College Vs. Session Wrestler, Part Two
By brooksie brooksie@pacificcoast.net
A pair of college wrestlers are invited to an underground fetish club on "fight night".


Not much was said on the way back to the hotel. I guess neither of us were
comfortable talking about it in the cab, but once we were in our room, we
started imagining what we might be getting ourselves into. The intrigue of
going to some unmarked place off of an alley fuelled our speculation. I was
pleasantly surprised to find Karen actually getting into it. She actually
seemed excited by the prospect of going to an underground fetish club. I
thought this might be good for her and frankly, for us. I loved Karen deeply
but she was a rather straight laced sexually. It wasn't that I was exactly
"super-freak" myself, but I was interested in spicing things up. I thought
university and a big city like Vancouver would be a good influence on her in
that regard, but it hadn't seemed to have much effect on her, at least not so
far. However, tonight seemed like it had the potential to "fast-track" things.
Whatever happened, I figured we were in for an memorable evening.

We got dressed to go out for dinner. Karen was spectacular. Her short, blonde
hair was set off by the sparkly black dress she had on. The dress was
back-less and designed to show off her muscular shoulders and thick, wide
back. Watching her thigh muscles flex as she walked and seeing her powerful
looking calves accentuated by a the high heeled shoes she was wearing made me
want to skip dinner and jump her bones right there. However, I managed to get
myself under control and we made our way down to the street, heading for a
seafood restaurant near the hotel that had been highly recommended. Dinner was
excellent and since it was beautiful night, we decided to walk for a bit
before getting a cab to take us to the address on the card Shanice had given
us. It turned out to be in a small, commercial strip. At 9:30 pm, all the
shops were closed and everything seemed dark and quiet. We got out of the cab
and looked around. It was just as Shanice had described. We found the hat shop
and took a few steps down the alley until we spotted the black door and the
sign above it. It was hard to find the buzzer. Like the door, it was painted
black. If I didn't know to look for it, I'd have had no idea it was even
there. We looked at each other nervously as I pressed the button.. There was a
small set of bars on the door, about where a knocker might have been and
behind them, a sliding window. A voice from behind the door asked for our
member's card and Karen pushed the guest pass between the bars. A large, dark
hand took it from her and a few seconds later, the door swung open. As we
stepped through, we were face to face with the doorman, a rather sizeable
black fellow who looked a lot like "Mr. T" from the old TV show "The A Team",
only without the mohawk haircut. He stamped our hands with the image of a
horse and we climbed up the stairs.

At the top, we took a moment to get our bearings. I wasn't surprised to find
the room mostly black as well - walls, ceiling, tabletops etc. even the wait
staff wore black as did the coat check girl, whose sexy, provocative outfit
looked to be made of latex or some other type of form-fitting, rubber like
material. As Shanice had promised, the place was quite full, not jam-packed
but there sure wasn't a whole lot of available space. Karen and I found a
table near the back, next to the hallway leading to the bathrooms - not
exactly prime real estate, but we were happy just to have a place to sit at
all. Once seated, I took a closer look around. There was a lot of
dominatrix-type stuff adorning the walls...whips, cuffs and other restraint
devices plus a lot of stuff I that I wasn't sure what purpose of, although it
wasn't hard to imagine.

The table arrangement was configured around an large, square platform in the
middle, about three-and-a-half feet high that I later found out rose right out
of the floor, so the area could double as a stage and a dance floor. It was
set up like a boxing ring but instead of canvas, it was covered with mats and
had thick, padded turnbuckles that were covered in vinyl, or something
similar. There were two thick ropes outlining the perimeter and a narrow
corridor around the ring was also roped off, separating it from the front row
of tables. There were also a number of televisions around the bar and some
were showing one of the pro wrestling programs. I knew these would hold no
interest for Karen, as she detests that stuff. But when I looked at her I was
surprised to find her eyes fixed to one of the screens. I followed her gaze
and noticed this TV was showing something different. It was a mixed wrestling
match between a muscular, bodybuilder type of woman and a taller, but thinner
male opponent. In contrast to the histrionic bluster of pro wrestling, this
looked like a serious contest. However, the type of wrestling was certainly
not what Karen and I were familiar with. This was an all out, no holds barred
contest, with the female clearly the aggressor. We watched, fascinated, as she
pursued her male opponent relentlessly, applying headlocks, arm locks and
wrapping her thick, strong-looking legs around him in all manner of scissors
holds. He was entirely preoccupied with fending her off and would no sooner
extricate himself from one position before finding himself caught in another
hold. Although we couldn't hear the audio, if there was any, over the pounding
techno music, it was pretty obvious he was panting and breathing hard. His red
face and dishevelled hair stood in stark contrast to her unruffled appearance
as she calmly worked him into what would prove to be the finishing hold. She
had him on his back, her legs around his head in a kind of figure four lock
with one of his arms stretched out and held against her chest. Grasping his
wrist with both hands, she bend his arm back across her leg. It was hard to
see his face as it was mostly enveloped by her meaty thighs but he his free
arm waved around as he frantically tapped her leg, indicating his submission.
The scene ended with her standing over her victim flexing her muscles for the
camera as she placed her bare foot on his chest. The camera showed a close up
of his face. He looked scared, as if he feared she might put her full weight
on his stomach, but made no attempt to remove her foot. She continued to pose
and flex then the scene flickered briefly and another pair of combatants began
circling one another. Our attention was diverted by the arrival of a waitress.
We had just given our drink order when we heard a squeal.

"There you are!"

Shanice ran over and pulled Karen to her feet, giving her an enormous bear hug
and a big smooch right on the lips. Then she did the same to me.

"I'm so glad you guys are here! What are you doing way back in the corner?"

"It's the only table we could find," I answered apologetically.

"Well this is no good. You're supposed to be my guests."

Asking the waitress to bring our drinks to her table, Shanice led us through
the busy bar to a large, empty table right up front, against the rope barrier
that cordoned off the ring. The table had little folding cards saying
"Reserved" on it.

"Some of the girls may join you later, but right now everyone's back in the
dressing room changing and getting ready for their matches. The fights will be
starting soon so I have to go check on them and get ready myself. You guys
have fun and I'll come and sit with you in a bit, OK?"

After giving us both a quick peck on the cheek, Shanice left us alone. The
waitress brought our drinks and, to my surprise, wouldn't take my money when I
went to pay.

"Shanice said it's on the house," she explained.

Karen and I looked at each other in amazement.

"To Shanice!" I offered, raising my glass. We clinked our glasses together and
I took a sip of my drink, sat back and surveyed the crowd. There were a number
of women I presumed were regular clientele, dominatrix-type women, most of
whom were tall and heavy. They were with smaller men and, in some cases,
women. These were what I took to be their slaves, or "subs", as I later
discovered was the proper term. There were also a lot of athletic hard bodies,
both female and male as well as groups of older men who looked like
businessmen, the kind you might find at the local strip club, knocking back a
few after work. Talking with Shanice later that night, I discovered a lot of
these guys were into wrestling with women and were here scouting out
prospective girls to book a match with. They were referred to as "schmoes".
Another new term - I was learning a lot here tonight. Who would have thought
the evening would turn out to be so educational? Little did I know at the time
the learning experience, for both Karen and I, had just begun.

Suddenly the lights, already low, dimmed even further. The music stopped and
coloured floodlights augmented by a pair of bright white spots illuminated the
ring/stage. A mini-lightshow ensued, complete with dry ice. A disembodied male
voice boomed from the speaker over a drum roll.

"Ladies and gentlemen...and anyone who isn't included in either of those
categories...welcome to Fight Night at the Shaggy Horse. And now...would you
please give a warm welcome... to our hostess for the evening, the enchanting,
the intoxicating, the looooovelyyyyy...SHANICE!"

The fog cleared and there she was, standing in the centre of the ring, holding
a wireless microphone, dressed in a skin-tight red leather corset with laces
up the front, a red garter belt, thigh high black leather boots and a black
bow tie around her otherwise bare shoulders. The push up garment made her
prodigious breasts appear even more prominent. She looked stunning...really
spectacular, and received a huge ovation from the crowd. As the applause died
down, Shanice welcomed everyone in the warm and personable manner to which
Karen and I had become accustomed. She spoke briefly about how this particular
event had grown, mentioning that it was never the same from one week to the
next, as all manner of fighting styles were featured. Tonight, she assured us,
would be no exception and concluded by inviting us to sit back, relax and get
ready to enjoy the action.

As she spoke, two of the club's bouncers laid out a large tarp over the mats
and set up a plastic wading pool, inflating it quickly using an air compressor
and coating it with a couple of buckets of clear oil. It was a large, square
pool and took up a good portion of the ring. As Shanice introduced the first
two combatants, I saw a look of disapproval pass over Karen's face. Oil (mud,
jello, whipped cream etc.) wrestling annoyed her almost as much as the pro
stuff. Like many other college wrestlers, especially female ones it seemed,
she resented sharing her sport's name with these entertainment events. I
caught her eye and gave her a look. I was trying to remind her that we were
here to have fun and enjoy ourselves. She gave me a sheepish grin back,
indicating she'd gotten the message.

I watched the match begin, not expecting too much, which turned out to be a
good thing. Although the girls looked in pretty good shape and seemed to have
a bit of skill, it was fairly typical of the kind of thing you'd see on oil
wrestling night in the average strip bar. After slipping and sliding around
pinning each other for a few minutes, both women's bikinis were long gone and
they seemed to be concentrating on getting each other into positions designed
to draw attention to certain aspects of their anatomy. There was the good old
full nelson with the knee against the back, the trusty schoolgirl pin with a
double nipple twist and of course, the tried and true leg split hold, which
left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Each of the "wrestlers" had large,
firm breasts, long blonde tresses and tiny waists. I had to admit, they did
make a very sensuous sight and they slid around the pool applying various
holds to one another.

Finally, one of the blondes was apparently victorious as she sat comfortably
on her opponent's stomach, her knees pinning her opponent's arms. The winner
made a great show of relishing her victory, clasping her hands together and
she held her arms high in the air. Meanwhile the other girl played her part as
the defeated loser equally well, turning her head from side to side as she
yelled out her submission. Her cries of "I give, you win..." turned to "No,
no, no..." as the victor slid steadily forward until she straddled the other
girl's neck, her shaved and glistening pussy only inches from her foe's mouth.
The one on top then laced her fingers together. cupping them around the back
of her viticm's head pulled the defeated girl's mouth against her pubic mound.
The pinned wrestler made a few attempts to dislodge the other girl by trying
to drill her knees into her back, but only wound up in a worse position as top
blonde reached back and wrapped first one arm, then the other behind her knees
and leaned forward, pushing her pussy even harder against the beaten girl's
mouth. The match ended with the loser's face pinned under her opponent's
crotch, her ass hoisted off the mat, legs spread and genitalia exposed, the
picture of helpless submission.

If the job of these two lithe, buxom blondes was to get the audience revved
up, they were certainly successful. The crowd roared its approval as the
winner's name was announced. Two large beach towels were quickly provided to
the women so they could wipe the oil dripping off their two blonde bodies.
They then exited the ring and made their way down the aisle that led to the
dressing rooms at the rear of the club.

Shanice was quickly back announcing the next two girls, this time a blonde and
redhead, who put on a similar show. There was one more oil wrestling bout
after that, this one between two brunettes and I got the sense from watching
them there was not love lost between these two. They also displayed the best
example of wrestling prowess we'd seen so far. Due to the oil and the fact
that both girls were fairly skilled and evenly matched, there were a lot fewer
holds and a more grappling action. I also noticed the use of some tactics that
would have been more appropriate in a catfight that a wrestling contest, such
as hair pulling and slapping. There was a viciousness to this bout that was
not in evidence during the first two that continued right until the end. When
the shorter and thicker of the two brunettes finally trapped the other in a
bodyscissors/armlock combination she was unable to break, she continued to
punish her victim after her submission by forcing her to beg for mercy, admit
she was inferior etc. After screaming out the words her was made to say, the
loser began openly sobbing as she pleaded with her captor for release. From
our front row seats, I could see this was no act. This girl was obviously in a
great deal of pain. Just as it seemed the bouncers might have to intervene,
the victorious brunette opened her legs and put her foot against the beaten
girl's back. She kicked her opponent away, causing her to slide several feet
as she got up and stood over the tearful girl. The winner reached down and
pulled other girl's head up by the hair.

"Who's crying now, bitch?" she asked mockingly.

Letting go of her hair, the victorious brunette disdainfully stepped on the
loser's head as she exited the ring. As the crowd buzzed excitedly at this
display of dominance, her opponent was helped up by one of the bouncers and I
saw Shanice checking her to see if she was all right. Apparently the only
injury was to her pride and she made her way out of the ring as Shanice
encouraged the audience to give all the oil wrestlers a big round of applause.
Karen and I had been so stunned by this violent display, we had failed to
notice the two blondes from the first match had sat down at the other end of
the long table. As the pool and tarp were being cleared off the stage, Shanice
announced a short break and the music started up again. I wasn't sure if we
should ask the two blondes to join us or not and was weighing it in my mind
when the waitress was back asking us if we'd like another round. I was about
to say yes, but for me only when I glanced a Karen's glass and saw it was
empty too. Not much of a drinker, she usually made a drink or two last the
whole evening. I asked her if she wanted another. To my surprise, she said
sure. After the waitress had left, I was about to see how she felt about
inviting the oil wrestling girls to sit with us, but it was too late. They had
picked up their drinks and slid into the two seats beside us.

"Hi," one of them said, "you guys are Shanice's friends, right?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, we just met her today, but we're here as her guests. I'm
Scott, this is Karen."

"Hi! I'm Morgan."

"And I'm Taylor. Shanice said you guys are from Canada."

"Uh-huh."

"Cool. And you're both wrestlers?"

"Yes, on our school teams," Karen replied. "We wrestle a little different
style than what's going on here."

The girls giggled and Taylor said, "Yes, we know. You probably think it's
silly, T & A stuff but it's all just for fun."

"That last match didn't look like it was for fun," I remarked, "what was going
on there? That got pretty mean."

This time, Morgan spoke up.

"That was a little pay back for a couple of weeks ago. The girl that lost
tonight, her name's Lindsey. She had Kelly face down and really twisted her
arm really hard. I guess it hurt pretty bad and it made Kelly cry so she
wanted to get her back. I don't think those two are going to be oil wrestling
anymore."

"Why not?"

"Well, it's supposed to be more, like...sexual, you know? Like stripping sort
of. You're supposed to show lots of skin. Those two are getting too serious.
They're going to have to start doing submission style, if they want to keep
wrestling."

"What's submission style mean?" Karen wanted to know, but the music faded down
and our attention was diverted by the waitress arriving with our drinks.
Again, I tried to pay her and again she refused.

"I told you, it's on the house."

"I thought that was just the first one."

"No, Shanice said whatever you guys want, put it on her tab. Might as well put
your wallet away, you won't be needing it."

After she left, Karen asked her question again, just as Shanice was taking the
microphone again to announce the next match.

"You'll see." Morgan said, cutting her answer short. "There's going to be some
of those matches later on."

Shanice was announcing the next contest, which seemed to be a sort of parody
of pro wrestling. I say parody because there was a certain "tongue-in-cheek"
to the traditional show of bravado the women put on as they had their turn at
the microphone. The characters were kind of silly too, a Cowgirl/Indian
routine. The two wrestlers who played them were big women, similar in build to
a lot of the dominatrix-types in the crowd. They weren't obese, but certainly
weren't short of body fat either. Despite that, I was fairly impressed with
how well they were able to move that weight around. They pulled off some
semi-acrobatic moves using the ring ropes, all the while keeping the crowd
amused with their antics.

Meanwhile, Shanice had joined us at the table and had us all giggling like
fools with her infectious laughter and hilarious comments. After a few near
miraculous escapes from what seemed like certain pins, the match finally ended
when the "Indian Maiden" stole the cowgirl's rope from her corner and used it
to first strangle, then tie her opponent to the ring post. After pretending to
batter her victim into a state of semi-consciousness, she bound the girl with
her own rope, leaving her hog tied at the centre of the ring. As a final
indignity, she donned the loser's white stetson as she pinned her shoulders
for a three-count, while posturing to the crowd. The Indian completed her
victory by crushing the hat with her foot and placing it on top of the
cowgirl's face. She then exited the ring to the cheers of the crowd, as a
bouncer untied the helpless "cowgirl".

I looked at Karen and saw that, while she wasn't laughing like everyone else,
she looked relaxed and didn't seem to be particularly bothered by the
spectacle we'd just witnessed. Because this was such an obvious comedy show,
it was hard to take it seriously. I was also astonished to see most of her
second drink gone. Between the wine at dinner and the two drinks we'd had
here, that was more alcohol than Karen would normally consume in a week or
more. I decided the next drink order would include something non alcoholic for
her, since she didn't seem to notice how fast the liquor was going down.

End Of Part Two