ALL THAT JAZZ  Part 3
by Sonofjack - written for DTM / Amy's Conquest



*** The Below is an extended segment from this story, written for us by the
awesome Sonofjack, whose other stories you can read here on Diana The
Valkyrie, and on amazonlove.org.

For the Full Story of All That Jazz (Part 3), please visit our Member's
Section at Amy's Conquest (www.amysconquest.com), under Exclusive Text
Stories. Thanks all, and as always, hope you Enjoy! ***

********************

On the negative side I've lost my dignity, my masculinity, my independence and
m y house. Plus, my relationship # with my brother and best friend is
strained. On the plus side, all I've gained is the memory of a few incredible
nights with the woman who now rules my body and my soul. Yet any thought of
end ing my relationship with the bewitching ebony amazon named Jazz is
completely out of the question. I'd gladl y go through everything I've gone #
through and more for half of the ecstasy I've known with Jazz.

The greatest torture is not knowing when our next encounter will be. I don't
even know for sure there will be another encounter. But I can't think like
that! I have to believe that I'll have at least one more night with Jazz.
Otherwise I'll go mad with grief and desire.

I can't even rightly call what I have with Jazz a "relationship". It certainly
isn't one in the traditional sense. Basically, whenever Jazz feels like it,
she shows up and fucks my brother Matt and I until we beg her to stop. It's
not that we don't both love having sex with her. It's that we can't keep up
with her amazing stamina, super strength, or sexual appetite. First we beg her
to have sex with us. Later we beg her to show mercy on our weak male bodies
and stop.

The thing is, neither Matt nor I are what most people would call weak. We're
both former star college athletes, and both of us keep in great shape.
However, there is no denying that compared to Jazz we are wimps. She's able to
lift us and throw us around like babies. The truth is, she can do whatever she
wants to us, and for us, and we are both completely helpless to stop her.

Personally, this is what excites me the most about Jazz. I never ever
suspected that it would turn me on to be physically and mentally dominated by
a woman until I met Jazz. Now that I've experienced it, I know that no other
woman will ever satisfy me. I'll do anything to keep her, and she knows it.

When she proposed that I give her my house and move in with my brother, I
didn't even hesitate. I figured that once she moved in, I would get to see her
more often since my old house and my brother's house are on the same block.
How did I know that she intended to sell it without moving in?

I have seen her once since giving my house to her. She dropped about a week
after she put the house on the market. It was about eight o'clock at night
when Matt and I heard a knock at the door. I went to see who it was.

"Oh my God, Jazz! It's so great to see you. Come on in," I invited. I wanted
to ask her why she put my house up for sale. I wanted to tell her that I only
gave it to her because I thought she was going to move in. I wanted to tell
her how angry and disappointed I was. Yet, I didn't tell her any of these
things. I knew she would only remind me that she hadn't made any promises to
me. She would further remind me that I gave her my house of my own free will,
and that she was free to do whatever she wanted with it.

We would also both know that this is not completely true since we both know
that I have no free will when it comes to her. She understands completely that
she owns me and that I will do whatever she tells me to do. In fact, I'll do
anything she merely suggests.

As strange as it may seem, I'm glad we both understand this. It gets me hot to
know how completely sure of herself she is where my obedience is concerned. It
gets me even hotter when she demonstrates her awareness by simply taking it
for granted.

That's why I didn't bring any of this stuff about the house up. Somehow, it
made it even more arousing knowing that she knew what I was thinking and
knowing that I was too afraid to even bring it up. I don't know if any of this
makes sense, but it was the things I didn't say-that I didn't dare to say-that
turned me on the most.

Jazz smiled down at my 6'2" body from her 6'7" vantage point and said, "I just
thought I'd stop in and see how my two little weaklings were getting along."

Matt came into the room from the kitchen and said, "Your two little weaklings
are doing fine!" This marked a huge change in Matt's attitude. He'd always
found Jazz just as sexually desirable as I had, but in the past, he bristled
somewhat at being subservient to her. He bristled even more at being called a
wimp or a weakling. Now, it seems like he was finally accepting his place as
one of Jazz's slaves

"Are you two boys getting along now that you're housemates?" She looked right
at me with a satisfied, superior smile when she said this. She as much as
dared me to speak up about having to give away my house only to watch her sell
it. She challenged me knowing with one hundred percent certainty that I was
too much under her power to stand up to her. What a woman!

"We've been getting along fine," I told her which wasn't absolutely true. To
be honest, we'd been getting on each other's nerves a bit. Matt and I hadn't
actually shared living space in quite a while. I'd forgotten how immature and
annoying he could be. From his perspective, he probably thought I was too
uptight and equally annoying. The biggest difference between us, however, is
that I'm sure it never occurred to him to consider my perspective.

"Yeah, but when you made Nick give you his house and made us move in together,
we thought you were going to move into Nick's house." Even though I knew
better than to bring this up, Matt didn't.

"Mattie darling, I didn't 'make' either one of you do anything; I merely made
a suggestion," Jazz said smiling pleasantly.

"Yeah, but you know that your 'suggestions' are like commands to Nick and me,"
Matt pointed out.

"Yes, that's true," Jazz agreed.

"And now you're selling Nick's house," Matt said.

"It's not Nick's house," Jazz contradicted, still with a confident smile on
her face. "It's MY house now, and I can do anything I want with it. Don't you
agree, Nicky?"

"Anything at all," I said.

"But still . . . ." Matt said. He seemed to have more to say on the subject,
but he wisely kept it to himself.

"Come over here, my two little wimps," Jazz "suggested".

We dutifully walked over to her. She placed a hand gently on each of our
shoulders. "Let me just look at you two gorgeous boys," she said beaming
brightly. We both smiled up at her. I felt so proud at this moment to be part
of Jazz's life. I didn't care that I had to share her with my brother or that
she had other lovers besides us. I only knew that she had other lovers because
she made a point in telling us that she did. I know that on the nights she
isn't with us (which are most nights), she's more than likely with another
lover or lovers. Even though this is true, she's made it clear that Matt and I
are not allowed to see any other women. I'm so whipped that I don't care. I'm
grateful for any crumbs she's willing to throw our way.

The reason I'm so whipped? She was about to demonstrate.

As Matt and I stood there smiling up at her like unsuspecting fools, she began
to apply pressure. At first it was subtle, but it gradually became more and
more noticeable. As she slowly drove us to our knees, Matt struggled and said
things like, "Ow, Jazz, you're hurting me," and "Please, Jazz, stop!"

I didn't say a word because I knew it wouldn't make a difference. I only
grimaced and struggled to stay on my feet. I knew that struggling wouldn't
make a difference either; I only struggled because I knew it would please
Jazz. I knew that she would rather muscle the two of us to our knees than to
have us simply go there. If she wanted us to go to our knees all she had to do
was order us down. It wasn't our obedience she wanted to demonstrate at the
moment, it was her vastly superior strength. My devotion to her was so great
that despite the pain, I struggled to stay on my feet so that she would have
the satisfaction of knowing that she forced me to my knees. I resisted as long
as I could; I lasted almost seven seconds.

Once she had us on the floor she smiled down at us and said, "There! Isn't
that better?"

"Yes, Jazz," I confirmed.

My stupid brother asked, "Why is this better?"

"Isn't that where you belong? she asked, "On your knees looking up at me?"

"Yeah, I get that," Matt said, "But if you wanted us on our knees, why didn't
you just tell us?"

Jazz saw me roll my eyes at my brother's question. A look passed between us.
She knew that I got it. She knew that I understood that making us go down on
our knees using her superior strength was far sweeter that merely ordering us
to go down. She looked at Matt and said, "After I'm gone, ask your brother.
He'll explain it to you."

"Gone? You're not leaving are you?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so," she said, "Places to go, people to do."

"But so soon? You just got here." I pleaded.

"Yeah, you just got here," Matt echoed.

"Sorry, boys, but I've made other plans for tonight."

Since I was already on my knees, this seemed like as good a time as any to
start begging. "Please, Jazz, stay with us a little longer. Please." I hugged
her leg and began kissing and licking its beautiful, muscular form..

Matt joined in. "Please, Jazz, don't go yet." He began kissing and caressing
her other leg. "We'll do whatever you say, and I promise I won't complain,
only please, don't go yet."

"You two wimps already do whatever I say," Jazz observed.

I tried laying it on thicker. "Please, Jazz, (kiss kiss) you know we (lick
lick) worship you. Just stay another hour. (kiss kiss) We'll try our best
(lick lick) to be worthy (kiss kiss) of your magnificent (lick lick) beauty
and awesome super strength (kiss kiss)."

"Yeah," said Matt between kisses and caresses.

"I'll admit it's tempting," Jazz confessed, "But I'm afraid I really must be
going now."

"Please, Jazz," I begged. Tears were freely streaming down my face.

"You know how much I like seeing you two boys beg," she said with supreme
confidence, "but enough is enough."

"But, Jazz-" Matt started.

"Enough!" she said. "Now stand up both of you."

We did as we were told, but we stood in front of our master like two scolded
children with our heads down looking at the floor.

"What am I going to do with you two?" Jazz asked.

"Continue to use and abuse us in whatever way you see fit," I said. Then
almost against my will I added, "I hope and pray."

"Yes, that goes without saying," Jazz agreed immediately. "I'll tell you what.
I'm leaving now, but I'll be back Friday night, and the three of us will go
out together."

"You mean it?" Matt enthused.

"Yes," Jazz smiled. "I'll pick you boys up at seven. And speaking of picking
you up . . . ." She leaned over and placed her hands on our butts. Then she
effortlessly and gracefully scooped us up in her powerful arms and gave each
of us a big kiss. This was the good stuff. This is what I longed for, to feel
weightless in my super strong master's grip.

After she kissed me, I hugged her neck tightly and whispered in her ear, "I've
been working out extra hard, my love." Jazz flashed her dazzling smile at me,
and put us gently down on the floor.

"See you Friday at seven, my little weaklings," she said as she went out the
door.

"I can hardly wait, my African goddess," I called after her.

"Yeah, me neither," said Matt.

Just like that, she was gone. It was almost like she was never here at all.
That's how it was with Jazz. To love someone who was so incredibly beautiful
and outrageously sexy and feminine and yet at the same time so impossibly
strong had an unreal quality to it. Sometimes I wondered if I dreamed the
whole thing up. How could such an enchanting combination of feminine beauty
and strength actually exist?

Yet, she must exist. Otherwise, who did I give my house to? And if she didn't
exist, how could her sister be married to my other brother D.J.? Besides, she
must exist; I don't have the imagination to dream up something as amazing as
Jazz. She must be real. If she isn't, if Jazz is merely a dream, I hope that I
never wake up. I'd rather die in my sleep than to wake up and face life
without her.

When I told Jazz that I had been working out extra hard, I was referring to
the last night she had spent with Matt and me. The morning after, I showed her
my personal gym and confessed that I'd been working out extra hard to build up
my strength and stamina. I explained that even though I knew I could never
come close to matching her in either department, I was hoping that I could at
least come a little closer. I especially wanted to improve my endurance so
that I could work harder at being able to sexually satisfy her. As it is, Matt
and I together can hardly get the job done, and Jazz always leaves us so
exhausted that we finally pass out.

When I told her about my extra work outs, she seemed to be really touched by
my effort. Plus, in our last love making session, I managed to outlast Matt
which she noticed. This may seem like a dirty deal, but I'm hoping that
eventually Jazz and I can become a couple rather than a trio. In order for
that to happen, I know that I have to prove worthy. That's why between now and
our date on Friday night, besides going to work, I'm practically going to live
in the gym. I'm also going to make sure I eat right and get plenty of sleep. I
want to be in top physical shape when we go out.

So this is my existence now: eat, sleep, work, exercise and wait for Jazz. And
when you get down to it, the eating, sleeping, working and exercising are just
the things I do while I wait. In such a short time she has become my entire
life. It's already hard to remember what my life was like before knowing her.
I vaguely remember that I used to think of myself as having a great life. Now
my life of mostly waiting for brief encounters of supreme ecstasy isn't what
anyone would call great. Even so I believe that if I ever had to go back to
life without Jazz I would wither and die. I need her the way a flower needs
earth, water and sunshine.

Finally, after waiting much too long, Friday night arrived. I showered,
shaved, combed my hair, applied my finest cologne and dressed to kill. I wore
my best khaki slacks and a tailored blue pinstriped shirt that fit perfectly.
I bought a new silk tie just for the occasion and topped it off with my
freshly pressed five hundred dollar navy blue sports coat that I hadn't worn
since my brother's wedding to Jazz's sister. I looked like a perfectly pressed
picture of preppy pulchritude.

I hate to admit it, but Matt dressed and looked just as good. His sport coat
was charcoal gray.

We were both ready at 6:55 waiting to be picked up by our escort at seven
o'clock. Finally at 9:23 Jazz arrived. She pulled up in our driveway in a two
seat sports car and honked her horn twice.

"After being almost two-and-a-half hours late, the least she can do is come to
the door to pick us up," Matt seethe.

"C'mon, Matt, don't throw a hissy fit. Let's just be grateful that she's
here," I said in an attempt to soothe him.

"Grateful? I have half a mind to-"

"To what?" I asked. "Complain? You know what will happen if you do. She'll
just remind you again who the boss is. Haven't you learned your lesson, yet?
Jazz is in charge. Completely. In. Charge. We have to do what she says. If you
complain, you'll only end up getting hurt, and nothing will have changed."

Matt looked at me with contempt and said, "Oh, yeah? Well at least I still try
to stand up to her once in awhile!"

"And where has it gotten you?" I asked him.

"Maybe, nowhere, but at least I still try to act like a man," he said
triumphantly.

"Oh yeah?" I said.

"Yeah," he said. By now we were nose to nose.

"Has it ever occurred to you that she's only treating us the way you've
treated dozens of women? How many times did you show up just as late to a
date? Hell, how many dates have you blown off completely? How many times have
you promised to call a woman when you knew you weren't going to?"

"That's different!" he insisted.

"Different how?" I asked.

"Because . . . it just is! Besides, you've done the same things!"

"I know," I admitted, "It's just that at least I'm astute enough to see the
irony."

"Oh, you're very 'astute'," he said mockingly. "'Astute'? Is that one of those
words you learned in college, college boy?"

"In case you don't remember, dipshit, YOU WENT TO COLLEGE TOO!" I reminded
him.

"Yeah, but I didn't let it go to my head!"

"No shit!"

Just then there was a knock at the door so hard that the door broke off its
hinges and fell to the floor. There was Jazz standing in the now open doorway.

"Geez, boys, haven't you heard me honking out there? What's the matter is your
mascara running or something?"

"No," I answered, "We were just discussing the best way to address the fact
that you're almost two-and-a-half hours late."

"Oh," she considered, "My advice would be to not bring it up so I won't have
to remind you wimps who runs the show around here. Furthermore, I'd advise
that you should concentrate more on the fact that I'm here now so that the fun
can begin."

"My thoughts exactly," I said. "And by the way, Jazz, let me just be the first
to say that you look absolutely . . . ." I paused and said, "Like a biker
chick; why are you dressed like a biker chick?"

"Well, I like her look," said Matt, "I think she looks great!"

"Of course!" I agreed, "Jazz always looks great." She DID look great. The
bikini top she wore under her leather jacket showed her large breasts off very
nicely. The cut off jean shorts perfectly complimented both her tight round
ass and her long muscular legs. To complete the ensemble she had on knee high
boots and an eagle bandana on her head. She looked both tough and beautiful
which is exactly what she was. The only problem was, Matt and I did not match
her style at all.

"You look gorgeous, Jazz; just give me and Matt a few minutes to go and change
so we all look like we're on the same date," I suggested.

"No way," she said, "You two look just perfect for the evening I have
planned."

"But it will just take a second," I said. Matt and I both turned and started
to go to our rooms to change. I felt a tug at the back collar of my jacket.
The next thing I knew I was dangling in mid-air several inches off the ground.
I looked over at Matt who was in the same predicament. Jazz had picked us up
by our collars and lifted us in the air.

"I said you two looked perfect; that should be good enough for you." Without
another word she turned and carried us out of the open doorway into the front
yard. She paused long enough to put us down so that she could prop the broken
door up in the door frame so at least our house didn't look wide open. Then
she picked us back up and started walking towards her sports car.

"Wait a minute," I said.

"What now," she asked.

"How are we all going to fit in your car? It's a two-seater."

"Well, obviously, one of you is going to have to sit on the other's lap," she
answered.

"But, Jazz, that's insane. I have a Lincoln sedan right here. Let's take
that," I suggested.

"Okay," she agreed, "But I'm driving."

"Ha! No one drive's Nick's car but Nick," Matt observed.

I quickly handed over my keys to Jazz and said, "In your case, Jazz, I'll make
an exception." I said this as if I had a choice.

"But who gets to ride up front with Jazz?" Matt asked.

"Mattie, you ride up front with me; Nicky, you get in the back seat," Jazz
"suggested". Even though I didn't like it, I quietly did as I was told.

After a few minutes, my beautiful car pulled into the parking lot of the
sleaziest looking biker bar I've ever seen. The sign over the door said "Big
Bertha's Place".

"Please, don't tell me this is where you're taking us," I said.

"Sure is," Jazz said.

"C'mon, big bro, where's your sense of adventure?" Matt asked. What a suck-up!

So I followed Jazz and Matt into the dive, and what a dive it was. I'm not
going to waste a lot of time describing the "ambiance" of this place. Just
picture the crudest, slimiest, cruddiest, lowest bar you can imagine, add a
layer of grease, another layer of slime and a few thousand cockroaches, and
you've got Big Bertha's Place.

The only other patrons were six scummy-looking bikers all shirtless but
wearing matching denim vests that identified them as "Big Bertha's Boys". I
tried to keep as low a profile as possible by steering the three of us to the
least filthy looking booth I could find near the back corner.

Unfortunately, Jazz was having none of this. As soon as we sat down, she said
she was going to the bar to gets us three beers.

"Make sure they put them in dirty glasses," Matt said which I have to admit
was pretty funny.

While Jazz was at the bar, the juke box on the other side of the bar began to
play the song "Born to be Wild". "Wow, what are the chances of that?" I asked
myself. I half expected that if I walked over and looked at the juke, "Born to
be Wild" and "Leader of the Pack" would be the only two selections.

Anyway, while Jazz was waiting for the beers she ordered, she started to sway
seductively to the music. Needless to say, the sight of a gorgeous 6'7" amazon
goddess dressed as one of their own and swaying seductively to their anthem
was enough to capture the attention of all six of Big Bertha's Boys. The
biggest one, and he was a big one, walked over to Jazz and said, "Well, ain't
you a tall dark glass of sexy?"

As I said, this was a big dude. He was almost as tall as Jazz, and he was at
least twice as wide. He had long muscular arms and the scar on his left cheek
indicated that he might have been in one or two fights in his life.

The crazy thing about this was, I knew that Jazz was more than capable of
handling herself. I've seen her perform such incredible feats of strength that
I knew that this hairball was no threat to her no matter how tough he looked.
Even so, something about seeing him hitting on her made me feel both
possessive and protective. Before I could even think, I found myself wedged
between the beauty and the beast and saying, "The lady's with me, pal."

One of the other bikers yelled to his friend at the bar, "Hey, Sasquatch, who
let the preppy in?"

The large biker in front of me who was apparently named "Sasquatch" said, "I
don't know, but I'm about to kick his ass and steal his woman!"

I looked him right in the eye and said, "This preppy hits back, Bigfoot."

"Now, boys," Jazz said, "You two don't have to fight over little ol' me." She
was smiling when she said it. She clearly loved every minute of this drama
that I'm pretty sure she intentionally started.

"Stay out of this, Jazz," I said with surprising authority. "This is between
Yeti and me."

"Stay out of it?" she said with a certain amount of indignity. "Are you sure
that's what you want?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely!" I answered.

"As you wish," she granted.

"Look, asswipe," the huge biker said, "If you just turn around and leave right
now, you might just get out of here with all your teeth."

Instead of leaving, I calmly took off my sports coat and asked Jazz to hold it
for me. As I was rolling up my sleeves, Sasquatch's friends were hooting and
laughing and yelling encouragement to him. I removed my tie which I also
handed to Jazz. Then I looked that hairy, greasy son-of-a-bitch in the eye and
said, "Go for it, Legend of Bogey Creek."

He turned around to point at me and laugh to his buddies before quickly
turning and throwing a thundering left hook at me. This was an old trick that
I saw coming a mile away. I easily ducked his punch and came back with a
devastating right uppercut that caught him completely flatfooted. To the
amazement of Jazz, the bartender and the other five bikers, Sasquatch went
down like a sack of potatoes, and stayed down. I knocked him cold with my
first punch.

The only two people who weren't caught off guard by this turn of events were
Matt and I. We may have dressed like greenhorns, but this was not our first
time at the rodeo. That is to say, Matt and I had been in many, many fights
before, and we knew how to handle ourselves. Long story short, Sasquatch's
five pals flew out of their chairs towards me. As expected, my brother and
best friend Matt was instantly by my side.

Jazz went back to the booth near the back corner and watched Matt and I make
short work of the five bikers. Guys like them have a reputation for being
tough. Most of the time that's all it is: a reputation. Usually they gang up
on people and outnumber them like they tried to do with Matt and I. When it
comes to fighting actual trained athletes who know how to protect themselves,
these guys aren't so tough. Within five minutes, the two bikers that were
still conscious were no longer willing to fight.

I slapped Matt on the back and said, "Thanks, bro!"

He slapped me back and said, "Anytime, bro!"

I had to admit that it felt pretty good to have my brother at my side like
this. For the first time since Jazz had entered our lives, I felt like I had
my brother completely back. At this moment there was no part of us that were
rivals for Jazz's affection. It was a god feeling. I wondered if I ever could
get completely comfortable with sharing Jazz with him, or more correctly with
having Jazz use the both of us without getting jealous of him.

My musing was interrupted by a huge shadow that suddenly fell across the
doorway into Big Bertha's Place. There stood the largest woman I've ever seen.
She must have been close to seven feet tall. Her shoulders were as wide as the
biggest linebackers I ever faced back in my college football days. She was
wearing a back tank top covered by a denim vest similar to the ones worn by
Big Bertha's Boys. Her arms were thick and knotted with huge muscles. Her
large chest narrowed to a relatively slender waist. The tight black jeans and
knee high biker boots she wore showed off her thick muscular calves and
thighs. Her face was hard and yet not entirely unattractive.

She walked over to us slowly like a lioness stalking its prey. This woman
inhaled power and exhaled strength with every breath. "What's going on here?"
she asked. "Who said you two prepsters could come in here and bust up my place
and beat up my boys?" Apparently, Matt and I were standing face-to-chest with
Big Bertha herself.

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