The plough girl - part six 
By Diana the Valkyrie 
Gary in hospital

Olga

I arrived at the Golden Shower casino bright and early on the first
Monday of my new job, and changed from my travelling clothes into
my long black ball gown, with the long skirt and very full sleeves -
with a few frills and flounces. I didn't look at all like the plough
girl from Novovysoke.  I imagined trying to pull a plough in this
outfit, and I giggled.  It was totally impractical, and I thought
longingly of a short skirt, a loose blouse, the leather traces
and my beautiful plough, and I wished I was back in the field,
pulling my plough.

Back to reality. I was ready for my first shift.

We started at 8pm, finish would be at 4am, with a short break at
midnight.  I strolled around the gaming tables - I got a few stares,
because I'm several inches taller than most of the men there, and
a good foot above the women. But I took no notice, and continued
to patrol around, with my eyes wide open for trouble.

It didn't take long. I spotted a customer with his hand up one
of the girl's skirt. That was a clear breach of rules against
sexual harassment, so I marched over to him and told him rather
more loudly that necessary, "No sir, we do not put our hand up the
women's skirts."

His head swivelled to glare at me. "Mind your own business,"
he suggested.  "This is my business," I replied, "I'm one of the
bouncers here."

He guffawed, making a big production out of it. "You? Girlie, you
couldn't bounce a ping-pong ball." and he howled with laughter at his
own cleverness. I wanted to punch his stupid face, but I had to go
softly softly. I repeated, "Keep your hands to yourself. Or else."
"Or else what, girlie?" he chuckled. "Or else this," I explained,
and took his forearm in my hand and pulled it away from the mortified
woman, who immediately ran off. "And this," I said as I tightened
my grip, and pulled his arm so that it was between my thighs.

Hundreds of hours pulling a plough went into those thighs; they
were hard as oak and as strong as the ox that they replaced. I
brought my legs together, trapping his arm, then stood on tiptoe,
giving him the maximum stress. He tried to pull his arm away - he
might just as well have tried to pull a golf ball through a garden
hose. He was trapped, and I was steadily increasing the pressure.

I wasn't aiming to break anything, but I did want to give him a
bruise that he'd remember for a long time. He grunted as he tried to
escape my iron thighs. "Resistance is useless," I said - I've always
wanted to use that line. I could feel his arm compressing in the
grip of my thighs, and I could see his face turning red. And as soon
as I saw his eyes staring to water up, I released my grip on his arm.

"Or else that," I explained. "And I'm not a girlie, I'm a Ukrainian
plough girl, and you better behave in future, because I've marked
your card."

He nursed his arm with his good arm. "I suggest you out that in
a sling for a couple of weeks. It'll heal up, there should be
no permanent damage."  "I'm going to report you," he said, "you
can't do this. I'll sue."  I looked down at him and said, "You want
more? I can give you more." He hastily shook his head. "OK, then
you'll behave yourself in future, and we'll say no more about it."




Read the full story at http://www.amysconquest.com