by Alpesco
The six foot two blonde amazon faces a new test.
The six foot two inch tall blonde stretched her long, hard body, reaching up her left hand to an overhanging branch three feet above her. Karen Sandwood was about to exercise her arms. Her hand gripped the branch tightly and she began to flex her long arm. I watched, transfixed, as the big muscles rippled and hardened along her arm, pulling her whole chiseled one hundred and eighty pound bodyweight easily up off the ground. She continued her slow, powerful flex until her chin had been raised three inches above the branch and her feet were dangling nearly three feet above the ground. She hung there for a moment, flexing her free right arm for effect, then she lowered herself to full extension, repeating the process eleven more times as I watched. It
was almost
hypnotic watching the thick muscles of her arm swell and coil as
they raised and lowered her body. Dropping to the ground, she
stretched her big arms wide, then she repeated the exercise, this
time using just her right arm. Now that she was using her
stronger arm she did more reps, completing eighteen strict pull-ups
without even looking tired. Karen liked to do one arm pull-ups.
It was one of her favorite exercises.Turning to face me, she stretched out her sleeveless arms and flexed them, enjoying the effect that this display of her power had on me. I couldn't hide the fact that her power turned me to jelly inside. I'd never met a young woman who was so much stronger than most trained men. Her biceps and shoulder muscles were huge! Her arms seemed big, even for someone her height of six foot two, but when she tensed them, two huge biceps erupted from her upper arms. Each was bigger than any bicep I'd ever seen up close. They were like two large cannonballs rising beneath the skin. Sandwood towered above me. I stood five feet seven inches tall. She was six feet two - a sunglass-wearing amazon in cut-off jeans and a small black sleeveless top.She had a serious face beneath straggly blonde hair. Her cut-off jeans emphasized the shape and power of her long legs, with their flaring muscles. Compared to her powerful legs, her waist was slender, her torso widening sharply as it rose toward broad shoulders and long, muscular arms.
At twenty eight, I was about the same age as the young woman who had brought us here to this isolated mountain farmstead. My boyfriend, Vince, was thirty seven. Sandwood was only four inches taller than him, and weighed about the same, but her strength was on a whole other level! I had seen her pick Vince up and just press him overhead like he was a five year-old kid! Even both of us together were no match for her speed and steely strength - strength that she had built up in twenty years of trainng. She had kept us here against our will for over ten weeks. Sandwood had cut us off from contact with the world simply because she had decided that it was too risky to let us return to our home in the city now that we knew the location of her squatter homestead way out here in the mountains. And her claim to the twenty square miles of wilderness that she had chosen was not an idle one. She was easily strong enough to enforce her claim to own and occupy this land against all comers. The few people who lived in the valleys round about already knew far better than to challenge her.
Karen walked over to a three foot tall crate that Mitch, a drifter she allowed to live in a cabin lower down her mountain, had carried up that morning. The crate had been heavy. It was solidly made of inch thick wood and two inch thick struts, but Karen was in no mood to bother with hammers or crowbars. She gripped the edges of two struts, and her big arm muscles swelled. At first there was no movement, but then I began to hear the growing sound of creaking and then of cracking wood. As I watched, the whole timber crate began to crack and tear. I stood and stared as Karen's strong arms simply ripped the box apart, the inch thick wood splitting like cheap pasteboard as her hands wrenched it open. She let go of what had been the crate edges, letting the broken shards of wood fall to the ground. Inside what remained of the crate was a plastic bag full of protective styrofoam, and inside that was a piece of electronic equipment.
"I've wanted to get hold of one of these for a long time,' she said, lifting the fifty pound piece of equipment out of its container as easily as if it had been a foam-rubber bolster. She placed it on the wooden table in the cabin porch. "One of my contacts has been looking out for one of these for some time," she said. "It's a geosatellite scanner. It's not working, but I can soon fix that." She strode into the cabin and brought out a box of electrical tools and a thick manual.
"What does it do?" I asked, looking across at Vince who was doing some digging that Karen had ordered him to do on the far side of the clearing. Vince still wanted to escape, but until he found the perfect plan, he didn't dare disobey Karen at all now. Karen Sandwood ruled this mountain with complete power, and the penalties for angering her were just too severe.
"This will show me the precise location, anywhere in the western USA or Canada of anything marked with one of these chips," she said, unscrewing a panel and starting to inspect the circuit boards. "If I use the right codes it will show me the location of every single police and special services vehicle, and I can place chips on people like you and your boyfriend that will let me know exactly where you are at any time, accurate to within three feet. Ah. That's what's wrong." She took out a replacement circuit board and began to solder the tiny connections between the diodes. Karen's hands were surprisingly nimble and dextrous. I was impressed that hands could punch a hole through an inch thick wooden crate, and rip it apart like matchwood could also do such intricate work
Within thirty minutes the unit was up and working.
"Where did you learn to do that?" I asked.
"I've made sure to learn a lot of survival skills," she said. "Not just hunting, unarmed combat, basic medicine, weapons skills, but a load of other things too." she carried the unit into the house. "I'll set it up this afternoon."
Just then there was the sound of crashing and whinnying from somewhere beyond the clearing in the trees. Karen broke into a jog as she went toward the sound to investigate. I followed as the crashing continued, along with the sound of falling timbers. We emerged into another small clearing where Karen had bult some wooden pens to hold hogs and other livestock that were normally allowed to forage the woods. At the far side, I saw a big man on horseback. He was running his horse into the fences and kicking away at them. Man and horse combined had already knocked down a few yards of fencing.
"Stop that!" Karen yelled. She could shout real loud when she wanted to, and her voice echoed around the clearing, startling the horse.
"Who are you?" the man glared at us angrily. His face was heavy and covered in thick stubble. 'You've no right to have these fences here. My horse almost broke his leg!'
"That's your fault," Karen said. 'This is my land. Get off it now!"
"They told me there were squatters up here," the man said, urging his horse toward us. "My boss is going to have to get the authorities in and get you trash cleaned out."The large horse came right up to us and the rider turned it side-on into Karen in an attempt to drive us back into the fence.
But Sandwood stood her ground. Bending suddenly, she seized the horse's near-side rear leg in her arms. Turning away and pulling upward and outward, she forced its hoof up off the ground as if to examine it. Her big biceps swelled.as her arms flexed, forcing the horse's slender leg higher and higher. The horse was beginning to struggle now, trying to free its leg from her unexpected steely grasp, but Sandwood knew exactly what she was doing and exactly how strong she was. She was bracing one of her strongest muscle groups against the weakest of the horse's leg muscles.
"What are you doing?" the rider shouted in surprise and alarm.
Karen said nothing as her brutally powerful arms continued to flex. The horse began to whinny, staggering as it tried, to balance on its one rear leg as Karen increased her upward force. It struggled, but it couldn't break free. I saw Sandwood's face concentrate. Her biceps hardened in a seizmic contraction, as she applied a burst of strength to the trapped leg. There was a dull, ripping crack as her arms wrenched sharply upward, and the horse's leg twisted unnaturally! With a startled scream, the horse toppled over onto its side, falling heavily to the ground as it spilled its rider onto the grass.
Karen's arms released the injured leg as she took two quick steps backward to avoid the thrashing hooves. She glowered darkly at the horse and rider.
I gasped. She was so strong! I almost had orgasms looking at what her long, muscular arms had done.
The horse was writhing on the ground, trying to get back up. She'd hurt it, with just her bare arms. It was finding it very difficult to get back up. Before it could do so, Karen took five swift strides around it, bending to grab the fallen rider by his jacket collar. I could see by the look on her face that for him the next few seconds were going to be very very bad.
Dragging the stranger to his feet with her left hand, she lashed four huge punches in to the big man's head and body. Karen could hit so hard! Once her first solid punch had struck home eighty percent of her opponent's capacity to resist had been taken away. The guy was in a world of shock at the pain. Giddy and disorientated by that first shattering punch, there was nothing more he could do. It was appalling to watch. His head crashed back like a punch bag, the shape of his face distorting as her heavy fists hit their target with appalling force. Gutteral groans were driven from his throat as his body buckled and was bent double by the power of Sandwood's punches. Seeing a guy take the full force of Karen's anger was shocking. His face was a mess. There was blood everywhere. He was shocked, weakened, rocking and staggering.
After the fourth punch, Karen paused. I could see that she was deciding whether to put in a few more, but he looked pretty much broken by her first four punches. Her fists were tightly balled, her dominant arms ready to put in the same again. "Where are you from and who sent you here?" she asked.
"I can't say..."
KRACKK! Karen's right arm moved with eye-blurring speed, and with enormous force. The blow caught him beneath the left side of his jaw, seeming to lift his whole body up with it, and driving him back five paces. He crashed into a fence which seemed to be the only thing holding him upright.
"Where are you from?" Sandwood asked again, using exactly the same tone of voice she had used just a moment before.
"From Edgeback Heights," the stranger gasped in a quivering, frightened voice. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. Please don't hit me any more!"
Karen seemed totally unsurprised at the effect of her five punches. She knew how brutally strong she was. She could have knocked him out with just one powerful punch if she'd wanted to. Instead, she had finely-tuned her punches. Finely-tuned was an odd word to use when you hit with the appalling force that Karen Sandwood had just done, but it was true all the same. Karen had calculated her punches to stun, to bewilder and to inflict shocking levels of pain, but not to send him into unconsiousness just yet. I was only just beginning to realise just how expertly Karen Sandwood could use her prodigious strength.
"So what are you doing here?" she asked, "Who sent you, and why?"
"I was sent by Kurt Cleaver," the man said, clinging to the wooden fence to try to remain on his feet as blood streamed down his face, dripping off his chin. "He wanted me to find out who lived up here and to report back to him."
"Why?" Karen asked.
"He breeds horses down there, and was thinking of using some of the land up here."
"So why were you breaking down my fences?"
"I thought they were old squatter fences, honest."
"Okay. I'll take you back and check on your story." Karen stretched forward her right hand, clamped it on his neck and squeezed gently, forcing him into unconsciousness.
Leaving him slumped on the ground, she looked across to the horse. It had managed to get back on its feet, but was limping badly at the edge of the clearing. "I think we'd better take the truck," she said, turning back to her fallen foe.
She squatted
beside him, and the big arms that had just beaten the crap out of
him now lifted his unconscious body up off the ground like a
plaything. She straightened, cradling him in her arms, then
tossed the floppy body nearly a foot in the air as she rearranged
the two hundred pound burden in her arms. It was like this guy
was just a toy to her, one that she could do whatever she liked
with. She was in complete control. 
Shocked by the
unexpected power of this blow, from a creature barely a tenth of
its body weight, the horse staggered backward, neighed and reared.
Sandwood backed off two steps until it came back down. Then she
took one stride forward and...
