that she would end up in a position
to hurt someone so long and so hard. I had pretty well lost all control by
now, and was just afraid and amazed by the Amazon on top of me. She, in turn,
seemed to get vitality from her forcefulness and glowed in the spark that such
an intense dominance over another did bring. All in all it was a fortunate
experience for everyone, except me, because the camera angles were
magnificent.

After the spanking session I was already in copious tears. P was herself and
disregarding my abandonment. She was determined to push me a little bit
further still. I was positioned with her legs around my head, in a classic
frontal leg scissors. I immediately gave up and made docile as she had clearly
won against me every step of the way. Here was some of the great, great camera
action of this film. No shadows, no bad angles, and two well positioned mobile
guys making sure that they were silent but encouraging, as they filmed an
idiot someone who was not a submissive in his brain but soon to be made
submissive in his world by a clear request from a female wrestler and along
with a large cash prize.

"Too bad," she said, "You wanted to go with a no submission."

It's true, I had, but that had been a one time decision, not meant to be this
lasting. I tried to wriggle out of her hold but it was firm and she had me at
least at the moment. Her legs tightened around my head. After the other
excesses of the day, I did not think that P would be lightly imagining her
advantage, nor did I think she would hesitate to apply such. P would crush my
head and then proceed to completely crush it, tucking it tight within her legs
and squeezing hard and long so that I would cry and cry aloud, not that she
would care. This is the interesting part on the video, some say, because I
would now enter the special twenty minutes of breakdown that I had long
challenged. It is well argued that the breakdown for me occurred much earlier,
when she was hitting me while straddling me as a simple schoolboy pin and my
face was getting bruised and bloody, or when I was held down and punched in
the stomach while she ran roughshod over my dreams. I don't think that getting
in the ring with such a superior female was good for my ego and I wished that
my fair rules were not so advantageous to whoever came out ahead, without
letting the other person up. I made the rules to my sex vanity and now that
the girl was clearly on top, I was getting the worst of it. It would be good
to allow the person ahead to control the situation, I thought, and as she did
it now she tucked my head more tightly within her legs and squeezed and
squeezed.

There was not anywhere to grasp. I tried to pull at the sides of her legs but
only encountered the firm, full thighs of massive effort. She was determined
and I could not shake her direction, I was trapped and her intent was clearly
to embarrass me, and then to crush me into a whimpering pile of begging pain.
I felt how shapely her thighs were as I futilely tried to relieve some of the
hurting. I felt her calves bite into their locked embrace and felt the tension
ratchet up another notch. My head was locked in her thighs in a classic
wrestling hold but the difference was that P was planning to make me cry and
then keep me crying in this final lock. I knew I could not get out so I just
tried to grovel the best I could. She was not paying any attention to my
protests; she was just starting to cause me tears. Normally a person would
give up immediately to any of her obtained head scissors holds and the match
would cease right away. This was somewhat new ground for P as she typically
didn't have to hold her clutch so long. She had done so in the past of course,
sometimes, fooling around or torturing some impudent challenger, but this was
the first time that she had kept her hold to the point of meanness and
cruelty. I'm sure she thought about her muscles and her power and also the big
reward prize so stupidly promised and so then decided to fully explore my
crying pain. She regripped my head in her thighs, positioning me evenly so as
not to mistake her complete and utter dominance of power and began a
progression toward this crying game. I was tapping out all over the place but
she just wanted me to complete this stupid challenge I had brought upon myself
and reduce me to twenty minutes of tears at the hands of a superior woman. P
was taller than me, and outweighed more by another thirty to forty pounds, and
she had more wrestling skills, and was younger and faster. Now she was proving
that she was stronger and more determined too. I thought that I could pretty
well toss any woman off when the going got tough, but it was not to be. She
pulled my head in closer and teased me about when the pressure would start. "I
could begin now," she said, as she tightened her legs about me, "or I could
start now." I had had women really hurt me with their leg scissors holds
before. Notably I was thinking back quickly to a body builder who just gave me
a taste as I sat in front of her before she went on to her next session. At
that time, I just tapped on her thighs and the pressure ceased. Now P was
inclined to hurt me, to finish me off, to win her big prize of me crying, if
she hadn't clearly won already, by making me agonize in her superior grasp
until I was clearly broken and ashamed. I did not now care that the cameras
were recording eagerly every bitter twist, I was only conscious of my own
predicament that I could not avoid. This big woman P was going to keep on with
her head scissors until she found her clear satisfaction, money in the bank. I
thought I had had begged and cried clear enough, there was not more of me to
give up, but she had other ideas and P had me well trapped clear enough,
perhaps then a little extra money earning her own now devilish pleasure. She
arched her back and began to paint a delicious portrait of pain across me as
she hinted at what she was prepared to do. I tried to unlock her hold but it
was useless. I tried to pull my head out, because it wasn't going to be fun
any longer, but I could absolutely not disengage the thick twin grip of her
legs from her firm grasp about my head. She had me, and she had me good and
tight. I reasoned that the other home videos that were about didn't
necessarily have one in such a helpless position, but that a lot was
exaggeration. I hoped that in spite of my predicament that I would be somewhat
left with my small remaining self in tact. I was mistaken, the big cash prize
that I had left for abject humiliation and forceful pain, thinking that it
would never be met, was capitalized and then doubled by an outside crew who
wanted to be part of a very overdue video beating. P was determined, in spite
of my earlier blathering, to reduce me to a begging fool once again, on
camera, with no doubt left aside that she had crushed me into her handmaiden,
and that she could be cold and relentless even as she smiled at my
insufferable pain. She was so, so, pretty as she locked me down, and so, so
tender as she made sure the scissors was just right about my head. There was
nothing to do but take it as she ratcheted up the pressure, and she wanted to
make me cry so I did, not that I necessarily could have helped it. I was
trapped and locked up in a pretty agony, beautiful shapely legs constricting
my features painfully, beautifully, and I appreciated the dichotomy as I
writhed in that woman's powerful, powerful grasp. I did not want to take away
the sexiness, but I wanted desperately to take away the undue pressure, the
pain above the normal play that I had challenged and then promised to award. P
was a very big girl, compared to me, and she was at the top of her game and
focused now on winning big. I gave a big prize for making me cry in full tears
for twenty minutes or more in a fair fight, and now P with the full view of
the video camera and extra bonuses, was in full plans to win without any
unconvincing doubt. I fought my head in her thighs, but relaxed slightly as
there was no where to go. I put my hands onto her shapely sexy legs and envied
their allure, but she was hurting me now with the tightening grip of overkill.
She was hurting me plainly and was glad and happy to do that. I tried my
hardest to escape her hold, but P had seized firmly and cleanly on me and she
meant to torture me with the disadvantage of her legs. She locked her ankles
and just enjoyed her small, slow torture of me. I didn't know just how to
release to her anymore than I already had. I began to cry again, as I had done
before, but now in a more incautious type of way as I could not imagine any
fight back but was only depending upon a degree of mercy from her to let my
suffering end. She was not in the mood, not with the video cameras filming the
events. I was essentially bare racked and tortured firmly without regard to my
personal indignations but with every attention meant to my sufferings on
camera. P was to be awarded good sums to punish me absolutely while in her
scissors hold grasp and she made very certain that upon review that she would
not miss the last dime. I had to cry aloud as she crushed my head for the
first time, and I had to cry in panic as she repositioned me for further pain,
and finally I had to gently sob, for thirty minutes or more, a bit longer than
I requested, just in case, as she crushed my head again and again, placing my
face between her thighs and daring me, challenging me, to make her stop the
relentless pressure that was to come.

She would push up the pressure in different ways each time she began one of
her mini sessions that she was now concentrating on. For the first
introduction to her thigh crushing show she just made sure that she had a good
stable capture and then just gradually started squeezing tighter and tighter.
I was tapping furiously on her legs with both my hands to signal for release
even though I knew that she wasn't going to let me go very quickly or easily,
but the pain and discomfort was so overwhelming that I was desperately trying
to let her know how badly she was damaging me. She kept increasing the
pressure more and more. I was completely panicking, but helpless, and felt
that my head would surely explode as she applied even more muscle in a steady
increase that didn't seem to have an end to it, and then she held that
posture, with its fully maintained squeeze, for what must have been a couple
minutes or more before releasing me. I lay dazed on the floor, barely
registering that my eyes and ears and senses still worked after the torment
that had been given them. I could see some of the audience silently
applauding, not wanting to intrude on the video and yet spontaneously
outpouring admiration and approval for the incredible head crushing that they
had just seen. P didn't wait for me to recover or even to come to my knees.
"Let's go again," she said, and advanced toward me and quickly threw a leg
wrap around my head and dragged my face tight down into her crotch. "No,
wait," I tried to say, but it was lost in a muffle as P already had her
muscular, meaty thighs enveloping me and starting a new round of death grip.
There was such a big difference in our sizes, height, weight, and fitness
level I would not ever possess. She'd sometimes abandon my head to an escape
just to lock it up in an inescapable vise again. She enjoyed this, or at least
played to the audience like she did, and made sure that she kept me in the
prison hold an extra minute or so more and squeezed a little bit harder yet
along the way to get across the idea to me that we had a long way yet to go.
The next time that she tucked my head between her thighs she opted for waves
of pressure instead of one long slow squeeze. I didn't like this any better
and of course she was scaring me with the randomness of the onslaughts. She
would suddenly compress like mad for either a short of long burst that would
happen who knew when and so I was completely caught up in frightening cycle of
agony that was inevitable but unpredictable and so was all the more terrible
to fear. For the final part of this segment, P made sure that all the
aficionados who liked to see a woman humble a man would find this portion
unforgettable. She told me how she was going to place my head in her leg
scissors, and that it was going to be the strongest and longest that she had
ever tried. I tried to get away from it of course, which makes the video all
the more fascinating, as I was completely disheveled and already begging and
blubbering as I tried to talk my way out. The way she relentlessly advanced
past my protests, ignoring any doubts of compassion or sportsmanship and
proceeded to physically bully me without regard is a stone testimony to pure
female domination at its best. She methodically placed my head in her crotch
and locked her legs at the ankles. I knew, and probably the audience knew what
was coming next, and she did not disappoint. My face was not so much buried
into her pussy this time, for she wanted to hear my anguished groans. I was
still rolling tears by the time my head was locked in, both from the previous
punishments and from what was next sure to come, but she quickly managed to
find for me a whole new level of wailing as she began to demonstrate again
just how cruel a inescapable head scissors could be. I had my hands on her
full thighs but my hands couldn't begin to pull away the pressure. My lower
body was thrashing about but with her strongly positioned leverage and her
weight advantage I was going absolutely nowhere. She leaned back now and then,
stretching her body and flexing her thighs and then sometimes she'd settle
forward a little and seem to tighten the muscles in her calves. Whenever she
did any of these things, it seemed to hurt me more and more, or at least not
any less, and she seemed prepared to settle in for the long haul, keeping me
in a perpetual state of leg torture as she ran out the film in the camera.
Then a point happened when you made sure that I could read her lips if not
hear her words as she very distinctly said, "I'm going to hurt you a lot now."
There was nothing I could do to prevent it, and I was almost thanking that the
suffering would soon be over for me. She was playing to both me and the camera
now and so tucked my face up that extra few inches against her skin and
started a relentlessly endless vice-like grip that had no possible outcome but
to have me knocked out from the pain and pressure. Ah, but first I had to
suffer for some more time longer and thoroughly before I got there. She was
turning up the power inexorably but slowly when one knock out burst would
surely do the job. She was either getting a real thrill now from this brutal
crushing of me or she was an accomplished actress because anyone watching this
video can see her calm collected look smiling with pleasure even as she hurt
me more and more. This was a classic frontal head scissors posture that I was
locked into, with my sandwiched head resting on her bottom leg while her top
leg completed the trap. The classical look that head scissors fans adore was
enhanced by the size and strength mismatch as her current pose displayed her
strong feminine physique while my own frail skinny body sprawled helplessly
before her. I was not able to have any chance to do anything but suffer as she
proudly demonstrated her role as an Amazon demolisher of small men and their
great egos. She turned up the pressure more and more even as I began to see
stars and my thoughts started to grow numb. There was no stopping her, she was
going to knock me out now and whether that would be something I would be
fighting or not, it was something she was going to do. She didn't give one
extra strong thrust to ease me over, just a relentless crush, crush, crush,
until I remembered no more.

(c) 1/2/2011