HARDCASE
By John Castle - Written For DTM / Amy's Conquest
A young male lawyer gets much more than he bargained for, when he joins a prestigious law firm, filled with strong, sexy, dominant Amazon women




It started, ironically enough, with Sam musing to himself about what a
lucky guy he was. Lucky to be worth half a million at the age of 25
thanks to some of his early work while interning with a moneyed and
deeply established law firm. Lucky to be a good looking specimen of the
male gender at five feet ten inches tall and weighing just under two
hundred muscular pounds. Lucky to have landed a full time position with a
spectacularly prestigious criminal defense firm whose representative had
been a gorgeous, and promisingly flirtatious, blonde very nearly his own
age.


A bit tall for his taste, but well, he was still young and exploring the
world beyond the ivy-clad walls of Harvard. Sam was a leg man, of course,
but he also happened to enjoy the influence his height provided him with
the opposite sex. Five foot six was the tallest he generally went for. He
shrugged mentally. She had been a looker; he could persuade himself to
make an exception -- well, if it proved to be welcome, that is. Mrs. Del
Vecchio had raised no fool, and he wasn't about to jeopardize his dream
position.


The morning sun filtered through a mist of light morning rain as he
pulled the briefcase from the passenger seat of his Volvo and made his
way to the aluminum-framed glass doors to the firm of Barnes, Haley,
Chandresh and Sykes, Attorneys at Law. The foyer was clad in marble
floors, oak paneling and deftly concealed full-spectrum lighting. At the
center rear of the foyer, the blonde who had recruited him for the firm
stood behind a generously wide oak desk with a classical green-shaded
lamp.


"And here you are!" a warm and genuine smile turned cherry red lips up at
the corners and creased the corners of her eyes, bringing dimples to life
on her cheeks. She reached into an unseen drawer and withdrew a manilla
envelope. "This is for you, Mr. Del Vecchio. Ms. Sykes is waiting for you
in the conference room. Down the hall to my right, last door on your
left."


Sam took the thick envelope, feeling significant heft to it. "What's
this?"


"I'm afraid I'm not privy to the details, Mr. Del Vecchio. I'm sure Ms.
Sykes will fill you in."


Sam nodded. "Thank you, Miss...?"


"Ms." She pronounced it, 'Mizz.' "Ms. Johanssen. But please, call me
Erica."


Sam smiled. "Thank you, Erica." Despite his smile, he crossed out her
name then and there for his list of possible conquests. Oh, it wasn't
that he had any issue with the "modern woman" -- not really. But there
was something ultimately off-putting about being stood down by a
receptionist, no matter how attractive. It might have been his
traditional upbringing; it might have been that when she'd said it, her
gentleness had come across to him as more than a little saccharin.
Whatever it was, it was a solid dealbreaker.


His Oxfords were silent on the polished floor as he made his way to the
conference room doors. He paused at the placard next to the door,
momentarily puzzled to read, "Conference Room A" there. Granted, this was
a fairly large firm, but two conference rooms? He shrugged, indulging in
faith that it would be explained to him if and when he needed it
explained. He pulled the door open and stepped inside, then paused.


If he'd thought the blonde was outside his "type", he gave up then and
there whatever deeply concealed fantasies he might have harbored about
any of his female colleagues at the firm. The shortest of them was his
upper limit of five foot six, but she was built, as the saying went, like
a brick shithouse. Her auburn hair was long and curly, but pulled back
rather severely, a stylish pair of half-hornrimmed spectacles
simultaneously setting off her vivid green eyes and lending her the
appearance of the librarian of his fifth grade year of schooling --
except that his fifth grade librarian hadn't been built like a busty
female firefighter.


The other three women were even more outside his comfort zone. Beside the
redhead towered a blue eyed blonde of perhaps six feet two or three -- no
telling how tall she was flat-footed, he mused, but five foot ten seemed
like a good guess. Her build, compared to the first woman's, was more
slender, her white blouse pressed a bit less to contain its cargo. A
raven-haired woman with bright, alert blue eyes, dusky olive skin and
wearing black lipstick stood shoulder to shoulder with the blonde, her
boyishly short hair contrasting with the blonde's girlish ponytail. The
raven-haired one, though, was built broader in both shoulders and hips
than even the redhead, her seductively mysterious Goth style makeup
contrasting bizarrely, intriguingly, with her imposing physique.


Sam almost didn't see the fourth woman; rather, it was more accurate to
say that his mind simply blotted her from his vision while it tried to
cope with the image his eyes were faced with. Just as the blonde and the
raven towered over the redhead, the brunette standing to the right of
them dwarfed them both. It took Sam a solid three seconds to recognize
her as a living entity. Her chestnut brown hair was long, curly and
unrestrained. Her face was stunning, with warm brown eyes, cheeks that
dimpled with a welcoming smile on full, pouty red lips.


But her body -- even in a knee-length black business skirt and white
blouse, her curves couldn't be concealed. She was amazingly well endowed
and curvaceous -- and had Sam been staring at her from two feet away
instead of twenty, he would have taken her for an extremely athletic five
foot eight inches, perhaps a buck fifty of muscle and curves. As it was,
he knew that she had to be at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds
heavier than that, if not much, much more. His cheeks and forehead had
gone cold. Still...


Sam was, even at such a young age, ferociously determined to remain
professional. Though the smile he adopted felt as artificial as a Formica
countertop, he soldiered up and stepped bravely into the room to meet Ms.
Barnes, Ms. Haley, Ms. Chandresh and Ms. Sykes.


"Mr. Del Vecchio." The redhead took the lead as all four women applauded
him politely, much to his confusion. She stepped forward, all of them
following her, to approach him in long, graceful strides. "I'd like to
tell you how pleased we all are to have you." She stepped up to him,
directly into his personal space, and seized his hand in hers, shaking it
firmly. She did not, however, release his hand or step away again, and
his eyes widened slowly. "I must apologize for pressing you into service
on your first day -- but I'm sure you'll handle it with the skill and
aplomb we've seen from you over the last year." The other women joined
her, subtly and quietly surrounding Sam. He turned reflexively to look up
at the brunette -- but as far as he craned his neck back to see her face,
he saw only her blouse, her bust line nearly directly over his head. She
was, indeed, much, much larger than he was.


"Down here, Mr. Del Vecchio." The redhead smiled, but in that smile was
just a hint of wicked mirth. "Let me introduce us. I'm Allison Barnes.
Megan?"


The blonde seized Sam gently by the shoulders and turned him to face her
as if he was a small child, the strength seeming to defy her slender
build. "I'm Megan Haley. Hello there." Her voice was sultry, just a bit
breathless. Sam picked up the mixed scents from the women now as they
closely surrounded him; hers was a light, pleasant vanilla scent. Another
hand took his elbow, turning him again with ease until he looked into
bright blue eyes that pinned his with a gaze so intense he reflexively
looked to the floor. That was when he noticed that none of these women
wore heels. They pressed in closer around him, and even as his pulse
quickened and his face drained of color, his cock began to pulse and
rise.


"Dana Chandresh." She said; her voice was utterly at odds with her height
and build. He would have expected a whiskeyed voice from a woman her
size, something like the blonde's. Her voice, though, was utterly girlish
and bore the faint lilt of a fading Hindi accent. Her smile blossomed
broadly as Sam sense a shift of immense physical mass behind him and
turned to see the mind-bendingly immense brunette lower her face to his.
She had to take a full step back and bend nearly perpendicular to bring
herself down to eye level with him.


"I'm Molly." She smiled, and it was at once the loveliest and most
terrifying thing he'd ever seen. He hadn't seen a view of a woman bending
so far down to smile at him since he was five years old and his
Kindergarten teacher had said hello to him for the first time. The utter
dissociation brought on by seeing such a thing again as a full grown
adult was thoroughly unnerving. She extended her hand and he took it
reflexively; her hand swallowed his own up to the wrist and a fresh wave
of the shivers coursed through him. "Molly Sykes." Her smile grew as if
she was not only not offended by his reaction but took pleasure in it.


He pulled himself out of the slowly tightening circle of femininity and
moved smoothly enough to take a seat at the table, opening the envelope
he had been holding with both hands over his crotch area. Amazingly, he'd
managed to do this -- or so he'd thought -- just as naturally as if he
hadn't been hiding what was still growing into a monster of a hard-on.
"Um..." He fumbled just a bit in trying to open the envelope.


A slender hand reached into his view -- he had been focused to intently
on the envelope that he'd missed the ladies' conspiratorial looks and the
approach failed entirely to notice Megan cover the pair of steps over to
the chair to which he'd retreated. Her hand rested on his briefly, then
gently took the envelope from him and opened it. She placed the contents
on the conference table in front of him.


"That was a fairly well done 'strategic withdrawal', Mr. Del Vecchio,"
Allison said primly. "But I hope you won't back down and stammer like
that in the courtroom."


He looked up, his eyes narrowed. "You were testing me." There was no need
to phrase it as a question; he was more embarrassed than surprised,
really, because from all he'd read and heard of this legal team, he knew
they were as cold-blooded cunning as they were physically attractive.
Further, he knew they weren't above using the potent combination to their
advantage in the coutroom. He simply hadn't expected them to use that
combination on him.


Allison nodded. "Naturally. You'll spend at least your first dozen cases
with one of us directly assisting you in the courtroom. I'm sure you've
done your homework. You know that our clients pay us to win, by whatever
means necessary. The means we use are meant to distract the opposition --
not our own staff. We need to know whether or not you can function in
that kind of environment."


He wasn't really sure, for a moment, how to respond to that. "How did I
do?"


Megan leaned over him and her warm breath caressed his cheek as one hand
came to rest on his shoulder, the other gliding down his side until the
fingers found the bulge of his reinvigorated hard-on. "Very impressive."
She breathed in his ear.


There was a single light tap at the door and then it opened. A short,
slim built young man of perhaps 19 years old looked into the room and
then froze as stiff as a deer in headlights. The redhead flashed a grin,
then just as quickly replaced it with a scowl. "Is there something I can
help you with, William?" Her tone projected anything but helpfulness. In
fact, it wasn't even the cold condescension one would expect from an
executive addressing an employee at a rung so low on the corporate ladder
as to be in the sub-basement. Her tone was, rather, icily mirthful,
predatory. The voice of the cat who's just been bumped into by the mouse.


The young man shook his head, the movement more like a twitch than smooth
motion, and if Sam hadn't read the unyielding terror in him from his wide
eyes, raised eyebrows and slightly open-mouthed frown, that
adrenaline-spiked twitch would have screamed it to him. He started to
back out of the doorway again, his steps clumsy and faltering. But it was
already too late.


"Come here, William." She spoke again, stepping away from the three women
who still more than ably surrounded Sam. "Right now." She folded her arms
over her firm breasts and stood, the toe of her shoe tapping impatiently.
Sam could see that there was nothing the boy wanted less in the world to
do. But for some reason, he obeyed anyway, coming to her on legs that
were visibly rubbery now, his slim arms clutching at his torso; the
entire image reminded Sam of the one time he'd stumbled back into the
house out of a Texas blizzard and his father had caught it on the
family's ancient videocassette-based home video camera.


"William," Allison stepped forward to fold an arm around him in a manner
entirely unbecoming a senior executive of a law firm. She raised her
other hand to stroke his cheek gently, caressing it, even, perhaps the
way a doting aunt would, "You darling boy. How many times have you been
told not to enter either one of the conference rooms without our explicit
instruction? Hmm?" The young man was perhaps all of five feet three -- it
was hard for Sam to imagine what position he could possibly hold here,
except perhaps that of a janitor. Paralegals were young, but not as young
as this kid.


"Poor dear." The redhead cooed to him. "Now you'll have to be...
punished." He lifted his eyes to hers, and Sam was startled to see that
tears had already welled in them and had begun to spill down the kid's
cheeks. The kid opened his mouth to object as her free hand slipped to
the back of his head. Before he could get a word out, she forced his face
forward with no visible effort at all, driving his mouth and nose into
the valley between her breasts. All that prevented absolute suffocation
was the fact that her blouse was a barrier against an air-tight seal.


Sam stepped toward them, "Hey!" -- but he didn't make a full step before
Megan and Dana seized his arms, each with a single hand. The blonde
returned her hand to his member, then shifted it a bit lower, her strong
fingers curling around the package of his slacks and behind the fabric,
his balls. Dana slid her free hand into his jacket, her powerful fingers
working two buttons of his dress shirt loose despite his struggling. Her
fingers caressed his chest until they found his left nipple, then
squeezed. As he gasped in air through clenched teeth, Megan, too,
squeezed what she had found. Suddenly, a nearly unbearable weight settled
on the top of his head and a massive wall of warmth pressed against his
entire body from behind. The brunette giantess had rested her forearm
atop his skull. She breathed a contented sigh from above and behind him
-- suddenly, he grasped all too intimately the terror in the boy clutched
in the redhead's embrace.


"Let him--" Sam tried to speak despite the nearly claustrophobic
imprisonment of his tender parts and, indeed, of his entire body.


"Shhhh..." the blonde whispered in his ear, her fingers tightening around
his balls until it was all he could do to stay on his feet. "Be a good
boy."


"I should explain to you, Mr. Del Vecchio," the redhead turned and
flashed a smile at him as effortlessly as if she were not holding a man
-- even as small and slim as he was -- desperately struggling in a deadly
embrace. "This firm is run for the benefit of women, by women. As you are
now discovering, we are..." her smile broadened, "somewhat exceptional.
Well, for now. As the decades go by, more women will be as physically
capable as we are. But for now, we have elected to lend our talents to
the defense of women against the aggressions of those who would prey upon
them."


She tightened her grip on the man struggling to breathe through the thin
barrier of her blouse. His face disappeared entirely between the breasts
that, without the benefit of her blouse, surely have snuffed him out as
easily as a tiny candle in a stiff breeze. "We decided some time ago,
however, that it would be expedient to add a man's face to the public
face of our firm. To avoid the appearance of being prejudicial, you
understand. You will be that face. But make no mistake..." she cinched
her arm about the boy tighter still, and a series of pops issued from his
body. Panicked, he thrashed in her grip wildly enough that he would
certainly have dislodged himself from a man the redhead's size -- but his
movements only seemed to excite her; her eyes rolled back, fluttered
lightly for an instant. "Make no mistake, Mr. Del Vecchio..." her voice
was whiskeyed for a moment, breathy. "When I said that we're pleased to
have you, I hope you didn't mistake my meaning. We have you. You are ours
now."


**** For The Full And Complete Story, Come Visit us In Our Brand New Amy's 
Conquest (www.amysconquest.com) Exclusive, Members Only, Text Stories Section ****