M'Lady Muscle 
by Forrest Curran  


FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 
                                                                
 
 
             Chapter One: Incident on Everson Beach 
 
Sometimes the summer comes early. 
I was used to the high temperatures that can arrive like a shroud 
in late June and stay, like a relative who doesn't take a hint, 
until late September.  When that happens, it isn't until October 
finally rolls around that you feel that it has departed, and I 
usually find myself happy to see it go. 
But if there was one thing that made the summer heat bearable, 
that made the sticky clothes and hot summer traffic worthwhile, 
it was the beach. 
I had been told that when I moved out here, women would come 
quickly and easily.  I think that that was part of the mythology 
created about the place, and in the few months I had spent here 
since making my mid-winter move, I had found it to be just that.  
I spent the better part of the morning trying to convince my 
schoolteacher girlfriend to let her caution go to the wind, and 
dare to bare her winter flesh just a bit, even in a conservative 
one-piece swimsuit.  It would be a rare sight for me, too, as I 
had discovered early in my relationship with her that she 
possessed all the natural exhibitionist tendencies of the Queen 
of England.  I had given up, and when she reminded me that she 
had to correct some papers,  I decided to come alone. 
Even the newspapers were talking about how hot it was, and the 
people of the city responded to it, rustling up wives and 
kids and in-laws, and made a trek to the sea in mid-May. 
To put it another way, on this Sunday afternoon still in spring, 
the beach was crowded. 
I was standing at the soda machine trying to coax it to either 
return my fifty cents or send the nutrasweet down to my hand 
grown impatient as it waited... 
The machine was leaning up against the wall of the pavilion that 
served as a combination bathroom and changing room for the beach 
patrons.  I wasn't paying any particular attention to the 
conversation of the people that went by, but something in the 
voices of the two women stepping out of the shade of the 
building, having just slipped into their beach garb, caught my 
ear. 
"I swear Marlena, she was this big!", exclaimed a small, mousy- 
looking brunette in a high voice.  She was dressed in a bright 
yellow sunsuit, the same style as the one her friend wore, and 
was holding her hands high above her head. 
"...Muscles everywhere, too...",the high little voice continued. 
"Yucch", exclaimed her friend, a teased-hair peroxide job, 
shaking her head in disgust at the thought. 
Suddenly, the drink wasn't so important. 
I followed the two women.  I wasn't interested in meeting either 
one of them, though.  I was interested, however, in what they 
were talking about.  I heard a metallic thud come from behind me, 
and turned to see a child, gleefully waving a can of coke he had 
gotten from the machine by simply hitting it with his hand.  But 
I was too busy for that... 
"She was practically naked, too, it was so gross", she said, as 
she struggled with a beach bag almost as big as she was.  The two 
women made their way along the boardwalk, walking slowly, I 
thought, to display themselves in all their over-the-hill glory.  
They appeared to be the slightly overage bar girl type, who spend 
the day dressing as though they were twenty-one while trying 
desperately to catch the eye of Mister Right, and then spent the 
evening in the smoke, noise and bluster of the local nightclubs, 
trying to do the same.  The long hours had taken their toll. 
Their faces seemed drawn, and the loose flesh on their arms and 
jiggling thighs did not add anything redeeming to the picture. 
"She went down that way," said the little one again, pointing to 
a stretch of dune near the eastern end of the beach, where the 
public section officially ends and the two-mile long stretch of 
private beach began.  Often, the private beaches were used at 
night by teenagers in the off-season, for making out and drinking 
under cover of dark. 
"I'd never want to look like that!", exclaimed the little one 
again, as the two anxious maidens peeked over their shoulders to 
perhaps get a glimpse of her, appropriately disgusted and 
righteously outraged at the thought of a woman in far better 
condition than them, and no doubt, a good bit younger... 
They shook their heavily-teased, and, in at least one of their 
cases, very peroxided heads. 
Just then the large beach bag/pocketbook that the little woman 
was carrying slipped out of her hand, and she let out a cry as 
the sound of breaking glass was heard. 
"Shoot", she cried, "This bag is just too heavy, Marlena.  I 
can't handle it", she whined. 
I was walking so close to the two women that their sudden stop 
caused me to bump into the puff-hair blonde, my elbow sinking 
into the soft and flabby flesh of her upper arm.  I excused 
myself as I walked by. 
"Oh, that's quite alright!" she answered soothingly, pushing her 
oversized glasses up her head, her mating hormones switching on 
like that! 
I could feel her eyes on me as I walked past them, leaving the 
ladies to clean up the brown liquid that had began to seep out of 
the bag, iced tea that would go untasted. 
I went down to the beach feeling the excitement stirring within 
me and beginning to sweat; the sand was hot beneath my feet, 
almost burning, as I scanned the beach for a few minutes, 
searching in vain for the object of the ancient maidens'derision. 
Suddenly a commotion arose from the beach crowd, a noise of 
murmuring that started out back nearer the boardwalk and seemed 
to spread, as its source, walking slowly with the confidence that 
comes with pride, continued a trek to the surf. The course of 
travel was not particularly swift, but it was sure, and the 
object of the attention began to come into view. 
Heads shook. Some, as with the two beachflies on the boardwalk 
with the broken glass in their bag, were negative--unappreciative 
of the sights that they were seeing. Others were merely 
inquisitive, staring and then turning to their companions for a 
response to what they were seeing. 
Still others were frankly in awe at what they saw and looked 
blankly at the specter of early summer as it made it's way along 
the hot sand. 
But there must have been a few, though I could now know for sure, 
who beheld the sight with a strange lust they did not understand, 
who could not contain the feelings that were stirred by a sight 
such as this. 
I was one of them. 
For walking down the beach on a hot Sunday afternoon was a very 
singular female vision in a tiny swimsuit. Her name, as I was to 
find out, was Margo. And staring at Margo, I was to learn, had 
it's own risks.  And rewards. 
She was a revelation of muscle in a string bikini; tall and 
broad, with a physique so thickly chiseled it seemed almost 
inconceivable.  Her impossible physique was developed to a degree 
I had never seen before; not even on the late-night bodybuilding 
shows on cable TV.  Her swimsuit was almost illegal, and covered 
only what was required by law. That is, a tiny triangle of 
spandex that was easy to mistake for that which nature had given 
her.  Her  breasts, bold and big and mostly bare, adorned by 
only the same equally small triangles, merely decorated by the 
skimpy cloth, not covered by it .  The rest of the flesh of her 
awesome body was richly tan, a dark mahogany-brown; heavily, 
incredibly, muscled everywhere; wasp-waisted, and open for all to 
see. It was as though some primeval wizard had tried to build a 
woman from stone or oak or some impenetrable hard wood; and 
unsure of her purpose in that harsh world had decided to make her 
adaptable to any purpose that may present itself; giving her the 
awe-inspiring frame and musculature of the most elemental Amazon 
High Priestess,  as well as the huge perfect breasts and full 
curvaceous hips of a Siren; a Primitive Earth Goddess-Life Bearer 
going for a stroll on the dunes, as she surveyed her domain..... 
Her full round buttocks swayed with every step, as darkly tan as 
the rest of her. Cleavage protruded from her torso, big 
intimidating breasts that seemed to threatened an imminent 
explosion from that tiny top any second now... 
Margo lifted weights.  And it showed.  Boy, did it ever.....  
She carried a small athletic bag in one hand, and a pair of spiky 
high heels that looked, from where I stood at a distance, to be 
too small for a woman her size. 
By now you can tell that I was secretly fascinated by women like 
this.  She wasn't limited by the small, dainty frames that so 
many women have, their was no hesitancy in her bearing, in her 
approach.  This would be a woman who would look you in the eye 
and tell you what she wants; or perhaps, one who would just take 
it outright...  She was strong, and beautiful,  and I could not 
help but wonder what it would be like to be with a woman like 
that---a violation of the natural order, perhaps----after all, 
isn't it only natural that the woman be smaller, daintier, 
someone to watch over, as the song went?  What about a woman like 
this:  What about a woman big and strong enough to do as she 
pleased?  Would the natural order prevail just the same?  
Wouldn't she still have all the finer aspects of her sex?  Or 
would she be an Amazonian She-Devil, devouring smaller men that 
crossed her path?  Demanding satisfaction from her frantic 
lovers.... 
I hoped that she was a little of both... 
She was big, alright.  Unthinkably big.  Preposterously tall.  
Hopelessly gorgeous.  Incredibly stacked.   
A killer package of muscle, size, and sex.  And by the confident, 
slow and slinky way she walked and moved, she knew what she had.   
     
Her shoulders dwarfed those of almost every man on the beach, and 
no doubt caused quite a bit of inadequacy in some of the men in 
the crowd. Her arms were as large as the legs of the average 
woman on the beach, thick limbs wrapped in bicep, tricep, ...... 
All in all, a woman of imposing physique. 
Margo was built. 
And I had to get to her, no matter what. 
The head was a mane of lustrous blonde hair, loosely worn, it's 
full body flowing down and down; past the wide shoulders so 
heavily chiseled with muscle. There was a  serene confidence that 
emanated  strongly, an unstated yet apparent power that  
exhibited itself in the seemingly casual way she shook her head 
freely, the tresses flying wildly.  It seemed to say, for all who 
were interested, "This is me.  It's different.  You can't stop 
looking, can you?  Love it or leave it!" 
Here and there she coolly waved to someone she knew, barely 
showing recognition on her face behind dark sunglasses as she 
went, a small nod here, flick of a hand there, as they called out 
to her.  She did not stop walking, or even slow down.  She moved 
with purpose, wherever she was going.... 
The fact that she was a good head taller than most of the men on 
the beach , towering at over six foot seven, was enough to stop 
traffic.  For a moment, it seemed, even the bounding surf seemed 
to pause, as though a natural phenomena had been detected that 
even made nature pause. 
She stopped now, just for a moment, and set her blanket down on 
the sand, having moved diagonally across the beach to where the 
crowd thins out decidedly, perhaps sparing her from excessive 
stares...? 
Like mine?. 
Then she kept walking, down to the surf now, the waves meekly 
washing up against her powerfully-muscled yet shapely legs as she 
waded in shallow water.  For just a moment it seemed that she 
would keep walking, down into the sea, to return to whatever 
Asgaard had created her.  With feminine grace, she knelt in the 
surf, and splashed herself with the ocean that was still full of 
winter chill.  But she did not register any shiverings, as she 
continued to scoop the frigid fluid onto her skin with a 
strangely gentle, even girlish movement.  That was a remarkable 
thing about her---despite her awesome muscularity, her every move 
was at the same time reminiscent of the light touch of the All- 
American Beauty Queen...A profound femininity had met ferocious 
muscularity, and rather than one conquer the other, they had 
conjoined to form a creature both quintessentially female and 
incredibly powerful.  They made for a mesmerizingly attractive 
package....She was like a futuristic momument of some kind, 
brought back to the late-twentieth century somehow, as both a 
warning of things to come for some, and a hope, for some others, 
of what was to be... 
She turned to the sands, walking slowly back to her blanket, 
smiling a bit, and enjoying the commotion she knew her mere 
presence was causing. 
It was certainly causing a commotion with me.  All her hard tan 
flesh was like a dangerous and heady potion for my eyes. 
Everybody else's eyes were on her, too, it seemed... 
A guy walked up to her as she walked, magnificent, dripping wet, 
and she stopped, looking down at him with amusement.  He was 
tryiing his best to impress her, but she would have none of it, 
and he soon backed off, leaving her to her privacy, such as it 
was.  
My pulse was pounding, and it felt as though there was a half-ton 
weight on my chest, as I watched her cut a path across the sands, 
leaving stunned and awed people in her wake. 
Now and then someone would be looking in another direction as she 
passed by; their heads would look up to see who or what was 
throwing such an enormous shadow over their spot on the sands as 
she passed; the look of shock on their faces was uniform. 
She walked with long, undulating strides over to that quiet 
corner of the otherwise busy beach, where she had sat down her 
blanket, a startlingly beautiful natural phenomena in blonde 
hair, muscle, and curves. 
She ran her hands through her thick mane of hair now, her power 
obvious in even this small and sensual act, and presently pulled 
a rubber band from her bag, pulling the gorgeous hair into a neat 
bun; the hard muscles of her abdomen flexed as she raised her 
arms over her head. She lay down on the white blanket and spread 
that massive, hardbody of female muscle on a blanket, offering 
her frame to the sun, like a high priestess, her sinewy arms 
spread out from her torso on the blanket. I was transfixed, and I 
knew that I would have to spend the next hour trying to think of 
a way to get near her. But what to say? The bold approach? Walk 
right up to her? Not likely, especially when my lady-love-to-be 
outweighed me by some one hundred and fifty pounds.  A rejection 
here could not only be embarrassing, but dangerous for my health 
as well! 
Maybe I could catch her eye?  Not bloody likely, as they say in 
England. I was fairly good-looking, sure, but not in a way that 
would catch her eye, if you know what I mean.... 
She now began rubbing lotion all over the mountainous body, the 
white lotion fading into mahogany skin and oaken muscle. My 
excitement tripled as I watched the slow, firm circles she made 
on her flesh, the sun-darkened skin absorbing the cocoa oils like 
balm. 
She took on a glow. A power that both promised and threatened 
exuded from her every pore. Huge breasts, magnificent, perfect, 
caught the sun, every contour of that amazing physique , both 
from the assets of her sex and the sessions spent with hard 
steel,  caught in the sun's rays, as though being showcased for 
the stunned, worshipful eyes of whoever was lucky enough to be 
there. 
I watched for some time. Quietly, with as little fanfare as 
possible, I took the few beach things I had with me, and moved 
over to that same relatively empty section of the beach, but 
close to where I could spy my mega-ladylove.  Presently, she 
turned over, and the small g-string bikini bottom showed itself, 
a small string disappearing between two perfect buttocks, 
muscular, round and shining.  What would it be like to be with 
her? 
Would she be a kind creature of affection, or a woman imbued with 
the harshness her strength implied? 
Would there be the gentleness that comes with great strength, the 
assuredness that her vast physique would imply by it's mere 
presence, or would that elemental strength display itself 
outwardly, without subtlety? 
She would be dramatic--entering a darkened room; naked.  The 
light from the hallway would silhouette her body, statuesque and 
powerful, her features indistinguishable in the shadow, only her 
huge and perfect shape apparent to me.  Filling the doorway, she 
would stand there, unmoving, her size eclipsing most of the light 
now, as she leaned both muscular arms against the doorframe. She 
tosses the blonde mane now; casually, with a sensual grace as it 
falls obediently behind her in a long, flowing wave of golden 
hair, streaming... 
 
I had to get cooled down. I reluctantly got up, and walked to the 
surf that pounded on the shore, my head turned the whole time, 
staring at this prophecy of power. 
I found myself walk right into a beach bunny, a teenage girl in a 
small blue swimsuit, proudly displaying her adolescent charms.  
She saw the state of  distraction I had been reduced to by the 
accumulation of female muscle basking in ultraviolet.  " Hey, 
Mister," she teased, "why don't you ask her out?" 
And she jiggled down the beach, amused at her own wit. 
I walked absently along the surf and tried to get myself 
composed, leaving the public beach behind me.  I began swimming 
in the strong sea, waves crashing onto shore.  I found that my 
pulse, though heightened by the exercise, return to a relatively 
normal state in comparison to what I had been experiencing on the 
sands.  I ducked beneath the waves and enjoyed the day, and I 
even started ogling the beach girls who lay on the private 
beaches of their daddies' stilt-supported homes, gorgeous places 
built years ago on sand that had been, at the time, deeper and 
thicker around the stanchions, the receding sand levels revealed  
in the fading rings on the wood, year after year after year, 
dropping lower and lower as I kept walking along the beach.  I 
wondered how long it would be until nature took the houses 
altogether, revealing the arrogance of their construction against 
the most unstoppable force in the world.  They would collapse one 
day, in a storm, perhaps, under a gale of wind and a slam of 
prehistoric ocean; or possibly they would die gradually, finally 
giving way on the calmest of days, as daughters bared their rumps 
to the summer sun just yards away, and giggled as they gossiped.  
 
But the defeat and humiliation of the lovely and expensive old 
homes was coming, and anyone who looked closely could see it, 
too...The luxury and splendor and architectural ingenuity would 
be dashed to the ground for all world to see, an unstoppable and 
inevitable force reclaiming the fickle sand that the whole 
structure was based upon.  Brute force always won out, even when 
it fought an architect's computer schematic that claimed the 
battle would be different this time.....  
My thoughts returned to the more immediate matters at hand, and 
as I walked closer to this next house, the last one for more than 
a mile, I saw several women in the distance, laying in the sun. I 
wasn't too lost in philosophical thought that I hadn't noticed 
them!  I lost sight of them now as I continued to walk, the dunes 
having been re-arranged by the high tide and high winds recently 
receded.  A high wall of sand hugged the shoreline, and I climbed 
it at it's lowest peak now, and tried to casually stroll by the 
women for no reason other than voyeurism. There was a high growth 
of sand grass, and I could hear their high-pitched talking, the 
words as yet undistinguishable, but the sing-song tones a clear 
sign that the girls were no more than teens, who no doubt were 
talking of college boys with dreamy awe while they bobbed their 
heads to the pop music that I could hear on the unseen music box. 
I was looking just for the sake of it, enjoying the prospect of 
viewing bikini-clad female bodies; and was aware that their 
youthful ages made any contact unlawful, not to mention immoral. 
There were limits, after all, even for a still-collegiate looking 
guy in his early thirties.... 
Suddenly, the grass cleared, the sand hills flattened, and I was 
mere feet from the three young girls....I would just walk by 
slowly, nod maybe, and smile.  Maybe they'd think I was still a 
bit "dreamy" myself, and I'd walk  along the beach a little more 
pleased with myself than I was before.  Male ego, you know. 
I was unprepared for the commotion I was about to cause... 
There was no way I could have known what I was about to stumble 
across.  I could not be expected to anticipate that the three 
young girls I had seen in the distance, anxious to get a 
jumpstart on their tans and their confidence boosted by numbers 
and the privacy they thought was offered them from wandering 
intruders, had removed their bikinis entirely, and lay in their 
birthday suits in the early summer sun.  We all stood frozen for 
just a moment, not comprehending the invasion I had just 
perpetrated, however innocently (or semi-innocently) it had been 
intended. 
 
The three girls were well-developed. One was clearly in her last 
years of her teens; her full breasts, nipples as yet unused for 
their original purpose, standing erect on their breasts, which in 
turn had the gravity-defying grace of untouched youth.  The only 
hint of adult sophistication was the touch of make-up she wore, 
and the elaborate twirl of her hair as it swooped above her head. 
Perspiration glowed on her pale skin as she lay on her back, legs 
crossed. 
Her eyes, thankfully, were closed. 
The second was a bit younger, and already quite tan, firm and 
athletic. She had a beautiful figure, shapely with no visible 
trace of bodyfat, just hard lean flesh.  She lay on her stomach, 
buttocks sweat-soaked and dripping, hair loose down her back.  
Apparently, she was trying to tan and thus blend the small areas 
of white flesh on her glutes that stood out from amongst the 
darker skin. 
Still another girl, about the same age as the second, was laying 
on her back, knees up, legs slightly apart.  I got a brief but 
shocking glance at her pink vagina, surrounded by a heavy growth 
of localized hair; she had apparently trimmed the outlying 
growths herself, amateurishly, to accommodate her now-removed 
bikini bottom.  Her virginal lips were engorged and swollen under 
the basking rays of the sun, and her big nipples were hard around 
wide areolae.  She had a slightly heavy build, with big breasts 
and a broad back, her waist still somewhat trim, but with large 
thighs and buttocks that covered quite an expanse of the blanket 
upon which the three girls lay.  Her body did not yet possess the 
folds of loose flesh that would soon be hers, with the passage of 
time and the pull of Newton's Law, and without dieting and 
exercise.  But she looked to be a truly erotic sight, a young 
girl sexually unaware, naked and giggling and content in the 
privacy she now shared with her very best girlfriends... 
It was a sight that would occur to me in the strange nights to , 
come; the three young beauties naked and giggling and content in 
the early summer sun; life and romance awaiting them.... 
I would think of it late at night as I lay dazed and winded from 
the spiraling changes in my life, changes as yet unknown to me; 
that were rushing to meet me like a runaway train.... 
Presently, her hand went briefly to her privates, and it seemed 
to me that she was brushing away a grain of sand, or some stray 
beachfly that had become attracted to her already-womanly scent 
grown musky in the heat.  I did not clearly hear what she was 
saying at the time, but later, as I sat alone under circumstances 
different yet somehow strangely similar to these, I would realize 
what she said.  She was making a remark about how good the sun 
felt on her pussy, and how horny it was making her, a remark made 
with the lascivious wholesomeness of a young virgin with a crush. 
 
One of the other girls, probably the one on her stomach, made a 
remark that seemed to contain the name of a boy whose very 
mention caused the chubby girl to blush with embarrassment, even 
in the summer sun. 
They all laughed, even the victim of the joke now, her big 
breasts giggling as they hung on either side of her chest. 
 
It was a strange thought I had as they first saw me and began 
letting out the screeching and mortified sounds that only 
teenaged girls know how to make. These were girls as yet unused 
by life, pristine bodies untouched by life, and exposed to little 
more than a backseat grope.  My mind flashed ahead into the 
future that awaited all three of them, the pale brunette becoming 
hard and spoiled, scornful of anything that smacked of middle 
class;  the blonde a playgirl, a model perhaps, but a playgirl 
all the same, cavorting with tennis pros and race car drivers; 
there would be parties and engagements that ended mysteriously, 
with scandalous whispers that echoed to the gossip columns. 
The third girl would grow fat and end up in the nightclubs 
perhaps; or if she were lucky, she might find a hard-working man 
who cared for her.  Still, she would always tell her girlfriends 
of the terrible day that she was spotted, naked and chubby, 
rubbing her sun-swollen vagina, in full view of a strange man. 
They continued to howl and screech,  and I half-jumped.   l 
stammered an apology as the three neophyte nudists, their reverie 
shattered, continued to pierce the still air with panicked 
humiliation.  The blonde jumped up, defiantly naked, revealing 
herself in all her bare-skinned glory, her athlete's pride in her 
body overcoming any desire to run, or cover up; she was too angry 
for that.  I noticed that her breasts, full and seemingly shaped 
by the same athletic sculptor who gave her life, had the same 
small triangles of white surrounding the nipples.  She threw a 
small damp towel at me with a practiced grace, and made her aim 
true, hitting me in the face at fifteen feet.  For whatever 
reason, though, my gaze turned to the far girl, legs now snapping 
shut, hands going to her groin.  The move was ineffective---her 
knees were still high in the air, and her lips still slightly 
visible through her thick pubic bush.  I lost my vision now as 
the towel hit it's target, and I heard the pale girl curse me, as 
I turned and ran through the high grass blindly, throwing the 
towel to the ground as I ran. I heard one of the girls--my hunch 
being the pale one again, both from her prior poses and the 
manner and timbre of the call--scream for her father, and I 
stumbled off balance, the high green grass scratching my legs as 
I ran, until I fell to the sands below the ridge, landing on the 
hard sand, damp from ocean spray. 
I got up and I kept running in the same direction from which I 
had come.. 
I had covered a good deal of ground in five minutes, and felt I 
was safe from any summerhouse posses angered by my voyeurism.  It 
was strange; the entire incident, from the moment of my discovery 
of the three naked young ladies, to my fall to the caked sand 
beneath the ridge, could not have take more than seven or eight 
seconds, and yet as I replayed the whole thing in my mind, it 
seemed longer somehow.  Maybe,I admitted to myself, I was just 
savoring it. 
I shook my head, amused at my own licentiousness, and decided to 
swim my way back to the beach, and give my hormones and their 
outward signs that resulted from them, a chance to cool off... 
 
Still, all things being equal, I admitted to myself as I started 
the long swim back in shallow water, that pretty as they were, 
the teenaged beachgirls were trinkets of amusement; diversions 
for a moment, nothing more....The stuff of teenage male dreams, 
to be courted at drive-ins and shopping malls.  They weren't 
women.  They didn't understand the adult world.  Or the needs of 
an adult man. 
 
 
The sea can be a tricky thing. One day it can be calm. Another 
day it can be as fierce enough to bring a ship off it's glassy 
surface and down into it's depths. In my determination to get 
away from the big-muscled distraction, as well as the young 
girls, both seemingly unattainable, I had decided to push through 
the surf and demonstrate to myself that my Amazon Goddess wasn't 
the only one who had strength. 
But the surf had other ideas. 
Slowly, I found myself swimming harder and harder and getting 
nowhere. I almost welcomed the challenge at first, and swam hard 
against the current. As my arms turned leaden with fatigue, I 
turned and saw that the shore was disappearing, and I began to 
fight the feeling that I was out of control. 
I was in desperate straits.  
Exhaustion soon began to pull me underwater. My lungs started to 
take in water, gulped as I furiously fought for breath. And 
through it all, the current continued to pull me further and 
further away from the safety of the shore. I looked to land, 
hoping that somebody saw my desperate position. But I was still 
far off to the side of the beach , out of view and jurisdiction 
of the lifeguards, who were no doubt busy attending to the 
various sunscreen needs of the female classmates of the young 
ladies I had just fled. 
I got more and more frantic in my attempts to keep composed. 
Conversely, I began spending more and more time underwater, and 
less time on the surface.  The taste of saltwater filled my 
mouth, and increasingly, my stomach. I now felt the undertow pull 
my trunks from my body.  But still I kept fighting the pull... 
But inevitably I knew I would lose, and felt myself sliding under 
the fierce undertow of ocean and current.  My mind locked onto 
the fact that I was being punished for my transgressions on the 
dignity of the young girls, and I began coughing as more and more 
saltwater crept into my lungs.  I felt that first surrender take 
over, that first refusal of the body to the survival instincts of 
the mind. 
An old saying goes that when something like this happens, you see 
your life flash in front of your eyes.  I did, and man, was it 
dull...Why had I moved to this part of the country where I didn't 
know a soul? 
My one attempt at contact was one-sided, and going nowhere, I 
knew.  I was reduced to wandering around beaches by myself, 
ogling athletic she-gods and naked virgins.  None of whom I would 
ever have..... 
Suddenly, from under me, came a surging force.  I didn't know 
what it was at first, whether I had been taken to the nether- 
world, to be tortured for my hedonism, or if my bad luck had been 
compounded by falling into the hands of some sea creature who 
would leave my half-chewed remains on the shoreline tomorrow 
morning, to be discovered by lovers strolling at sunrise. 
But now I was being lifted up out of the water.  Coughing and 
spluttering, I could not tell what had gotten hold of me.  All I 
knew was that I was safe, and headed for shore under someone 
else's power.  My eyes cleared of salt water, my lungs quieting, 
slowing down in their involuntary heaving of swallowed sea. 
I found myself deposited down onto the sand, and looked up into 
the midday sun at my savior, backlit in glare. 
"You should be more careful", came a female voice, sultry and 
steady. 
I peered up to see my Amazon, dripping with oceanspray, hovering 
over me.  "These are yours", she said, producing my swimsuit.  In 
my bedraggled state, I had failed to notice my unclothed state; I 
was suddenly especially grateful that I was some distance from 
the nearest beachgoer. 
I thanked her in a weak voice, coughing up more spray and strug- 
gling into my wet suit.  She stood there for a long moment, not 
trying to conceal the fact that she was looking frankly at my 
bared nether-regions.  Consciously flexing her the vast muscula- 
ture of her upper body, I saw the huge breasts dance in their 
tiny halter; she now raised her line of sight, to look right at 
me.  "Well, if you're so grateful, why don't you show it?  You 
can come over and join me when you recover.  I need someone to 
put sunscreen on my back", she offered, pointing towards her 
blanket, smiling with amusement at the spluttering and hacking 
guy at her feet who was approximately half her size.  "Somehow I 
think you know where I am".  I nodded, abashed and I watched her 
walk away,  the strength in her legs making themselves apparent 
with each long step, prominent hips swaying.  
 
Given the right motivation, you can recover from just about 
anything.  So it was with me.  Minutes later, gathering my 
courage as well as my belongings, I walked slowly over to the 
musclegoddess, who lay brown, big and unmoving under the early 
summer sun. 
I must have stood there for two minutes, trying to think of some 
way to get her attention, while wildly drinking in the close-up 
first-hand view I was getting of her incredibly voluptuous 
architecture, dark buttocks moist with perspiration, roasting 
under the sun, seeming, in their repose, to be gathering strength 
from the sun itself. 
She lay there on her stomach, head resting on the arm grown huge 
from training.  I saw a huge vein that wrapped around the thick 
limb, running down the arm like a raging river with it's  
tributaries, thinning out as it reached her forearm... 
She finally saw me. 
"Oh", she said, her eyes still hidden from me by the sunglasses 
she wore, "it's you", as though my appearance was a 
disappointment to her, that her invitation had been just a casual 
formality not meant to be taken seriously. 
"Well, make yourself useful.  My legs need some lotion", she 
said, pointing a long, white fingernail at the sunscreen on the 
blanket at her feet. 
I began applying the lotion to her wonderfully muscular calves, 
the muscle hard even now, as she lay relaxed under the 
ultraviolet.  The excitement of the moment began to get to me, I 
suppose, because presently, my hands started to shake. 
"Oh, god, " she uttered with disdain, noticing my apparent 
nervousness, "another guy falling in love with big Margo...'Dear 
Mom:  I met Ms. Right today on the beach.  She's a big hot 
bodybuilder, and I'm in love!'", she said, sarcastically. 
She put her head back down on her arm, and seemed to go to sleep. 
I could not tell for sure, as the sunglasses denied me any 
glimpse of her eyes. 
Again, I waited for her to say something.  Picking up women, 
truth be told, is a skill that I have mastered only as well as I 
danced or played the piano; that is, I have driven dance teachers 
to encourage my interest in a musical instrument, and music 
teachers to encourage the beauty of the dance.  
I sat down on the blanket I spread next to hers, a small portable 
stand between us. 
"Go get me a coke", came her voice, from deep under her arm. 
 
I was back with two cokes in minutes, the machine working this 
time, as if it knew that the person who ordered them would not 
take any nonsense such as it had given to me.... 
She must have heard me coming, because no sooner had I approached 
the blanket than she shot up, taking the first coke, and downing 
it quickly, in one long swallow.  She put the cup on the small 
stand, and looked up at me with surprise. 
"Give me this", she said, reaching for my coke. 
She opened the plastic lid, and poured it out on the sand.  She 
then handed the empty cup back to me. 
"When I say get a coke, get A Coke.  One, not two, understand?" 
She lay down on her back, and went back to sleep. 
 
It must have been an hour later, when she finally took off the 
sunglasses, and looked at me.  I had been spending the whole time 
trying to steal glances at her, not sure if she was watching me 
all the while behind her Ray-Bans.  So I had been discreet, but 
not so discreet that my mind had not taken over in wild 
fantasies, as I watched the vast superstructure of her body 
writhe slowly in the sun.  The powerful muscles contracted and 
flexed with every movement.  Boy, was I hooked.... 
"We're leaving", she announced, removing the sunglasses now, and 
looking right at me with hard eyes, light blue and cold as 
icebergs. "Pack everything up", she ordered, still unmoving on 
the blanket. 
I leapt to this call to duty, and in so doing made my first 
mistake.  I knocked over the small stand, sending the coke 
container full of half-melted icewater flying, and it arced 
through the air, falling towards her as she lay on the blanket. 
It landed on her midsection, and it seemed to me at the time that 
it took a long time for it all to fall.  Accidents can be like 
that, I suppose, a kind of slow-motion taking over, the second 
time today that I had noticed the phenomenon, but I was to find 
out later that no accident goes unpunished with this woman..  
She did not yell as the frigid water hit her abdomen, the skin 
contracting tightly around her muscular midsection, the already 
chiseled flesh turned all the harder, as the pores of the skin 
closed involuntarily. 
"Idiot", she said, looking over at me, not moving for a moment, 
just staring hard with contempt at me, before toweling it off. 
Then, she stood. 
Even though we were a little distance from the nearest 
sunbathers, there was a pause on those sands, a wave of murmur as 
she stood up, magnificently self-assured, and stretched.  I 
watched with my mouth wide open with awe... 
"Hey", she called down to me, "get a move on". 
She grabbed a pair of spike-heeled backless shoes, and began to 
walk towards the boardwalk.  I watched those two perfect 
buttocks, bare and brown and perfect round, as she walked with a 
cool, panther-like grace, muscular legs slowly propelling their 
owner up to her destination, the hips rolling sensuously. 
I gathered our belongings quickly, a bit frantic that this 
astounding woman might not wait for me if I dawdled to long, and 
soon I was chasing after that glorious woman. 
As I made my way, I could already see that she had stopped, 
standing on the top step of the stairway that led to the wooden 
boardwalk.  She leaned against the handrail with one hand, and 
even from a distance, I saw the powerful arm flex it's muscles 
slightly, it's feline power a treat to behold, her mere presence, 
as she stood there, causing people to drop an ice cream cone, or 
to trip as I had done before.  I smiled as I observed a bicycler, 
dumbstruck by this testimony to female perfection as she stood, 
like a visitor from Olympus, surveying the sands; distracted, he 
now crashed at slow speed into the low benches that dotted the 
boardwalk, and he fought for balance for a moment, before 
tumbling down in an awkward slipslide, both pride and body 
slightly the worse for wear, as Margo chuckled at his plight. 
 
 
She slipped the shoes onto feet that were surprisingly small for 
a woman so huge, almost dainty, and stood there, her hands on her 
hips, scanning the sands for her beachboy, who was running now, 
arms full of bags and blankets, to her side. 
I stood on the steps, chest heaving.  She seemed annoyed that I 
would approach her in so disheveled a state, a look of contempt 
on her face again, as though my disorderly arrival somehow 
detracted from the scene that she wished to present to her 
public. 
She took down the long, thick blonde hair now, and stuck out her 
hand to me. 
"Brush", she ordered, like a surgeon awaiting an instrument.  I 
stood dumbstruck for just a second, until I realized that the 
brush had to be in her bag.  I rummaged anxiously for it, finally 
finding it wedged into its cavernous interior.  When I hopped up 
the step to proudly hand it to her, she seemed vaguely disgusted 
with the whole idea.... 
She brushed the long, waist-length blonde hair, stroke after long 
and steady stroke.  She pushed the brush down the entire length 
of the hair, so as to remove any clumps or knots that might have 
gathered.  A couple passed by, a small older woman and her 
husband, bespectacled and equally slight.  He was transfixed by 
this nearly naked, monumental woman, who ignored him and 
everybody else, despite her bare skin, in order to attend to her 
own needs.  His neck craned as they continued to walk, past her 
now, and along the walk. 
"Hmmph, they get more and more brazen", I heard the woman say 
under her breath in a stage-whisper.  But the husband kept 
looking, and it was only when they had almost disappeared down 
the path that he turned back to face his wife..and, I knew, 
trouble.... 
 
There was a sound along the boardwalk now, raises voices, and 
even Margo dropped her cool, inward aloofness to turn and see 
what the commotion was all about. 
A couple, walking along in the midday sun, were arguing as they 
went, his tone was harsh, hers pleading.  The woman began to cry, 
emotion overcoming her, tears now running down her face.  Her 
male companion was looking at her disgustedly, as he walked next 
to her. 
"I'll do whatever the hell I want to, you little bitch", he said 
to her, his voice audible and harsh, his beer belly shaking as he 
emphasized his words with outhrusted arms, raging at her. 
She only continued to cry, bemoaning her fate, frightened and 
helpless under whatever dictum he had deigned as law.  She was 
small, her bikini fitting her loosely, like a little girl who had 
borrowed her big sister's swimsuit.  Her slim shoulders shook, 
and I noticed that she was carrying most of the beach gear, 
despite the face that her companion was a good bit bigger than 
she was.... 
Now he raised a hand, like a pitcher preparing to throw his 
fastball, and slapped her hard against her face.  The force of 
the blow was strong enough to propel her backwards several feet, 
the slap audible for yards around them. 
The small woman became hysterical. 
The big woman became enraged. 
Margo ran over to them, the man's face registering satisfaction 
at his disciplinary action for only a moment. 
Until he saw Margo. 
She was mere feet away from him by then, and she was still 
coming, her vast size and bulk racing with the speed and animal 
grace of an angry lioness as she vaulted upon some prey, some 
violator, who had threatened the safety of her cub.   
She grabbed him by the wide collar of the beach shirt he wore, 
and lifted him off his feet with ease, holding him high, shaking 
him, the buttons of the shirt straining, the shirttail falling 
out of the shorts, exposing his expanded paunch, as it hung over 
his pants. 
"Listen, Mister", Margo said, as still another group of strollers 
began to take notice of her powerful display, "if you 
ever..EVER... raise your hand to her again, I'm personally gonna 
hunt you down and break your neck, do you understand me!"  Her 
voice shook with a deep-seated rage, her cool gone now, replaced 
by a hot fire that seemed contained only by a considerable force 
of will on her part. 
He didn't answer, only emitting small choking sounds as her 
suspended by her powerful arms, high over the ground. 
Finally, he nodded with a desperation that suggested he was doing 
so only out of a reluctance to choke to death..... 
Margo let him go, and he fell at her feet, crumpled and defeated.  
His wife, her face swelling from the force of the blow, ran to 
his side, offering tender words of comfort to the man who had 
just come very close to knocking her unconscious. 
Margo stood over them, the man averting his eyes from her.  The 
woman ignored her, too, but once, just once, I caught her looking 
at Margo..... 
The powerful female had turned and walked back towards where I 
was standing, where I had been watching the whole remarkable 
display.  Margo's back was to the woman, but I saw the small 
tear-stained woman look up and down at Margo now, as she walked 
away, grateful to the woman who had stood up for her. For just a 
moment, a gleam of that admiration came in her eyes, a look of 
thanks for her salvation.  Perhaps now, she must have thought, 
after he had been brought into line---and by a woman, no less, 
however large---perhaps now things would be different. 
Somehow, Margo sensed the eyes on her back, and turned to look 
over her shoulder. 
The two women smiled at one another; not real smiles; they didn't 
move a single muscle of their faces.  I was sure of that; I 
watched them both closely all the while.  Still, there was a look 
that flashed in both pairs of eyes, for just a second... 
It was clear that an unspoken sisterhood had made itself heard, 
and seen, in subtle female shorthand, in that one powerful moment 
on a boardwalk at Everson Beach. 
The couple stood.  They began to walk back to the pavillion, to 
attend to their various injuries and, perhaps, come to an 
understanding.... 
He picked up the heavy bag and carried it.  Margo nodded 
approvingly, a small grin coming now, that vanished as she turned 
to me... 
The small crowd of gawkers dispersed in various directions, 
impressed with the giant woman and her heroic display. 
A group of slimly-built young girls in their early 20's passed us 
now, on the way for some late-afternoon sunshine.  They talked 
amongst themselves, and had no doubt witnessed Margo's rescue of 
the underbuilt and overwhelmed woman, and the talking stopped as 
they passed us.  One of them, a small redhead in an emerald green 
bikini, turned as she walked down the steps, and offered a thumbs 
up to the muscular blonde goddess. Margo nodded back, with a 
slight smile, with the cool assurance of a woman used to alot of 
attention.  She was all cool attitude, hot muscle, hotter curves, 
and astonishing breasts, and had just issued a warning to bullies 
who would pick on weak little women. 
"Come on, pal", she said finally, when her hair was combed out 
and retied into a ponytail that met with her satisfaction,  
"We're going home now..." 
And she flexed a huge bicep, the sun-browned skin straining to 
contain the bulging muscle of her arm as it popped to a head.  
I didn't know which to ogle, her powerful arm displaying it's 
delightful wares, or all the vast cleavage that abounded from the 
torso around the tiny bikini top.... 
She smiled, and blew me a kiss.... 
The first of many that were to come, I hoped. 
 
 
FROM                THE AMAZON'S ARENA BBS           714-840-1145 
 
 
                 Chapter Two: Margo's Pleasures 
 
The house was large, and on a quiet part of town that I didn't 
recognize.  She had marched me into a second floor guest room 
that was cool and dark and shuttered tight, blinds and curtains 
closed against the late-day sun. 
Immediately, Margo went to work.  She did not turn on the 
electric lights; preferring to light the candelabra that lay on 
the night table to combat the darkness.  The room took on the 
soft flow of the three small flames.... 
  The first words that she had spoken since the beach came now, 
crisp and succinct, spoken in a soft, firm, and sultry command: 
"Take off your clothes right now...", she said, as casually as 
she might order a busboy to bring her some water... 
Standing there imperiously, she surveyed her new conquest as I 
removed the t-shirt I had thrown over my torso, as well as the 
lightweight sweat pants I had donned in the car. 
 She was a vision of primal sex and strength.  Her aroma, a 
strange combination of sweetness and musk, filled the room.  She 
stood there, hands on hips, so as to accentuate the thick 
muscular cuts of her shoulders and upper arms, flexing them just 
a bit as I remove my clothing.  She herself was still dressed in 
the scanty outfit she had donned as she got into the car. She had 
been parked in a secluded spot, and before getting in had turned 
her back to me, pulling off the scanty top of her bikini, and 
pulled the tank top over her incredibly huge torso, and down that 
gorgeous back.  This, I thought as I removed the last of my 
clothing and folding the lightweight pants, was as close to being 
dressed as she usually comes; the small tank top, revealing her 
vast shoulders;  cut low on her abundant breasts, her huge upper 
body fairly bursting through the cloth, the fabric visibly 
straining at the attempt to contain the larger-than-life assets 
of this astounding woman;  her large nipples poking visibly 
through the thin, almost-sheer cloth; a skin-tight micro- 
miniskirt that extends to cover her pubes barely and her buttocks 
only at times.  Her legs; incredible legs, as though a master 
craftsman had taken mightiest redwood and hewn from it, with 
infinite care, and on a scale demanded by so basic and thick a 
working substance a perfect reproduction of a heavily-muscle 
female leg, exquisitely and sleekly powerful thighs, quads and 
calves prominent and brazenly bared; and yet trim at the instep, 
and ending in surprisingly small and girlish feet encased in the 
highest of spike-heeled decadence. 
I found myself enjoying her confident attitude, the masterful way 
she had addressed this situation; as though her body spoke it's 
own natural shorthand, it's mere presence taking command of the 
situation as though by natural authority....   
Any reservations I might have were overwhelmed by this singular 
woman's muscular beauty, and I decided to give in to whatever she 
might bid me to do.  After all, what good is an obsession if you 
don't explore it just a bit?  And besides, show me another woman 
on that beach who looked as good as she does... 
She raised an eyebrow, as she surveyed her new conquest, naked 
save for my still-damp swimsuit.   
"I can see that I'd better not be too rough with you",she said.  
"I might break something on that frame...But first", she smiled, 
"I have a little business to attend to", she announced, a wicked 
smile coming to her cruelly beautiful face...   
"First you spilled the soda.  Now this?", she asked as though 
disappointed with me, nodding towards my groin.  
"When I say strip, I don't mean halfway.", she growled 
threateningly in a deep sultry voice. " Now you're gonna get it.   
Big Margo is gonna give you a good spankin'!  And there ain't a 
thing you can do about it," she said, with obvious relish.   
She was right.  I glanced again at this woman, pounds and pounds 
of insurmountable muscle covering her gigantic yet shapely frame. 
She approached me with two long and firm strides, confident in my 
helplessness to resist.  For my part, I was busy trying to comply 
with her previous order, and had half-removed my swimsuit, trying 
to step out of it as it had locked around my knees.  Before I 
could offer resistance, she grabbed me and pulled me to a chair, 
threw me easily over her knee, and secured me there, my arms 
locked between the hard muscle-sculpted thighs. 
 
"That's twice you did as you damn well pleased when I gave you an 
order.  This is just gonna be a little get-acquainted session," 
she said, firmly, "so you know that when I tell you something I 
mean it!" 
With that, firm volleys slapped against my bared rear, small 
grunts of satisfaction emitting from her as she reigned down upon 
my with her taloned hand.   
"How's it feel, little man?", she taunted in a voice that 
betrayed anger and perhaps a rage at something or someone in the 
past; as though she were using my rump to assuage some long-ago 
hurt... 
"Better tell Margo how you like it, baby doll", she said, as the 
skin of my rump burned with her hard crackings, the sharp sounds 
of skin meeting skin violently and swiftly filling my ears... 
"Well?", she said, the spanking continuing unabated.. 
"Yes, ma'am", I said, in a hoarse voice. 
Margo laughed.  
"Well, I was gonna stop, but since you're having such a good 
time, I'll keep going. Okay?" 
I felt helpless, and after a moment or so, I did not resist, my 
only protest the small cries of shock and pain as a particularly 
hard slap came down on my skin, echoing a wicked crack through 
the room.  This seemed to please her, and her slaps became more 
playful now, sharp little slaps on a behind upon which she had 
made her point.  The flesh of her powerful thighs felt smooth and 
cool underneath me.   
She stopped now, to pull the tangled trunks from my ankles. 
Moments later, her lust for punishment seemingly slacked for now, 
she threw me off her lap, strutting out of the room, leaving me 
stunned on the hard floor, my behind throbbing.  
She turned over her shoulder.  "There's a shower down the hall.  
Find it and use it, and  be back here in five minutes." 
Then she disappeared, my clothing in hand, into the bathroom..... 
Well!  At least I had the answer to the questions I asked myself 
on the beach.  She was a commanding, violent woman.  I should 
have run then and there, I guess.  If I had been thinking 
clearly.  If I knew what I might be in for.  If I had been able 
to summon the strength to resist this woman that, I knew even 
then, was irresistible. ... 
I found the shower at the end of the hall.  I knew that what was 
happening was strange, bizarre....But the thought of her, the 
sight of her, the scent of her aroma, the feel of her huge, 
impossibly muscular female body under my trembling hands,..... 
I was back in the room in four... 
Finally, after minutes that felt like days, she emerged. 
Naked. Incredibly naked; the wonders of that female megabody 
disclosed fully.  Tan; so perfectly tan that it was hard to 
discern that the color was not hers naturally, but had come from 
hours of baking, unclothed in her secluded backyard grounds, like 
a queen undisturbed while she took her pleasure in the sun. 
Perched on spike-heeled black slippers, she stood before me in 
all her naked glory, a black satin choker adorning her neck, a 
small, sparkling blue diamond burning bright in the center, 
catching the light and accentuating the hard cool ocean of her 
arctic eyes.  Pausing as she first set foot in the room, a 
vaguely displeased look on her cruelly beautiful face as though 
she might have expected something more somehow, that she had done 
all this before so many times---why would tonight be any 
different for her? 
"You don't have to tell me how good I look," she said with 
confidence, slowly toweling the last remains of her shower from 
her skin.  "I can see it in your face.  I look incredible, don't 
I?  Behold the woman who saved your life," she purred, welcoming 
another awed survey of her astounding body as she let the neat 
bun of her hair come loose, golden silken hair falling down 
wildly from that towering crown, breaking like surf upon those 
great shoulders so wide and chiseled and rough-hewn, the glorious 
mane ending nearly at her waist, thick; silken.  Her breasts, 
almost imbued with an existence of their own, huge and completely 
defiant of gravity, as though in contempt of any law, man-made or 
natural, that would threaten to spoil this portrait of 
relentlessly muscular sexuality; the nipples, large and jutting 
outward in elemental grandeur; her midsection, hard and flat and 
seemingly created of nothing but hard muscle, a bridge to link 
the two hemispheres of her astounding framework.  She raised a 
hand to her face now, slowly brushing back the stray tresses that 
had fallen awry, her long sharp talons catching the meager light 
as her fingers moved the golden strands into place. 
There she stood.  Towering in her high heeled shoes, more than a 
foot above me.  The staggering build, shoulders that looked as 
though carved from stone, meeting the thick mass of her arms; 
promising the essence of her being; those huge perfect breasts, 
inviting, no, commanding, to be touched and suckled; her severe 
beauty, impossible to ignore; and the dark triangle of hair, 
neatly trimmed and intriguing; promising depths of pleasure and 
bliss, if only she would allow.... 
She seemed to have captured the core of female sexuality---the 
soft full breasts, hips that would shame a Playboy Playmate, and, 
despite her take-charge manner, her gestures still caught the 
small gestures that were so quintessentially female; the 
seductive tilt of her head, the sensual toss of a long golden 
tress, the way her body lines changed ever-so-slightly as she 
shifted her weight from one leg to the other... 
Staring at her, at that moment, was the first time her powerful 
allure had accomplished what it would so often do as my life with 
her continued.  All thought rushed from my mind, all ideas of an 
existence without her, before her, draining from my mind as 
though she had found some primary drainage plug deep in my being 
and had pulled it, my own will ebbing out, to be replaced only 
with Margo, her vast and incredible beauty, her architecture, 
carved from her own strength of will and limb, laid bare before 
me, consuming me. 
My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I felt it would 
burst out of my skin any moment now... 
"Like the shoes?" she asked, "Yeah, I know what you're thinking," 
she said with a smile that acknowledged her mastery of the 
situation. "With a body like mine, what does Big Margo need with 
another four inches of height, right?", she chided. "Well, you 
know what I always say? You can never have too much of a good 
thing, baby. Too much height."  
She winked as she glanced down at her big, full-nippled breasts, 
glistening with a light sweat, "Too much tit...", she teased, 
seeing the frantic look of sexual hunger mixed with amazement on 
my face, "Or too...much...muscle!", she said with emphasis, 
flexing her huge muscular body, making the big breasts dance.  
"You can never be too rich or too thin. That is what they tell 
you, right? I like the first part, but the second is bullshit 
made up by some skinny little chick, I suspect. You can never by 
too gorgeous or too big!", she purred, flexing a superhuman arm. 
"And that my dear little man, is where you come in." 
"What...what can I do?", I asked, dumbfounded by the sight of 
this giant Amazonian Muscle Goddess. 
She arched an eyebrow, a small smile pulling at the edge of her 
cruelly beautiful mouth.  
"What can you do?", she asked quietly, the words escaping quietly 
from someplace deep down in her frame. "I'll tell you what you 
can do, and what you will do, my thin adoring one.  You're gonna 
worship every ounce of hard muscle and flesh on this body.  
That's what you're gonna do! You're gonna dance and jump at my 
slightest whim", she said, raising her voice now, and flexing the 
huge left bicep.  "And you're gonna love every minute of it!" 
 
She grabbed by the forearm, pulling me with a casual strength 
along with her, as she sat down on the loveseat again.  As I 
began to sit next to her, she pushed me down, firmly, with a 
casual air, until I was kneeling on the floor.  Suddenly, a cloth 
appeared in her long-taloned hand, and she tossed it on the 
floor. 
"I see a spec of dust on my shoe.  You better see it too, because 
I want it gone right now."  I took the cloth and began rubbing 
the gleaming leather.  I saw no dust, in fact, but I felt that 
this was not a woman to argue with.  Kneeling as I was on the 
floor, I could not help watch as she slowly spread her legs to a 
right angle, her vagina, it's clitoris large and swollen, 
appearing and becoming more and more visible as her thick thighs 
opened. I breathed it's musky scent.  Some women have that 
scent; it is rare and infrequent, but when they have it, it is 
heaven; like a mysterious, sweet syrup that intoxicates and fills 
with need; with burning, pressing, urging,.... 
I rubbed the shoe absently as I stared, my eyes running over the 
hard and sun-browned flesh.  With every movement, her vast 
musculature moved with her, a hard sinewy sexuality that 
inhabited her, accentuated her every move.  I looked up to that 
hard but beautiful face, and saw her staring at me as well, as 
though surveying me, and sizing me up for what would come next. 
"You're not finding it", she said, in a tone of controlled 
annoyance.  "You had better." 
I began turning all my attention to the task, but could find not 
a mark on the glistening leather.  She was getting impatient. 
"Looks as though I'm gonna have to turn you over my knee again, 
huh, little boy? "she taunted. 
Finally, a desperate pass over the leather seemed to do the trick 
for her.  I still didn't see anything, but she was pleased 
nonetheless.   
"Found it, huh?  Lucky for you.  I was getting ready to give you 
another paddlin'."   
She stood and looked around the room as though seeing it for the 
first time... 
"Like the room?  I use it for my slaves.  Like you," she said, 
looking down at me.  She pointed to a dark corner of the room 
where the light of the candles barely reached.  
"The bed over there is where I take my slaves.  It's nice and big 
enough for Margo and her little slaves to writhe around on, but 
only if the slave has been very good and obedient to his great 
big Muscle Mistress.  Get me?" 
"Yes, ma'am." 
"Of course, I do have my own chamber.  But that's for my own use, 
and for fucking my lovers...." 
"Follow me", she said, suppressing a smile, as she walked out of 
the bedroom.   She turned over her shoulder to shoot me a 
withering glance.  I had looked about for some sort of garment to 
wear.  "You don't need any clothing.  I want you just the way you 
are--the way you're gonna be as long as you're here."  My heart 
continued to pound in my chest. 
The hallway was inky-dark, cave-like, and cool, but my eyes did 
not notice the dark.  They were focused only on her.  I watched 
that goddess stride down the corridor, hips swaying with each 
step, round buttocks moving in hypnotizing rhythm; prominent 
calves flexing as she went. That she could be so transcendentally 
female, so alluring, and yet, so immensely muscular.... Her 
scent, powerful and primal, leading me on with such potency that 
I could have followed her blindfolded.  But why would I want to 
do that?  The visual revelation of her naked body was too great 
an enticement to forgo... 
She took me down the long hall to a room that took my breath 
away.  Margo's Chambers... 
The bed was huge, nearly twelve feet long by ten feet wide.  It 
was covered in a black bedspread, and was on a high platform some 
two feet off the floor.  There was a canopy over it, of white 
linen, sheer.  The windows were heavily shaded, and there was a 
huge oak desk in the corner.   
"If this room could talk, slave, you know what it would say?  It 
wouldn't say anything, 'cause it would be too busy moaning.  Get 
my drift?" 
She wordlessly shut the door, and led me back down the hall to 
another room, and threw open a door.  She disappeared into a room 
even blacker than the hall.  I followed, and turned into the open 
doorway to see only darkness, and to hear the clicking of her 
shoes on a hardwood floor, followed by the sound of metal being 
moved.  There was silence from her; only the sound of the metal 
plates shifting slightly as they moved.  This went on for over a 
minute, while I stood in the doorway only barely conscious of my 
own state of undress, anticipating, and fearing, what the answer 
to this riddle was.... 
Suddenly, the lights came on in a burst of light so bright I had 
to turn away, my eyes only gradually becoming accustomed to the 
radiance of the surroundings. 
She stood before me, heavily-weighted barbell in hand, repeatedly 
lifting it with ease, the huge muscles of her arms swollen to 
almost incredible size, blood rushing to aid her massive limbs in 
their task.  Only a slight strain showed on her face; she shot me 
a look as though to make it clear what I was up against should I 
try to defy her.  She never lost her balance, even in those 
skyscraper heels, and kept heaving the weight in a steady curl.  
Every muscle was threatening to erupt, it seemed, as she 
continued at her task, primal power surging from every pore, 
every ounce of her ample brawn going to the task now as the reps 
continued to amass.  Thirty, forty, who knew...?  I lost count.  
Sweat began dripping off her frame, droplets running the course 
of the deep crevices of her sculpted muscle, and across her 
midsection, one or two actually disappearing into the small curls 
of her trim dark pubic patch. 
Her hair shook as she forced the weight now, getting those last 
few reps as the barbell slowly made its way up and down.  Veins, 
long prominent as she went at her task, now seemed ready to 
burst.  Her face contorted, the severe beauty of her features 
turned to an angry scowl.  Finally, when the weight seemed 
incapable of moving, when those magnificent arms, muscles peaked 
into hard superhuman size, appeared to have had their day, she 
nodded for me to approach.  I hesitated for just a moment, 
transfixed to the spot, until she growled at me. 
"Feel it", she commanded in a primal grunt, still holding the 
weights in her grasp. "Go ahead---feel it!", she said again, 
angrily. 
I felt the immense biceps, hard and unyielding under my hand.  
For the first time, I noticed the dramatic difference in our skin 
color; Margo sun-browned to a near-permanent color, her tan 
incredibly even, without even the slightest telltale tanning 
line; and me; pale from the sensible and religious use of 
sunscreen that fair-skinned people are so often urged to use. 
I had to admit, her tan looked alot better than my pasty 
whiteness, regardless of health, muscle, or lack thereof... 
I looked into her eyes, full of an undefinable mix of sex and 
brutality.  I felt myself stirring. 
She put the weight down, and stood breathing heavily from the 
exertion of her efforts.  She flexed her right arm, the biceps 
obediently jumping into a mountainous peak of female sinew. 
"See this?", she asked, nodding but not looking at the enormous 
biceps, it's size now at a level not seen outside of Elie Xyr 
graphics.  "This is the one that can make your life a dream.  Do 
as I say, be obedient to my will and my whim, and this big arm 
can take you to paradise." 
I could not help the throbbing that I was exhibiting, fully 
erect, and hungry for her in a way I had never before hungered 
for a woman.  I gazed at her in adoration unabashed, pleadingly, 
desperate for a touch from that overwhelming woman now before me; 
her body, in it's naked majesty, appearing to be like the body of 
some primeval goddess waiting to be venerated.  A drop of 
perspiration ran down the mammoth chest, and down to the tip of 
her erect nipple.  It hung there for a moment, before dropping 
down from her body to mine, landing with near-perfect aim on my 
erect member.  I could feel her warmth on even the small drop of 
her liquid, and it made me suddenly aware of how deeply erotic 
was the smell of her sweat.  I was aware and ashamed of my 
arousal, but, too, so agape at my fantasy come to flesh and blood 
and hard, dominant, womanly muscle before me, that I only stood 
in reverence and adoration, hungry for her touch and whatever 
heaven or hell it would bring... 
She grabbed my head, and pushed it to her skin, moist with sweat. 
I tasted the sweet liquid on her breast, licking it with my 
tongue. My hands went to her arms, but were met by a hasty shove. 
"Hands to yourself, slave", she said contemptuously. 
As I ran my mouth over the huge breasts, a strange mist seemed to 
come over me, some part of my mind began relaxing--or was it 
simply vanishing?  
Whatever it was, I relinquished to it's power, and I became 
almost mindless in my desire to serve her.... 
I was lost in the body of this awesomely constructed creature who 
pulsed with sex and mind-boggling female power... 
 
"Yes, yes.  I promise anything you want if you'll only..." 
She raised a finger to her lips to silence me, and now she flexed 
the other arm now, massive biceps springing into fully defined 
state now, her eyes never leaving mine. 
"And this one?  This is the one that you better look out for.  
Know why?" 
I shook my head timidly, in reverence. 
"Because, baby, this is the one that will keep you in line.  And 
if you step out of your rightful place---namely, at my spike- 
heeled feet----you're gonna make me mad.  And when big bad Margo 
gets mad, her great big muscles go to work---on your bare 
backside once again.  I can always repeat our little treatment. 
The first time was just to break you in. But next time, I'll 
really mean it.  Get me?" 
I nodded, averting my eyes. 
Margo reached under my chin, gently, and lifted my face to look 
up into hers.  She smiled, kindly, or as close to it as her harsh 
countenance would ever get.  
"Tell me that you understand, my little slave-boy.  Your big 
MuscleQueen wants to hear it." 
"I understand", was all I said, both fascinated and transfixed. 
She slowly nodded with satisfaction, and presently began walking 
slowly around me, a slight murmur emitting from her as she 
surveyed the sight I presented her.  I half-turned to see what 
she was doing behind me... 
"Don't move unless I tell you to", she said quietly. 
Presently, she came around again, pumped arms folded across her 
dominant chest. 
"You've got a cute little butt on you, small fry.  I like that.  
Behave yourself, and it can stay all pink and pretty.  If not," 
she said, menacingly, "I can turn it any variety of colors.  
Quickly.  Get me?" 
"Yes, ma'am." 
In case you're wondering---", she said casually, "---and I know 
you are---it just so happens that I am six feet seven and one 
half inches tall.  That's without these high, high heels, just to 
clear up any confusion. With those I'm pretty close to seven foot 
even.  Pretty impressive, huh?", she gloated, proudly. I nodded, 
noting that those figures meant that she was just about a foot 
taller than me in her bare feet...  
"I weigh approximately two hundred and seventy pounds.  My biceps 
measure some twenty-two inches around.  My big chest that you 
find so irresistible measures a healthy 55 inches, back to 
nipple, once around....  That's Double D, in case you're a tit 
man.", she said, grabbing the huge breasts and giving them a 
rowdy shake.  My waist is a twenty-eight inch shrine to hard 
work.  And I expect you to worship that shrine every time I want 
it.  And let's get this perfectly understood... I am more than 
capable of correcting any unsatisfactory behavior on your part 
firmly and without sympathy, and as I just said, I'll think 
nothing of turning your little backside black and blue if I feel 
you need it or have it coming.  Or", she said, shrugging the 
still-pumped shoulders, "if I simply feel like it.  And I expect 
to hear you show your appreciation for my efforts."  She looked 
at me evenly, to search for any sign of surprise on my face.  
"That's right.  If I take the time to put you in your place, I 
want to hear you say 'Thank you, ma'am'.  Understood?" 
I looked down again, in stark embarrassment. 
"Don't get coy with me, my adoring little slave", she said, 
annoyed. "I think we both know why you're here, don't we?  You're 
here because you want to be with me, one way or the other, isn't 
that right?  Because from the moment you saw me on that beach, 
you couldn't take your eyes off me.  You think I'm the biggest, 
hottest thing you've ever seen in your life, and you'll do just 
about anything to make me happy, right?  You want to worship at 
my feet, and submit to my every whim and want.  You want to watch 
me get bigger and harder and tougher in the gym, and be on my arm 
like a worshiping little plaything.  You'll rub down these 
gorgeous muscles of mine; and later, in the cover of night, 
you'll want to feel them on top of you, run your hands along them 
and hold on tight while I take you, and you surrender to me 
completely.  That's what you want. So say yes before your goddess 
gets upset." 
"Yes." 
"Yes?  Is that how you address me?" 
"Yes, my ....my Queen.  I want all that.  And more." 
She raised an eyebrow, slowly, and nodded. 
"More? Oh, good.  I can see you'll need only the briefest of 
training periods." 
"Training?" I asked.  "What sort of training, if I may ask, 
ma'am?" 
She laughed.  "My, we are inquisitive, little slave.  Why, 
muscleslave training, of course.  To see if I can use your 
services or not.  Don't worry your little head about that---I 
have a feeling you're going to work out just fine.  But how well 
you behave both in bed and on your feet---excuse me, I should 
perhaps say 'on your knees'---will decide how your slavery will 
be spent.  Pleasantly in my bed; or harshly, in punishment.  
Understand?" 
"Yes, ma'am ", I answered, suddenly confused.  I had to ask 
myself if all this was worth what might happen... 
"Good.   At least you're not stupid.  The last slave I had in 
here was so dumb he didn't now which end of him was up.  Of 
course, a few sessions on my knee cleared up that little mystery  
for him", she chuckled. 
"You're so tan, m'lady, " I intoned, using the old English term a 
servant would use in addressing the lady of the manor. 
"Indeed I am.  Every square inch of this bod is dark and big and 
strong, and hard.  Well, maybe I'm not hard everywhere", she 
teased, patting her groin hedonistically, with narrowed eyes, 
"but just about.  Let's not forget about these, either, ", she 
said, glancing down at her huge bosom and pouting.  The gesture 
had a strange look, contrasting with her tremendous size and 
musculature.  It was sexy as hell. 
"And as far as being tan, well, you know, that reminds me of 
something my daddy used to always say...." 
I couldn't help but note how strange it was to hear this 
majestic, enormously muscular and large woman use such a girlish 
term in referring to her father... 
"Daddy always said 'what's a drink without a nosh?'  You know 
what I say, my little erect slaveboy?  I always say, 'What's a 
musclebod without a hot tan to show it off, hmmmm...?", she 
purred, displaying herself in an audacious musclepose that 
stirred delight within me--her hands went behind her head, and 
she flexed her pectorals and her midsection, pumping her arms so 
as to bring them to life, dancing before my hungry eyes... 
I was losing control of my body. 
Frantically, I trotted over to this magnificent slab of 
womanhood, so overpowering in size, strength, beauty..... 
I was afraid to feel her body in my hands, to handle all that 
incredibly developed muscle and flesh between my fingers, mindful 
of the session I had already spent over her knee...  
But I was dying to touch or be touched right now.... 
"Please, m'lady", I said, my shame overcome by maddening desire,  
"please make love with me.  Right now," I urged her.  Keeping my 
hands to myself, I locked them in front of my chest, pleading, 
begging for her... 
"Horny little thing, aren't you?", she asked me coolly, looking 
me up and down, a look of dry contempt as her gaze focused on my 
genitals. 
"Only for you, ma'am.  Please, m'lady...If it pleases you...." 
Margo nodded thoughtfully.  "So? My new slave wants to go to bed 
with his big mistress and fuck, huh?"  
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 
 
                          M'Lady Muscle 
 
 
                         Chapter Three:  
 
                     Audience With A Goddess 
 
 
     She picked me up now, wordlessly, effortlessly, and carried 
me back down to the guest room in a pair of enormously-muscular 
arms.   
     My erection fairly throbbed; it was just inches from her 
face as we went down the hall, and she slowed now, locking her 
brilliant eyes on mine--all-knowing eyes had seen right through 
me from the first--and slowly lowered her head and took the head 
of my aching penis in her warm, wet mouth.  She bit down on it 
ever so slightly; the sensation somewhere between pleasure and 
pain.  She held it there and studied my face carefully, tracing a 
prominent veiny penis-ridge with her snake-like tongue, while 
tenderly chewing my urgent stalk. 
     This muscular blonde giantess seemed to be sending me a 
message even now--See what I can do if I want!--and after a long 
moment when I thought she just might do the unthinkable, she spat 
my manhood out, letting it fall away, and resumed walking with me 
in her thick arms. I held onto those magnificent shoulders all 
the way, little caring where she took me, as long as I was going 
with her... 
     Once inside the candlelit cavern that was her guest room, 
she strode to the center of the room, and lowered me to the 
floor... 
     I lay naked on my stomach on a thick black bearskin rug, and 
the Amazonian MuscleQueen stood over me, both amused and 
disgusted by my baby-boy-bareness.  
     "There's a shot for my scrapbook," the naked siren of Pumped 
Royalty sneered. "Except I don't know too many babies with their 
little asses all red from being spanked by a beautiful muscle- 
woman, do you?" she asked, the glow of the flames dancing on her 
face, like a Buff-Bodied Succubus in Hell. 
     "No, ma'am," I admitted, and my hand went to my tender skin 
still full of punishment. 
     Nodding towards the large, queen-sized bed in the corner, 
she turned back down to me, and I straightened up, to kneel below 
her, numb and half-maddened with desire at her feet.  
     Not just my heart, but my whole chest pounded with the 
intense anticipation of that body---those breasts, those legs, 
those huge muscles, the deep tan, all that female power tightly 
wrapped.... 
     A million shadows shifted and changed about me, as the lone 
window's curtains rode the coolness of an evening breeze. It 
seemed to breathe a dancing-fire life into the room, and the bank 
of tiny flames wavered, holding on tightly to their short lives. 
     I was intoxicated with excitement... 
     Her huge hard body swelled as she inhaled deeply, and she 
held the pose as her knife-sharp architecture came to life, fresh 
islands rising from a bronze sea. 
     "That's where you want to go with me, isn't it?", she 
leered, her voice low and sultry as she nodded at the bed, it's 
red satin bedspread reflecting the candlelight. 
     "Yes, my queen", I replied. 
     "What is it you want there?", she asked deliberately, as 
though the answer were some deep enigma. To distract me even 
further, she proceeded to lightly flex for herself in the nearby 
mirror, as though more interested in her own beauty than anything 
I might have to tell her. She brushed her hair crudely with her 
hands, and shook the unfurled blonde splendor about, a banner 
worth fighting for. I noted that it had taken on a slightly- 
reddish tint in the firelight... 
     She extended a spike-heeled afterthought to me, now flexing 
it's own sweeping musculature, offering it to me for worship as 
she fussed with her chiseled and hennaed perfection in the 
mirror. 
     "Only you, ma'am," I said worshipfully, daring to kiss her 
instep now, tasting leather. My answer almost came as a surprise 
to her, involved as she was with her own private worship... 
     "You want to pay homage to me, don't you?" she asked with 
haughty satisfaction, stifling a yawn and inspecting her 
manicure.       
     "...You want to be mine," she predicted, inspecting her 
calves for new growth... 
     I nodded with rapid eagerness, trying to garner her complete 
attention, not knowing how... 
     I looked up to her. From where I sat she looked a hundred 
feet tall...   
     She finally turned her full-and-undivided interest to the 
naked man on her carpet, whose erection was throbbing pink, the 
helmet-head shining, dripping lust in the candlelight. 
     And so she folded the vast slabs of chiseled muscle that 
were her arms and shook her head sadly. 
     "Wanting isn't enough, slave.  I want you to tell me all 
about it.  Right now.  In your own worshipful little words. I 
want you to tell me how much you want to be my sextoy, how bad 
you want to please me, how bad you want to be made to FUCK for 
your big-muscled Margo.  You want to exist only for my pleasure," 
she proclaimed, as though there was an audience closely listening 
behind the walls... 
     "Tell me all about it right now, and don't stop until I tell 
you to.  And don't be afraid to be demonstrative," she added. 
     "God knows, I need a little creative muscleworship from my 
slaves," she huffed, "just to get in the mood to fuck little 
twits like you. Go on, talk!" she urged, raising her voice.  
     "I want to hear it.  No talk, no fuck." 
     I found myself tongue-tied now, searching for words.  
     Perhaps this awkwardness was something she was accustomed 
to, because she now began flexing her immense musculature, every 
feminine curve accentuated by pounds and pounds of hard 
gladiatrix muscle. Her breasts! Perfect round basketballs of 
softness, nipples at-the-ready, on double-red-alert, ready for 
suckling by a worshipful mouth... 
     It worked. 
     "May I touch you?" I asked. 
     She smiled, the dazzling whiteness of her teeth gleaming in 
the dark.  "You want to touch these great, big, tough muscles?", 
she encouraged in teasing tones.   
     "You want to coo and whisper and sigh, while I stand here, 
big and hard, mean and tough, and flex them under your hands?" 
     "Yes, ma'am.  Please." 
     And so she began flexing, the massive mountains springing 
into a life almost of their own.  Peaks appeared here, receded 
there, then re-appeared; veins seemed to pop, muscle pulsed and 
throbbed, her breasts jutting, nipples hard, and through it all, 
she stood waiting, as my hands rode her brutal body like two 
little bumper cars riding the rocky road of a gigantic female 
bodybuilder. I inserted my fingers in the noticeable vertical 
depression between the two hemispheres of her chest, and felt the 
moisture that had collected within it, during her workout 
demonstration down the hall. 
     I brought my dampened fingers to my mouth, and under her 
approving eye, licked the saltiness clean... 
     She nodded ever-so-slightly, as though she didn't want me to 
see, like a LadySergeant approving of the well-drilled actions of 
a new recruit... 
     It was time. 
     Time for MuscleTalk... 
     My gaze went from perfectly huge breast to hard carved 
deltoid, to rock-hard abdomen, and on...   
     I didn't know where to start, but I knew I had better start 
somewhere.... 
     She stood there, incredibly tall, incredibly big, beautiful 
beyond words, her hands on her hips again in an authoritarian 
pose.  She did not smile, but I could see the enjoyment of this 
moment in the gleam in her eyes.  I ran my hands eagerly up to 
her shoulders, feeling the rugged sculpted muscle, cut as sharply 
as though carved, as a glacier will shape a rock over a 
millennia. 
     "Gosh, ma'am, you're so huge...so sexy," I whispered 
breathlessly, craning my neck to look up into those intense eyes, 
blue and hard and waiting for more.  My hands ran down to the 
stony intolerance that was her midsection, my fingers tracing the 
rungs of abdominal now, relishing the hardness of her body, it's 
size and unforgiving, elemental essence.   
     I was searching for words. 
     "I want to be yours for tonight," I choked softly, finally, 
saying words that seemed to be coming not from my own 
consciousness but from someplace else, as though they were being 
channeled into my mind from someplace else, and sent through my 
vocal cords to my mouth, where they gushed to Margo's waiting 
ears.  I was staring hard at her nonexistent waist, keeping my 
eyes averted while I disclosed my most private, darkest needs to 
my goddess.   
     "Please own me and make me your own.  I want to be under 
your big muscles like a little slave. I want to know your rule, 
your...your discipline. Make me understand what it means to know 
the swift crack of your powerful hand," I beseeched her, the 
memory of a fresh overturning on her knee still burning in my 
mind, among other places... 
     And I reached for one hand, holding it between my own, 
kissing it, feeling the sharp nails dig into my wrist.   
     "Thank you for...before," I said, hoping she knew what I 
meant. 
     "What was that?" she asked.  "Be specific." 
     Looking up to her again, the hard beauty of her face showed 
the telltale traces of a smile. 
     "The spanking," I admitted, half-swallowing my words as I 
spoke them.  My heart beat hard and fast and I could feel it in 
my throat now; for better or worse, I was hers... 
     "You're quite welcome," she said, pleased.  "I'm glad you've 
realized why you got it." 
     I nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, ma'am, I do," I chirped. "I 
promise to try to please you, and if I don't, you must punish 
me," I urged, nodding; my voice trailed off as shaking hands 
reached up to her huge breasts, the generous pillows of flesh 
soft and welcoming over hard pectorals. 
     I thought I could feel her heartbeat throbbing slow and 
steady in her chest, unperturbed... 
     "I will live for your amusement," I promised.  "To be on 
your big arm, by your side, will be all I live for.  I'll lick 
the sweat that runs off your big body while you work out, and 
massage your great big powerful physique when you're finished.  
I'll bathe you and dress you, and if I've been very good, maybe 
you'll even let me......" 
     "Let you what?" she asked, seemingly very interested in the 
slavish devotions of her new little beau. 
     "Let me...let me...", I uttered breathlessly, overwhelmed as 
she flexed the huge brown bicep my hands were now fondling 
demurely, awe rising up in me, encouraging me as I felt the cool 
rockhard flesh. 
     "Golly, ma'am," my voice wavered, "it's just that you're so 
beautiful. I'd be honored if you'd only let me...let me 
masturbate at your feet," I whispered, turning my burning eyes 
away, in shame. 
     "Sure, that can be arranged sometime," the Bodybuilding 
Bathsheba grinned, pleased. "As long as you promise to clean up 
your mess right after," she conditioned, still holding the big 
left muscle-slab out for me to examine, my eager hands trying but 
failing to go around the vast upper arm.   
     "I might get upset if you get any on my shoes, and you'll 
have to lick it all off," she winked... 
     Whatever she said was fine with me... 
     "I will, I promise.  Oh, ma'am," I said, in a voice I still 
did not recognize, "I want to be your helpless and weak little 
slave, adoring you in all your beauty, and power, and big 
gorgeous muscles!" I exclaimed; and my mouth went uncertainly to 
a large erect nipple, sucking, kissing the areolae, trying to 
pull some gentleness from her heaving breast.  
     Now, I moved down that unforgiving body, the hard plain of 
her stomach, the perfectly curved hips, the large shapely pillars 
of her legs and prominent calves, and down again to her feet, 
where I repeated my first kiss. 
     She reached down for me now, taking my arms and pulling me 
up to her.  She ran a hand through my hair affectionately.   
I looked up to the harsh eyes, so far above mine.   
     "You've done well for a first time," she said.  "And to 
reward my good little slavie, I'm going to take you to my bed 
now.  Okay?" 
     They were like words from heaven itself, a muscle-packed 
LadyAngel gracing husky tones from the hereafter... 
     "Oh, yes, please, ma'am!" I exclaimed, unconsciously 
bouncing with eagerness in the way a small child will do when 
promised a desired treat, hands together in front of me, resting 
on her chest. 
     She picked me up in her arms again, lifting me easily, 
cradling me like a timid child.  Her mouth came down hard on 
mine, and I yielded to it, her tongue pushing and invading, 
dominating the kiss.  A purr of pleasure emitted from me, and I 
reached up to that unmerciful body, and held on tight to a pair 
of continental-shelf shoulders, my erection throbbing.  My body 
was aquiver with desire, desperate for her mighty touch, anxious 
to offer myself to her whim, impatient to feel her powerful body 
overwhelm me, and I swooned in her immense arms. 
     She caught me as my knees gave out and turned to jelly; and 
walked over to the bed, holding me in her arms. Through half- 
lidded eyes, my finger traced that hard vertical muscular cut of 
her chest, playfully, like a teen's first crush coming to 
reality, but gender-switched for the 1990's...  
     I looked up to her dreamily as she lowered me down to the 
satin. And stood over me... 
     If I was expecting a soft seduction, how wrong I was!   
     "Little man," she announced, "when you talk about this--and 
you will... 
     "Gosh, ma'am, I'll be kind, I promise," in my best Tea-And- 
Sympathy voice, as I reassured her. 
     Her features did a one-eighty, a shocked flip... 
     "No, you little moron. What I was going to say was `when you 
talk about this, make sure you tell them how hard you got 
spanked." 
     "Yes, ma'am," I acquiesced. 
     "Okay, baby," she said, suddenly, her voice loud and harsh, 
as she spread her arms wide to coax the muscles into a hot tango 
over me... 
      "You're gonna get FUCKED!" she roared, and the candles 
flickered with the ferocity of her statement. 
     She stood motionless for a moment, breathing heavily, and 
presently it began...   
     Every muscle in her body began to flex, to expand, molten 
magma seeming to flow under her skin, raising up and forming 
mountains of sweaty defiance everywhere.   
     In moments, she stood seemingly transformed to superhuman 
size again, a shrine of power and desire, naked and brown from 
the approving smiles of the sun.  
     For a moment, I thought of my tiny euro-car, mothballed back 
in my garage; this woman was bigger than my tin-and-strings 
transporter, and many many times more powerful... 
     And far more beautiful... 
     I thought my heart would burst as she joined on the bed, the 
candlelight reflecting the million-and-one facets of her sculpted 
mass; her vast size taking up much of the airspace above me.  
     She moved with the feline grace befitting a beauty queen, 
rather than a muscle queen.   
     Though, in fact, she was both..... 
     We lay on our sides, facing each other, a giantess and her 
lilliputian manservant; and presently her hand went to my chin, 
gently. She gently pulled in close and landed a soft kiss on my 
lips.  Just as softly, she then put her hand on my chest and 
pushed me down on my back...   
     She climbed atop me, pushing my legs together and straddling 
them, half-sitting, half-laying, upon my thighs. She ran her 
hands roughly over my chest, and I remembered feeling shame that 
my own slight musculature could not meet her touch with more 
firmness, as her's could mine... 
     "Soft," she said, neither pleased nor annoyed, locking me 
with tractor-beam eyes.  "The way I want you.  Soft and small and 
underneath me.  Yes?"  
     She ran a long fingernail down my slender chest, and blazed 
an extended trail down to the forests of my groin, where her 
hand, talons extended, encircled my scrotum, the nails exerting 
slight but sharp pressure upon it. 
     "Yes, ma'am. Under you always." 
     I looked up at the enormous woman straddling me, the immense 
volume of her body seeming to nearly match the width of the bed 
we lay upon. And I saw beside me on the wall a gigantic shadow 
thrown larger-than-life; Margo's spectral sister, even larger 
than her flesh-and-blood companion, her outline matching her 
muscle-packed contours but inflated to the stuff of dreams. 
     She shook her mane of gorgeous hair now, the ends tumbling  
down to my thighs, tickling them. 
     Casually in control, a Masterful Mistress of the Situation. 
     She teased my testicles with playful little scratches, my 
erection throbbing and threatening to pre-maturely erupt from the 
delirium of being enslaved under all that erotic and dominant 
female beauty and power... 
     My hands reached up and clasped behind the thick neck, the 
trapezius a handle for my fingers to close around.  I was holding 
onto my musclemistress passively, helplessly; and she leaned 
down, her breasts coming to rest upon my chest. The erect nipples 
pressed firmly into my subjugated flesh.  Her mouth came down on 
me again, and I kissed her with the eagerness of a honeymoon 
bride, yielding to her superiority, anxious to be kissed hard, 
taken hard, fucked hard... 
     Her musky perfume filled my senses. Or was it perfume, or 
merely the heady scent of Tit and Muscle Dominance over a Small 
and Lonely Man? 
      Now, one of the huge nipples crawled northwards and 
presented itself at my mouth, and I took it and sucked, closing 
my eyes, tasting the sweet flesh with my tongue. A veil of her 
golden hair fell over us both, covering my face, rendering us 
cloaked in a curtain of her tresses. 
     "How's that, slave?" she whispered to me, not unkindly.  
     "Ready to be taken by all this muscle?" 
     I let the nipple slip out of my mouth, and rubbed my hands 
earnestly around the wide shoulders protruding like invulnerable 
boulders through the forest of her hair, savoring once again the 
power of this irresistible woman. 
     "Oh yes, ma'am, please," I begged desperately. 
     She pushed my arms away from her, placing them at my side, 
and locked her mighty legs against them, pinning them uselessly 
against my body. 
     She held my erect penis straight upwards with a strong hand, 
and hovered her shapely hips above them for a brief moment that 
seemed to last forever. Looking right into my eyes with a fierce 
intensity, she started rubbing the head of my lip-stick-stained 
penis, oozing with pre-ejaculate against her very large and pink 
clitoris.  It seemed to arouse her; up to now she had maintained 
a cool detachment about the whole proceeding, as though this was  
just another play-act fire-drilling of the loins...   
     I was about to be fucked by candlelight, and I looked up to 
see the flickering flames reflect in the unrelenting eyes of an 
Amazonian Dominatrix, her eyes glowing like diamonds afire, 
burning clearly through a falling forrest of blonde that half- 
covered her face. 
     A moment later, she slid the rod inside her.  I had always 
thought of myself as reasonably well-hung, but as I entered that 
vast body, I suddenly felt particularly under-endowed, as my 
penis disappeared quickly, without struggle... 
     First, the wet purplish helmet entered the channel, guided 
by a well-practiced hand, to begin it's muscular indoctrination 
in a warm dark sea. For this was no kiddie-pool-pussy; this was a 
roaring, white-capped tsunami, sweeping up six inches of meat 
just as those furious waves uproot and transform ancient oaks to 
drifting tossed waterlogs. 
     She handled my shaft with ease, and I felt it slide up 
deeper into her body, held tight in place by the muscles of her 
warm, wet vagina. Even here, her strength prevailed---her 
internal muscularity almost matched the external, visible muscle 
on her flesh.  She controlled the overmatched shaft completely, 
not allowing me to thrust at all... 
     Pumping her hips slowly up and down, the steadiness of a 
well-oiled machine that chose the tune, played the music, and 
now, would make me dance... 
     There was very little change of expression on her face---she 
never let her terrible eyes wander from mine, as though waiting 
expectantly for my impending release.  Even now, as she jiggled 
her hips in a sex-queen thrust, her rocky abs locking as she 
spasmed her pubic muscles around my penis, I could not help but 
stare in adoration as the thick musculature responded to her 
movements, repeated flexing of awesome physique continuing every 
time she moved. 
     Like a two-hundred-and-seventy-pound plus Amazon Elevator 
Girl, she rose and fell, rose and fell, turning my penis into a 
magic-show puppet that vanished and reappeared on her muscular 
cue, a chugging little slurp the only dialogue it could utter. 
     Her hair billowed with the sex-made breezes she created, 
puffing up like a blonde cloud, then falling like a flaxen 
parachute, tumbling down her broad back, then shooting skywards 
yet again... 
     I felt fire rise in my stomach, and a steady brewing in my 
scrotum that wanted nothing more than to gush deeply within her. 
     Now she froze as though in a time-lock, holding only the 
head of my penis inside her, clamping upon it tightly with her 
amazingly strong vaginal muscles, not letting it go... 
     They matched the apparent strength of all the other carved 
and thick musculature; in control.  I saw the hard abdomen expand 
and contract with her breath once again... 
     I had to journey back, up into the hell of that sweet dark 
heaven. I attempted to thrust up and into her with all my might, 
and perhaps achieve a rhythm of my own design. 
     My paroled arms held on to her forearms--the cool smooth 
skin; veined and rigid--I tried to use it for leverage.  I lifted 
my hips off the bed, pumping them so hard I began to sweat, to 
lose my breath, gasping as though in a dead sprint. But my penis 
had met an impenetrable barrier, and would respond to my attempts 
at plundering this pussy by bending neatly and painfully in half, 
it's dreams laughed at, turned away, it's shortcomings 
apparent... 
     Margo barely registered my efforts even now, not moving, 
barely blinking, no trace of any awareness of my actions except 
for the member attempting, and failing, to ravage her at her 
loins.  She had only a somewhat bored expression on her face, as 
though she were waiting impatiently for someone to finish shining 
the spiky-heeled shoes she was still wearing. 
     She paused for a deep breath, her massive shoulders heaving 
like two boulders fallen loose from their mountainside haven. 
     "Okay, that's enough, slaveboy," she sighed, casually, as 
though deciding a treat was now over.  Her vagina dilated now, 
like a hungry mouth; and she sat down on my penis. I slid in, and 
she quickly locked around my overmatched rod with another 
tractor-beam; one made of sweet pink pussymuscle... 
     And held it completely inside her, swallowing it to the 
shaft. She straightened up, and I went with her. 
     I had no choice. I was suspended within her, frozen again, 
not touching the mattress that was now several inches beneath my 
rear, my arms straining to hold onto her shoulders.  She seemed 
to have petrified, statue-like; like a mythological creature in 
an old story. 
     I was hanging from her body, suspended by weakening hands 
and six inches of boneless flesh. Not a passionate collision of 
two ardent bodies now, but a demonstration run by this mega- 
muscled madame, to show a small man his inadequacies. 
     Like some x-rated Hitchcockian hero, I hung on, several 
inches off the mattress, swaying in the slight airspace between 
an overwhelmed man and the satin seas below. 
     "I'm your big strong heartthrob, ain't I slave?", she said, 
finally, and it was only then, as she spoke, that I could tell 
that she was breathing at all.  I nodded desperately, and I had a 
frightening flash of another Manassas Massacre; but this time 
there'd be no need for an emasculating knife; the clenching fist 
of a well-practiced pussy could do the job, and snap off my 
manhood and have it for lunch. 
     I knew that any woman could be Lorena Bobbit; all she needed 
was a class in pubo-clenching... 
     I was getting desperate; my arms were not strong...     
     "I'm gonna take real good care of you if you're a good 
little slaveboy.  You've been waiting for me for a long time, 
huh?" 
     I nodded, ecstacy overtaking fear. 
     "Good.  Big Margo's here now.  For you to serve and worship 
and obey.  Her great big arms are gonna keep you safe and 
obedient as long as you're good." 
     "Yes, ma'am," was all I could say.  Supportive hands reached 
for my buttocks, and she relaxed the tight grip in which her 
vagina had held me. I descended to the mattress, letting me 
almost slip out of her for just a moment; only the swollen head 
of my penis remained a captive within as she journeyed down with 
me. 
     But my jailer had decided it was time for a slave to find 
his release; and so she attacked, thrusting those magnificent 
hips down upon me quickly, overwhelming my loins in the first of 
an almost vicious series of powerful thrusts.   
     I tried to meet them, but she moved with a speed that only 
such strength can provide; and semen boiled up, demanding 
freedom... 
     "Give it up to me, you fucking weakling," she ordered, 
spitting her hatred for me as she pounded her hips upon mine, as 
though she had grown very impatient with this little guy she'd 
swept off his feet on a hot beach in early summer. 
    "I better feel your cum flyin' out of your little balls or  
I'm gonna go in there and take it out, you little worm," she  
threatened, her voice punctuated by the stabbing thrusts... 
    "I'll peel your scrotum like a pair of grapes and use your  
semen to polish my shoes. Now moan, groan, 'n cum," she ordered. 
    "I haven't got all fucking night, you know..." 
     Gasping, desperate to please, I grabbed a hold of her 
bowling-ball biceps, and used them as hand-holds, squeezing the 
most visible symbol of her dominance. The muscles were intolerant 
mountains, uncaring valleys, hot with pump and pounding with her 
heat. 
     I released inside her within seconds, almost as much from 
the thought of her fresh promises as the physical sensation of 
her vise-like pussy. I began moaning loudly the name of my Queen 
as I expelled my semen, offering it to the goddess with 
adoration. 
     "MArgo, Margo, margo..." I groaned, and I did not see my 
shadowy twin, created by candlelight, silently writhe with me on 
the dark wall... 
     I spasmed my hips with epileptic ardor; she showed no more 
passion on her face than she might if she was ordering lunch. 
     There had never once been a change of expression on her 
face, and I didn't know what, if anything, she had felt through 
this encounter; one that left me limp and drained of all strength 
and clarity of thought seemed to have affected her not at all. 
     I went limp, my manhood chewed up and spat out by a superior 
specimen. 
     She began slowly sliding up my torso, bringing her vagina, 
soaked with our fluids and heavy with the intoxicating scent that 
seemed to come from her naturally, up to my face; leaving a wet 
trail of the fluid behind her in her wake, in a steady line on my 
skin.  My arms were imprisoned again, locked at my sides; held 
passively in place by Margo's steel thighs... 
     I saw her abdominal muscles flex for a moment, as she 
commanded them to some task I did not understand.  Finally, 
chiseled stomach heaving, she placed her sex flush on my mouth, 
burying my face in her wet musky loins.   
     I sucked at the swollen, molten orifice, tasting all I 
could, all that she would offer her slave.  A muscular spasm ran 
through her midsection, jerking her body ever so slightly and I 
now tasted a steady stream of my own thick white fluid as she 
expelled it from her body now, with a force that equalled and 
probably surpassed my own ejaculation. It shot into my mouth, and 
splattered across my face.   
     I tasted her own juices as well, combining to form a liquid 
that was proof of our encounter, a fluid of mistress and slave; 
proof of my encounter with this muscular dominant goddess. 
     The word `flush' came to mind again, for that was what she 
had just done... 
     The salty potion ran down my chin, but I could do nothing, 
my arms still held helpless at my sides.  It was becoming hard to 
breathe... 
     She backed off, sliding down to sit at rest gently on my 
midsection again.   
     There was a casual look of haughty triumph on her face. 
     "You look pretty silly," she decreed, running a finger along 
my cheek to catch a semen-stream on a long painted razor-nail.  
     "But what the hell, it was worth it, wasn't it?", she said 
sighing, teasingly, as she slid the long claw into my mouth. 
     "Yes, ma'am.", I gurgled sheepishly. 
     Still, through it all, I could not take my eyes off her 
body, that magnificent collection of muscle and breast, hair and 
perfect teeth, long sharp nails, her wicked beauty... 
     "You better swallow what you have in there," she said, 
pointing to my mouth.   
     I did, ashamed at being forced to perform the task, but 
feeling powerless, my surrender complete, my will made her own. 
     I gulped my own subservience, and brought a hard smile to 
her cruel face of a woman three times my size; a sexy she-bully 
who'd tackled me and taken my fruit-of-the-loom lunchbag on a 
schoolyard-beach. 
     As I lay there, I felt a strange cloud descend upon me, as 
though she had taken away a part of my memory with this last act, 
one that seemed, from the casual and practiced way in which she 
performed it, to be part and parcel of being with her.  My vision 
became blurry for just a moment, a strange warmth running through 
my bloodstream.  At the time I thought that it was a mere side 
effect of the excitement, of the thrill of being with this 
incredibly Amazonian woman... 
     A Steroid-Conanette, if you will. 
     A Big-Muscled Barbarianette in a String-Bikini... 
     She rolled off a captured prize full of her spank and sex- 
stains, plunder from a day of sun and sand. 
     She took a place next to me, her ballerina-bulk sinking into 
the mattress, coming to rest and dwarfing my own body.   
     I turned to face her, only to receive a slap on a rump still 
slightly sore from my spanking. 
     "Let's get something straight, my little wimp. Do not 
address me by my given name under any circumstances. I already 
told you, it's `ma'am' or it's muscle across your backside, 
understand me?" 
     But there was forgiveness in her eyes, a venial sin of 
transgression she'd let slide, just this once, on our first night 
together... 
     "Go clean your face.  Then get back here as fast as your 
little legs will carry you, my slave." 
 
     As I washed, I can recall looking in the mirror and just for 
a second, looking in surprise at the face that looked back.  It 
was as if my identity had drifted for a moment, the way a name or 
a fact can sometimes get stuck in your memory somewhere and 
refuse to reveal itself, only to reappear a moment later, 
seemingly of its own accord... 
     I ignored this, anxious to get back to her as she lay 
waiting, proudly naked, the pride that comes with perfection 
emanating from her, reaching me even here.... 
     A minute later, I re-entered the room.   
     One of the powerfully irresistible qualities about Margo was 
her ability to strike a pose that accentuated what made her so 
unique, so astounding to behold.  So it was now... 
     She lay bathed in candlelight, the powerfully large and 
muscle-packed arms behind her head nearly camouflaged by the 
casually-strewn blonde ocean pooled on the surrounding pillows. 
     But some independent tresses had escaped the round-up, and 
fell free, entwining her abundant breasts; and they continued to 
unspool down her chiseled torso, to snake their way down, and 
find rest upon the stark contrast of her sun-browned belly... 
     Her nearly seven foot frame stretched out casually.  Her 
abdominal muscles were flexed, their sharply defined outlines 
standing out in hard even ridges, throwing small shadows in the 
candlelight.  Her wide lats spread to give her the appearance of 
encompassing the entire bed, and proud breasts stood at attention 
on her chest, held there by the flexed muscle.   
     Her legs were spread somewhat; the prominent clitoris was 
erect, the vaginal lips slightly swollen.  She still wore the 
spike-heeled shoes. 
     I stood there, reverently agape. 
     "I know," she said.  "A sight to be worshipped, huh?  Hubba- 
hubba, a great big musclegirl," she sighed, mockingly, flexing 
the powerful pectorals, making the big breasts dance about her 
chest as though an electric pathway had been opened and closed. 
     "Yes, ma'am.  Hubba-hubba," I said, earnestly, devotedly. 
     Fairly running to the edge of the bed, I knelt at it's edge. 
 
     I leaned down to the big throbbing slab-of-an-arm that she 
nonchalantly had hung over the edge, letting twenty pounds of 
muscle dangle invitingly, knowing I would head straight for it as 
a starving beggar heads for a banquet table.       
     I kissed the hot slab of veiny sinew that made up her 
forearm, and ran my mouth reverently up across hard flesh to the 
hard bicep, to the tricep, thick and prominent, kissing the huge 
sculpted flesh sluttishly, slavishly, unashamed of the fever she 
had infected me with.   
     I looked to my mistress, hoping for approval from a woman I 
would never have been so bold to dream I could be with...   
     She smiled, and pointed to a place next to her on the bed.  
     I leapt in over her, with the playful eagerness of a small 
child allowed into it's parents' bed on a Sunday morning. 
     She began to gather the heavy curtain of hair that flowed so 
freely about her; and slowly pulled the mane, red-gold in the 
candlelight, into a haughty bun, pinning it neatly back atop her 
head. Her features were accentuated by this arrangement, her 
cheekbones a mile-high, cliffs of strong bone and solid attitude 
highlighting her aquiline beauty.  
     And so she had retired her Amazonian mane, it's work--part 
of the almost-hypnotic aura she used to capture men's mind's-- 
through for the evening... 
     How I wanted to kiss those cruel lips, and wage a quick- 
surrender battle with her light pink tongue... 
     She lay regally on her back, eyes closed, and I snuggled 
close to her, my head tentatively coming to rest on her shoulder. 
 
     Her powerful tree-trunk-arm encircled me, the large hand 
encompassing my thin arm easily.   
     There was something I had to ask her. 
     "Mistress," I cooed shyly, my hands drawing light timid 
circles on her stomach, "did I please you?", I asked timidly, my 
eyes averted to the mighty hills of her lush breasts that sloped 
to the cruel and unforgiving plain of her rocky abs... 
     "You were satisfactory, nothing more," was all she offered. 
     Still, I had to know.... 
     "Madam, what I mean is....that is...." 
     "Listen, slave, you're not here to ask questions. Or to make 
me cum. You're here to amuse and worship me. Nothing more," she 
said, off-handedly, irritated. 
     "But as long as you ask, let me set you straight," she 
added, rising to one elbow and looking me in the eye.   
     "That wasn't anything near a sex act for me.  I was 
rewarding you for being so reverential to me.  Nothing else. A 
good little slave got his reward.  Period.  God," she moaned, 
shaking her head, as she slid back down to the bedding.   
     She now raised the pitch of her voice in a mocking tone, 
addressing the ceiling:   
     "Oh, great big Margo, was it good for you, too..?"   
     She started to chuckle, and reached around to swat my behind 
again, half-angry, half-amused, all-woman... 
     "I'm sorry I did not bring you more pleasure, ma'am.  It's 
just that you deserve it..." 
     She sprung up on her elbows now, ejecting herself off the 
mattress and right into my face... 
     Bursting out laughing loudly, her make-shift hairdo shook; 
she seemed to be amused at the train of thought I was trying to 
verbalize to her... 
     "Listen, you little asshole," she summarized when her 
chuckles had ebbed away, and her stern features returned to their 
normal look of vague displeasure by candlelight... 
     "I know what I deserve.  And when I want to fuck a real man, 
and get off a few real good orgasms, I do it. But first off, he's 
got to be a helluva lot bigger than you. I need muscle. And a 
cock that commands my attention," she spat, her breath a torrid 
hurricane in my face...   
     "If you're so worried about my sex life, I'll have you 
attend me the next time I get fucked.  Yeah," she nodded to 
herself. "that might be on the agenda real soon...." 
     She lay back down, a displeased gaze refusing to release me. 
     "I'm sorry, ma'am." 
     "As someone who had your thimbledick inside her a minute 
ago, I can believe that. You really are sorry. But I'm gonna keep 
you anyway." 
     She pulled me down, to fall hard upon her rocky 
voluptuousness. Her pythonesque arm wrapped around me, and it was 
a pose of pure role-reversal again, as my head rested on her 
Olympic shoulder, contentedly planting small kisses on her 
soccer-ball breasts... 
     A very possessive hand ran down my body, and she pinched my 
office-desk flab, grumbling in disgust. Then down, further; her 
fingers started playing with my pubic hair, twirling it with her 
fingers as I lay in her arms like a small child... 
     "This will all have to come off tomorrow, you know..." 
     "Pardon me, ma'am?" I inquired, as I traced an arterial 
highway that fed her biceps. 
     "Your pubes, stupid.  And all the rest of your body hair.  
It's coming off tomorrow night.  I'll see to it myself.  You see, 
there's a few things all my slaves must be:  Worshipful.  Vaguely 
cute in a little-guy way. And hairless as a newborn." 
     My head rocketed up from it's deltoid pillow, shock 
overcoming chastened timidity... 
     A set of wide eyes met mine, waiting for some objection, and 
a chance to punish me anew... 
     "Yes, ma'am," was all I said, meekly accepting the 
pronouncement, lowering my head in subservience to cuddle upon 
it's stony-hard cushion. 
     "Get your things tomorrow morning. Don't bother bringing any 
clothes.  You're not going to be wearing them around here," I 
heard her say... 
     "You're going to be living here---for the time being, at 
least.  Make arrangements to take some time away from your job.  
I'm loaded, and I want you around full-time." 
     Before this, a pronouncement like that, even from so 
incredible a creature as this throbbing monster-woman I now lay 
with, would have brought scorn, and a ready refusal from me, at 
once.  But she had done something to me..... 
     What was it? 
     Had she taken something away from my mind?   
     Some part of my identity, somehow? 
     Or had she given me something better than I had ever known. 
     For she was no timid schoolmarm to be coaxed and pleaded 
with, no aloof and disinterested pseudo-sophisticate to be wined 
and dined, no, not Margo... 
     A voice that was obedient, and wanted more of her, spoke for 
me and through me... 
     "Yes, ma'am," I said in meek reply to her demands of total 
surrender. 
     "Wonder how I got so rich?", she asked, proudly, after a 
while. 
     I turned my head up to look at her curiously. 
     "How I got all my money, you little asshole.  Look, I sure 
as hell didn't get it posing for Vogue, you know." 
     I smiled at her joke. 
     "I got my money from a rich old guy who served me faithfully 
for four years.  When he died, he left it all to me.  Said in his 
will that I was what made his life worthwhile.  How's that for a 
recommendation, eh, my little mouse?", she asked, raising her 
head to offer me a gentle leer, cocksure of her power over me. 
     "Eleven million bucks," she said to herself, and as though 
still surprised by it all, she dropped her head back down to the 
pillow, to count her million in her mind... 
     "Ma'am?", I whispered quietly, my head sliding down on her 
chest, running my hand lightly under the red silk covering, 
turning south over washboard abs that rose and fell gently with 
her every hot breath, bringing my hand along for the ride; and 
finally I dared to venture further, to hold my breath and pass a 
hand over her molten pubes, cautiously. 
     "You may continue that action, slave.  And use a little 
pressure, I like to feel something when I am touched."   
     I increased the force of my hand on so much hard flesh, it's 
soft treasure between it all, like a secret Achilles Heel she 
revealed only on her own whim.  And yet, if it were an Achilles 
Heel, some point of weakness or vulnerability on her body, I had 
certainly proven to be incapable of taking advantage of it 
tonight.  
     My fingers played with the tight vaginal lips, only the 
slightest traces of intercourse on them.  She showed no sign of 
stimulation from my tender manipulations of her mound... 
     I had forgotten the question, until she prodded me. 
     "Yes? What is it, my little slave?" 
     "Ma'am..." I asked, demurely, as I played with the soft 
flesh beneath my hand, vaginal fluids starting to flow... 
      "...you know I owe you my life for saving me today from the 
water, but how did you come to be so near to me in the surf?  I 
was far away from the crowd, after all.  And yet, there you were, 
to rescue me." 
     "Like a Big White Damsel on Her Steed set out to rescue the 
little knight, huh?", she joked, and she wriggled her hips to 
manipulate my finger-probe. My digit was swallowed up with an 
almost audible suction, sinking in the hot flesh clear to the 
knuckle, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to withdraw it....   
     She thought about my query for a moment of so before 
answering. Reaching down for my hand, retreiving my trapped  
fingers out of her vise-like pussy-trap, she cupped my chin  
again, and pulled me close up to her hard beauty, gone somewhat  
languid in the afterglow of our lovemaking. 
     A derisive smile of low-key triumph, sharp little white 
teeth sinister in the low light, set off brilliantly by her all- 
over mahogany-hued skin, dazzling... 
     "I followed you, you little moron.  I knew you wanted me, 
and I knew you wouldn't know how to go about approaching someone 
as big and powerful and beautiful as me.  So I gave you a break, 
and followed you.  I watched you nearly drown yourself, too, 
before I decided you were worth saving.  There was something cute 
in the way you ran along that beach.  By the way--I wanted to ask 
YOU something.  What the hell were you running from, anyway?  You 
looked as if you'd seen a ghost, or maybe you saw another great 
big musclegirl and she got made at your ogling and hanging 
around?" 
     I was too embarrassed to admit what the reason had been for 
my flight, and I hesitated, somehow worried that this strangely 
omnipotent woman would know the truth, and I might be punished, 
both for my lie and my untoward glances at another woman.   
     Or women.   
     Or girls... 
     Finally, swallowing hard as I lay in the arms of this vast 
and powerful woman-creature, pulsing with sex and authority over 
me, I took the risk. I looked into her unwavering arctic eyes and 
lied. 
     "I was being chased by a dog," I said. And I expounded, 
telling her that I had kept running, afraid to slow down and look 
behind me, until I was far away from the canine threat. 
     It seemed to both amuse and satisfy her, and presently, she 
put an end to all talk with a brisk order of silence. 
     Giddy with a strange ecstacy that comes from being conquered 
by something so badly wished for, I began to playfully explore 
the huge body, climbing aboard that hard voluptuous plateau of 
womanhood that had tamed me, and stirred a need in me I had long 
felt unfulfilled.  My pale skin contrasted deeply with her dark- 
hued body, my thinness against her vast wide frame, thick and 
massive, corrupting my soul with it's wicked perfection.   
     I felt strangely free now, and I rubbed her wide, impossibly 
developed shoulders, awed breath slowly escaping me as I did, 
envying and astonished by the gigantic additions she'd added to 
her body over the years; her rough declaration of power to the 
world-at-large every time she slid a tank top over her doorway 
shoulders and took a stroll through the Safeway... 
     My adulation brought an amused smile to her face, pleased 
that her slave was so enthralled and delighted with her body.  
     I reverently, docilely, moved along her vast frame again, 
feeling very small and weak as I lay atop it, exploring the hard 
peaks and deep valleys of the work of art that was her body, the 
work that Michelangelo never had a chance to make....        
     Now I played with the soft satin blanket tucked up only to 
her midsection, and lifted it again; this time not for a small 
unseeing hand to enter and voyage, oh no... 
     Peeking shyly underneath it, I looked down to the treasures 
that pulsed, waiting for attention from timid slaves.  
     Fear made me hesitate, suddenly unsure of myself when put in 
charge of the proceedings, like a dull store clerk who is 
suddenly thrown behind the register at Christmas... 
     I ran my hands gently, with reverence and awe and a humbled 
succor, around the huge vascular body one more time just for 
luck; a peasant allowed to touch the robe of his empress.   
     And playfully, hoping to please her with my ardor if not my 
expertise, I moved under the blanket, and began kissing the dark 
bare flesh of her abdomen, moving my tongue over the hard rungs 
of muscle that resided there.  I kissed the bare, shapely hips, 
and in the darkness they were invisible hips; but they would do 
credit to a Vegas showgirl, or a Playboy Centerfold, hips that 
declared a profound femininity that still prevailed, powerful 
enough to coax her huge muscularity to co-exist with, rather than 
overtake, her womanhood.   
     The combination was like some rare agreement between some 
natural elements long at odds and considered incompatible, like 
fire and ice, to form together, creating a natural phenomenon 
never before seen, for a common good... 
     Or in this case, a gorgeous good, I thought as my mouth went 
now to her vagina.   
     A brutal, malevolent, ferocious good; a paradoxical good 
that smeared it's beauty and flexed it's unimaginable muscles 
right in your face and laughed at your poor contrast to it's 
cherished place amongst the Goddesses of Beauty and Strength.. 
     A good that would mistreat you, spank you, brutally rape 
you, then snap it's fingers and make you dance to the ceaseless 
strummings of her heartless tunes... 
     I began to lick the sweet-tasting mahogany of her flesh; 
flesh that, combined with the secretions she began to emit 
through tiny pores located deep within the tight but fleshy 
doorways to her sacred pussy, produced a nectar that intoxicated 
like no wine I had ever known.  Her secretions were different 
from any I had ever known; it was sweet; yes, richly sweet as I 
have noted.  But there was more; it had a viscosity that seemed 
superhuman!  
     It was almost gelatinous, like slow syrup; until, at the 
touch of a hot wet tongue, or the thrusting of a hard penis, it 
gave way, and oozed into a softer fluid, heavy and offering 
lubrication that seemed capable of meeting the invitation of any 
man or men, indefinitely... 
     Producing it unendingly, the flowing, slippery, and mellow 
substance could capture her lover and hold him for as long as she 
chose to remain aroused, like some queen wasp taking her 
pleasure... 
     The love-lips plumped, and my tongue bathed them ardently, 
desperately, in long slow licks that stretched them with my 
straining tongue, only to watch, in the dim light now visible 
under cover of the blanket, as they snapped back quickly into 
place, like a sweet soft and strange elastic that never lost it's 
shape.   
     I had noticed earlier how large her clitoris was, an erect 
and pink little finger of flesh that made itself apparent now, 
unsheathing itself from the folds of fleshy protection around it, 
growing almost visibly as I watched, as though stretching after 
being awakened from slumber. It had not appeared quite this large 
earlier, as she sat, legs open, over me as I nervously cleaned 
her spike-heeled shoes, kneeling at her feet, my eyes daring to 
travel upwards to her sex as my hands had fumbled with the 
leather; and it seemed only slightly larger than that of the 
average woman when we conjoined moments ago.  
     But now it stood, a defiant red-pink, oozing, bathed with 
her aromatic and thick fluids, seeming to answer the challenge it 
had been called to with a slow and powerful entrance, as though 
it was some strange pink weapon, a creature beckoned from it's 
cave... 
     My mouth went to it, eagerly, and worshiped there for some 
time, saying silent little prayers upon her altar with my tongue. 
 
     My hands, too, did their work, and I gently pulled the lips 
apart as I paid my homage to her sex, giving me a clear view of 
the hard jutting clitoris in the occasional moments when I would 
pull back, just for a moment, only to lower my head again, and 
kiss the singular organ of my queen.   
     She began to writhe; a motion that excited me almost as 
much, I thought, as it did her... 
     Hands went to my head, pushing my mouth hard against her 
crotch, my frantic tongue burrowing deep and hard into her sex, 
and I did the bidding of my queen, hoping to please, hungry to 
taste, more, more... 
     My mouth began to ache, but I would not stop until... 
     Presently, she let out a low moan, rumbling from deep within 
her diaphragm.  I was sure I felt the vibrations on my tongue as 
the sound escaped her, her body shaking ever so slightly with, I 
hoped, delight. 
     Would she be pleased with her slave? It was all I cared 
about, all that concerned me... 
     Suddenly, with the strength she alone could ever have, she 
reached down for her lap-licking houseboy, and pulled me close to 
her again, my face damp with her orgasmic female ejaculate.  
     But she was looking at me not at all, just staring at a 
point high above the ceiling of the darkened room, the candles 
beginning to extinguish themselves as they burned low in the 
holder.  Her arm made an encore appearance around my shoulder, 
her long fingernails absently stroking my thin arm for some time 
as we lay there together. 
     "Ma'am?", I said after a while. 
     "What is it, my tiny little cub scout?" she said languidly. 
 searching for sleep.   
     "I think I found a spot on your body that isn't all tan..." 
     She laughed now, one of the few times I would ever hear her 
laugh, openly, for the enjoyment of it, her guard down. Her vast 
body shook as she lost herself in the moment... 
     The thought seemed to return to her again a minute later, 
for after regaining her silent composure she began once again to 
laugh, as though it was a laugh long sought, a release for this 
incredibly muscular dominatrix who strode through life like a 
colossus of sex and muscle. 
     Presently, she grew quiet again, and we lay like that for 
some time, and I felt good that I had reached her on a level that 
was not completely sexual, if only for a moment. I snuggled 
against her with the easy familiarity of a long-time lover. 
     Though I did not realize at the time, that same strange void 
seemed to open up in my mind, again.   
     Who was I?   
     Who was this woman?   
     These were questions that had not yet formed on my conscious 
mind, forced to some sub-level I did not yet know, and would not 
know until a time still in the future... 
     I opened my eyes after a while, the room now completely 
shrouded in inky darkness, not sure whether Margo was awake or 
asleep, and afraid to ask lest I stir her from her reverie.   
     I could feel her chest rising and falling gently under my 
head, and I sensed, somehow, her large erect nipple, inches from 
my mouth... 
     Leaning forward, I put my lips around it, sucking gently, 
and, feeling small and safe beneath her huge arm, I soon fell 
asleep, sprawled in adoration over the huge mountain of cosmic 
sexual strength that was her huge body. 

FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723 
 
 
                          M'Lady Muscle 
 
                          Chapter Four: 
 
                     Margo Shaves Her Slave  
 
 
     Next morning, when I awoke, she was gone.   
     And as I swiped at the sleep that lingered in my squinting 
eyes, I half-wondered if I hadn't dreamed the whole thing; that a 
night spent with Margo, writhing in wild rapture, had been 
nothing but my fevered imagination fulfilling what my waking life 
could not. But as my eyes adjusted in the darkened surroundings, 
I knew otherwise. 
     There was a note on the table.  I picked it up. 
 
     Slave: 
     Perform the tasks I have ordered you to do.  Return here 
immediately afterwards.  Tell any friends you may have that you 
are going away for some time, immediately, sailing around the 
world, and that you will not contact them. I will take care of 
your rent for the duration until I manage to sublet your 
apartment. Take a taxi back to the beach and get your car, and 
bring it here.   
     It will be sold... 
     Also, I want you to turn your little brain to something 
while your body goes about my bidding today.  I want you to make 
up some properly worshipful titles for me.   
     I get tired of "Oh, my big strong mistress!" pretty quickly. 
     Be back here no later than six o'clock. 
 
                              Margo 
 
     I did as she had told me. 
     Things were slow at work, and lay-offs imminent.  They were 
half-grateful at my request for some time off, effective 
immediately.  
     New to town, and with no family back east, there were no 
real calls to make. Except one.  But I didn't know how to even go 
about that one.... 
     I went home, packed some toiletries, and called a cab, still 
not sure of these strange but very powerful feelings that the 
very thought of the six-foot-seven inch Madame of Muscle 
instilled in me, a creature whose hardness of heart was matched 
only by the hardness of her body, a singular woman, whom the 
angels had named Margo... 
     I got back at dusk.   
     Margo was grimly pumping iron in the room where she had 
given me such an impressive demonstration last night, and I 
followed the sounds of metal clanking and heavy female grunting 
like a bat, knowing what sight I would see at the end of the 
trail of Pumped LadyMuscle. 
     Her raging biceps were swollen to bursting, like molten 
mountains ready to release hot lava, thick and deadly; as though 
angry at the meager forces of nature that tried to tame them, and 
limit their size. It may have been my imagination, but as I 
watched her pound out rep after rep with two hundred pounds of 
solid iron, she seemed ready to transform, and become some 
singular muscular mutation, estrogen and steel merging... 
     She was naked, the only item on her person being two thick 
black sweatbands of some sort, stretched tightly across her 
massive upper arms, and the chignon that held her thick hair back 
from her cruelly haughty face. Not a tan line anywhere; brown all 
over, rewarded by the sun, paid in full with the darkness of her 
exotic flesh. 
     There were rivers, subcutaneous rivers, enflaming her skin, 
and seeming ready to leap their banks... 
     How the weights seemed like a toy in her grip! How she did 
it was beyond imagination, but obviously well within the 
tolerance of those great oaken arms; the barbell served only to 
accentuate their vast definition. 
     And make her look even better than she had when first I saw 
her, on the hot beach, a woman amongst little girls. 
 
     Her hair was done so differently it almost could be a 
disguise; it was braided into two long sections, and wrapped 
around in a circle, much like the photos one sees of German 
maidens of the last century. It was the sort of thing a woman 
might wear if she were going to a costume party; but there was no 
costume; just Margo hefting wrought-iron in the nude. 
     Magnificently, impossibly, beautifully, nude. 
     But I hoped, as I eyed the huge breasts standing erect over 
straining pectoral, shining in the warm overhead light. Her 
calves were bulging, as she perched in sky-scraper heels, like 
baseballs just below the skin. My penis stirred to rigid life, 
and I hoped that there would still be a party after all...? 
     If I expected any warmth of greeting from her, I was going 
to be disappointed.  She saw me in the doorway, and her Glamour- 
Gun Arms froze the plate-metal solid, in mid-rep, and a snarl 
grew instantly on her hard beautiful face. 
     "Get those fucking clothes off right now, slave.  How dare 
you cover yourself when your goddess is unclothed!", she raged, 
almost losing control of the massive barbell in her 
blood-engorged, huge limbs; the first sign of any trouble in 
handling it. 
     I stripped quickly, hands shaking with fear and lust at the 
pumped-up Amazon Goddess and her stunning body, that brought 
large and furious muscle to bear.   
     My nerdish clothes disappeared into the bag.   
     Margo threw down the weights, her vast muscles pulsing, 
alive with power; pumped. I was naked in front of her, and knew 
just what she wanted to see and hear.  My penis now throbbed with 
urgent wantings... 
     "Gosh, Ms. Margo, you're so big!" I gushed, as my eyes 
feasted on a hot-mamma galaxy of muscular development.   
     Her sweaty scent was driving me crazy as she glowed in the 
light.  If I had been blind, I still would have wanted her... 
     Knowing the kind of talk that she liked to hear, and using 
it, seemed to calm her. It was ardent, worshipful talk, wildly 
exaggerated panting; almost cartoon-like in it's emphasis on her 
size and muscularity and it's contrast to my own slender frame.  
     If she had not been so beautiful a woman, she might indeed 
be a cartoon herself; but somehow, that description was not 
something I thought would please her.  All the same, I launched 
into the talk, not sure if I was acting or not... 
     "Hubba-hubba," I said, breathlessly, earnestly, hands over 
my heart as my eyes devoured the larger-than-life savagery that 
was her nakedness; every muscle a threat and a promise and a 
thing to be savored; worshiped. 
     Margo enjoyed hearing that ancient and out-of-date 
expression. It sounded corny to me, but she had used it last 
night, and it seemed to placate her.  She arched an eyebrow.   
     "Good thing you have a way with words, slave.  But let's get 
one thing straight.  You're NEVER to wear clothing around me. 
You're naked and you'll stay that way unless I tell you 
otherwise.  Get me?" She barked those words in a low but 
punctuated voice, stirring fear, and gave me a love-tap across my 
face that stung lightly, and her perspiration ran across my lips, 
and I licked it clean and savored the memory of it's taste. 
     Another nod from her slave. 
     Taking me by the hand, she led me like a child, down the 
hall into the large bathroom.  She turned her broad back to me, 
for just a second, and opened a medicine cabinet over the sink; 
she then turned around again, producing a razor in her hand that 
looked sharp and unused and ready to do it's work.   
     She held it up close to her face, and looked at me 
menacingly; her expression was serious; her swollen muscles 
backed up any unspoken threat. 
     She moved over to the large-sized toilet. It was elevated on 
a small platform, giving it the true appearance of a "throne," 
and was colored a rich gold; apparently in keeping with what I 
would learn to be Margo's love of puns.  She lifted both the 
cover and the seat, and pointed into the deep bowl.   
     "Sit," she commanded, and she opened the medicine cabinet 
over the sink. 
     I obeyed, and squatted over the cold porcelain. It gave me a 
brief shock as I nestled upon it, like the flash of momentary 
pain you feel when you jump into a too-cold swimming pool. 
     Margo took one look at my ungainly pose and smirked; annoyed 
that I had not anticipated her desires. Roughly grabbing one of 
my legs, she lifted my foot and placed it to the right, over the 
edge of the adjacent sink; now she took the other and pushed it 
to the far left, looping it through the shower curtain chain.   
     My legs were now splayed out in opposite directions in a 
position that was almost as uncomfortable as it was undignified, 
and I had to strain to keep my body from sinking into the cold 
water beneath.   
     I sat motionless, feeling the strain that this awkward 
position was putting on my stomach muscles.  But Margo, ever the 
woman in charge, ignored any discomfiture on my part.  Instead, 
she produced a scissor, and I knew at once what was coming.   
     She had been serious about it...!! 
 
     She knelt before me and brandished the wicked razor, letting 
the overhead light dance on and off the sharp edge. 
     "Don't get any ideas, slave, seeing me on my knees," she 
cautioned, kneeling over me.  "This is the only time you're 
gonna see it.  The rest of the time, it's gonna be your position. 
At Big Margo's feet," she decreed, "waiting for permission to 
touch her. If I feel like it. I might want to have a muscle 
sucked on for a while or something like that. Margo digs that.  
You can give me a little musclehickey," she sneered, and twitched 
one of the many huge slabs of living hot muscle on her arm...  
     "...and I can show it off to all my big, pumped-up 
girlfriends at the gym. Won't they all be so jealous?" she cooed, 
before turning to her task with relish. 
 
     She used the scissor to trim my pubic hair efficiently and 
coldly, to mere stubs, brushing the clipped hair off my skin 
where it had fallen, discharged from whatever ancient service it 
performed.  The sheared and curling hair wafted down, into the 
water beneath me.  As she went about the task, I got the sweet 
aroma of her perspiration, an undefinable, heady scent induced by 
her session spent with the iron. 
     "Aren't you the cooperative little slave?" she praised me. 
"Keeping your little cock all hard for your muscle-mistress. It 
makes it SO much easier to do my work...," she leered wickedly, 
flashing her sharp little teeth. 
     "See, slave, with your cock erect I can hold it out of the 
way with just a finger.  And it makes your balls nice and tight, 
too," she said, running a thumb along them. 
     "Bet they think they're gonna have some fun, huh?," she 
hissed with pleasure as she licked her lips and eyed the 
testicles. 
     "These little balls think their master is gonna get them 
laid, huh?  They think the old rules still apply, don't they?  
Your cock better learn, too.  It probably thinks it can do 
whatever it wants to, like some little stud, and awe some little 
receptionist somewhere; knock her up and brag to your friends," 
she said, only now taking her eyes away from my crotch. 
     "Well, that shit is over with, slave."  She stood up and 
leaned right into my face; her huge bare breasts stroked across 
my shoulders.  They felt clammy and cool as the perspiration 
dried on her skin. 
     She cupped my entire crotch in her one huge hand, and it 
vanished in her grasp... 
     "This belongs to me for now on, slave.  Isn't that the way 
it should be, after all?," she asked as though it was a 
long-sought resolution to a problem; and a long finger slid down 
deeply between my beleaguered buttocks.  
     "Yes, ma'am," was all I could say to the six-and-a-half-foot 
tall woman whose wild beauty and vast muscularity had arrested my 
mind completely; reformatted the hard drive that was my brain, 
and partitioning my mind to slavish sectors of desiring worship. 
 
     Margo filled the sink with hot water, and soaked a cloth 
with it.  I looked up to her with the meek acceptance of a 
patient under his surgeon.  She then wrung it's contents out over 
my loins, squeezing the cloth hard, warm water cascading over my 
skin; she gave the cloth a twist so as to get every ounce of 
moisture from it. It was a telling gesture---her attitude towards 
everything, in fact.  Get everything it had and putting it to her 
own use.   
     She applied some cream, and smiling as she hummed a pop 
tune, began to shave my genitals with practiced ease.  The feel 
of the cold sharp metal on my loins was alien and had a 
particularly subjugating effect, as though parts of me I long 
presumed as fixed and familiar were not permitted under the 
domain of this gargantuan Amazon ruffian.  I was being 
transformed in this small but telling way, to conform to her 
standards.   
     "You see, little slave, these huge steamin' muscles are good 
for things besides weightlifting, or spanking naughty boys," she 
explained, pointing at the engorged deltoid with a cream-filled 
razor.  The muscle was still full of a big-veined pump that last 
set of reps had given her...  
 
     They were also good, she bragged, to help her hold her arms 
perfectly still, a requirement for this sort of work, she 
informed me in the businesslike tone a carpenter would use to 
describe some minor construction job.  
     "After all," she taunted, "you don't want Margo to slip and 
make you a little soprano, do you?  Although," she chuckled, 
after a moment's thought, "it might be kind of fun to have myself 
a little eunuch around," she taunted, shaking my penis 
between three long-nailed and manicured fingers... 
      "I wouldn't have to worry about this fuckin' thing causing 
me any trouble. I'll have to keep that in mind."   
 
     The Teutonic Temptress made long and steady paths across my 
steadily-vanishing pubic patch, and she seemed to relish the act, 
as she held the throbbing penis at bay as though it were an 
annoying appendage that interfered with the act. In a detached 
moment I saw it as she must; it looked small in her large hand, 
and incapable of adequately pleasing so large and vast a woman. 
     There was a look of pleased authority about her. She loved 
the presumption, the command, with which she had prescribed and 
administered this bold treatment, for humiliation was the sweet 
nectar that made her large life worthwhile. 
     Moments later, she scraped the last wisps of hair from my 
dangling testicles.  She worked delicately, surprisingly so, as I 
ran my eyes yet again over the massively thick muscles of her 
arms, chest, shoulders; seminal fluid appeared at the head of my 
penis.  
     M'Lady chuckled at it's appearance.  Putting the razor down 
for just a moment, she pointed the head of my penis with one 
hand, towards my face, and pulled my head down to it with 
another.  
     "Lick that off, slave." 
     I struggled to obey, my tongue trying to reach and touch the 
head of my penis. After struggling--and nearly falling off the 
cold porcelain more than once, to Margo's delighted laughter-- 
finally, stomach muscles burning, I managed to lick drop of fluid 
away.  
     My spine ached... 
     She smiled as though envying me the taste.   
     "Good, huh?" she said as she picked up the razor again. 
     "Yes, my Muscle-Queen." 
     "Don't I know it, mouse.." 
 
     The comment had almost caught her off-guard; she smiled with 
pleasure at this surrender from a slave, and she held the razor 
up close to her eyes, studying it.. 
     "Know something?  It's a wonder you didn't take a razor just 
like this one and do yourself in years ago, slaveboy.  Up 'til 
now, what have you had to live for?  But you got me now, mousie.  
And now, your life can begin, right?..." 
 
     As she continued to shave me, she began talking, in much the 
way a barber might as she went about her job.... 
     "So, my slave, tell me---there must have been a few women in 
your past.  Tell me about them," she intoned with just the hint 
of a command coming into her voice. 
     "Gosh, ma'am.  There hasn't been anyone like you, that's for 
sure," I offered, reverently, eyes roving her physique. 
     She laughed.  "Of course not.  But there must have been some 
sweet little thing--- somewhere who thought you were quite a 
stud, right?" 
     "Yes, ma'am," I replied, a bit proud for a moment, but then 
reminding myself where I was and what was being done to me. 
 
     But her head snapped up, as though alerted by my sin of 
sexual pride, and her hard eyes locked on mine... 
     "But she was wrong, wasn't she?," Margo said.  "You're no 
stud," she chuckled, shaking her head.  "Are you?" she asked, 
shaving the shaft of my penis now, where a few renegade hairs now 
surrendered themselves to the long smooth strokes of her blade. 
     "No, ma'am, " I replied worshipfully.  "I'm just a slave." 
     "What kind of slave?" 
     "A worshipping...little muscle-slave, my queen." 
     She nodded with satisfaction, justified by both what she 
heard and from the progression of her task. 
     She went about her business, removing the last telltale 
signs of the pubic hair I had once, many years ago, been so proud 
to see sprout on my body.  She put a hand on my solar plexus and 
pushed me down deeply into the toilet, my body grazing the cold 
water beneath.  With one strong hand, she pulled my legs out; and 
I slipped even further down into the commode.  She pushed the 
flesh of my buttocks apart; she sneered at what she saw. 
 
     My knees were pushed back now, so that they almost straddled 
my head; and I felt her warm breath on that most private of 
places, intruding on the last outpost of my dignity.  She scraped 
the scraggly hairs away, only once looking away from her task to 
sneer at me, right in the eye, smiling a small smile of triumph, 
as though to show me what she could do to me if she wished, 
amused at my subservience that even now puzzled me... 
     I should not be suffering these indignities, should I?  
Couldn't I just get up and leave, or run for the door the next 
time she wasn't looking?   
     The Ultra-Muscled Dominatrix poured more of the warm water 
on my groin, and I watched the white cream melt away under the 
flow, clearly and completely revealing my newly-bared genitals.  
My hairless penis still throbbed mightily, but that erection was 
the only sign of my manhood; she had done just what she said she 
would.    
     I was hairless as a child. 
     She stood haughtily over me, surveying the job, and looking 
quietly satisfied, with a shrug of barn-door shoulders. 
     "Good, just like a little chihuahua," she laughed. 
     She produced a mirror, and held it under me in triumph, 
anxious to show me Her Will Made Reality. 
     "Look, slavie, what your great big strong musclegirl did to 
you!" she taunted me, amused at another swift defeat of her 
freshly-picked slave. I saw nothing but the strange sight of 
my bared testicles, penis, and anus, peering back at me in the 
mirror. 
     They looked completely unfamiliar in this shorn state, as 
though they had been subjected to some terrible shock; like a raw 
recruit drafted and shorn for a war already lost. 
     I had surrendered. A Bare-Assed Appomattox on A Gold Toilet. 
     "Aren't you going to thank me, slaveboy?," she asked, as 
though disappointed that I had not offered them already. 
     "Yes, ma'am.  Thank you." 
     "Thank you for what? How many times do I have to tell you? 
Be specific, mouse." 
     Margo never let you off the hook... 
     "Thank you, ma'am, for shaving all my hair.  I hope that it 
pleases you now..." 
     Another laugh. 
     "It would please me a helluva lot more if that cock of yours 
was another three of four inches longer, the way I like 'em," she 
vamped, like a young Mae West on Steroids.  
     "The way they oughta be.  I think that men should be made to 
wear little signs on their shirts letting all the horny ladies of 
the world know what they were packin' in their bikini briefs. 
That way, when some hot-to-trot chick dresses up in her shortest, 
tightest little skirt and high fuck-me-mister heels, and wiggles 
her way into some dark little bar, she wouldn't find herself 
wasting her time talking all night with some stupid thimbledick.  
She could head right to the guy with the sign on his muscle-tee 
that says `Nine Inches--No Waiting, Ladies!'  Big Margo'd be 
first in line, slaveboy, you can bet your ass on that," she 
nodded, sure of herself and her tastes... 
     "`Course, if YOU wore a sign, your's would read `Four 
Inches--No Laughing, Ladies!'" 
     Margo found that comparison to be brilliantly humorous.   
     She laughed again, having a very good time tonight, taming 
and shearing her slave like a sheep. 
     Her arms were still full of angry swollen veins from the 
recent workout; the iron was still hot, as it were, and so was 
her sweet hard flesh; she lowered a huge arm to me, offering it 
to my salivating mouth; and I traced a prominent vein with my 
tongue as it wrapped it's way up, up to her shoulder.  
     The flesh made me weak; it's taste was sublime, 
intoxicating. 
     She stood again, pulling away a feast better than any meal.  
I knew better than to move without her permission, choosing to 
let this most undignified of positions remain the sight I 
presented to her no matter how painful it was becoming... 
 
     "Well, that's that," she decreed, as though this Madame-So- 
Muscular was a maid who'd just finished the windows...   
     "Really, slavie, you do look so much more..." she hesitated, 
as though searching for the right word. Then he harsh eyes lit 
up, as the right title came to her... 
     "...`slavelike' now.  A blank slate waiting for his Muscle- 
Queen to write upon. So tell me now.  Until yesterday, did you 
have a girl?" 
     I nodded, wistful almost for a second, for Barbara, the tall 
and well-built but painfully shy girl I had been dating. I was 
ashamed to admit I hadn't given her little thought in the last 24 
hours. 
     "Her little heart is gonna be broken, huh?" 
     "I suppose so, ma'am," I gulped. 
     "Never fear.  Big Margo will find her a new heartthrob.  How 
about it---want to do a good deed for the poor sweet little girl 
whose heart you've broken?" 
     "If that pleases you, ma'am." 
     She glimpsed down at my shaven genitals. 
     "Yeah, I think it will...." 
     She ordered me to stand now, and I awkwardly maneuvered 
myself out of the thin chain that held my left leg in place.  The 
muscles in my legs had become stiff from their forced encapture, 
and the chain's rattle made me think of an ancient Roman slave as 
he served his owner; I could see Margo as a Roman Gladiatrix, 
magnificent, ferocious, towering over her foes and defeating all 
comers, men and women alike.  
     Magnificent in triumph.  And she was now. 
     Margo leaned over to inspect the mass of shaving cream, 
stubble, and curly pubic hair that floated in the toilet. 
     She flicked the handle, and the water began to swirl, little 
islands of white cream being sucked down, taking the scragglier 
deposits along with it. I felt a mist of cold spray on my bare 
flesh... 
     "Well, " she said, firmly, "you can just kiss your little 
old life goodbye, slavie. End of story. This is how you'll be for 
now on," she informed with a smoothly lascivious pass of a hand 
on my hairless crotch.  
     It felt alien, but my erection burned with the contact. 
     She tossed the razor to me.  "Finish the job right now.  I 
want every strand of body hair gone when I get back.  Get me?" 
     I acknowledged the order with a timid nod, and proceeded to 
step into the shower to carry out her order. 
     I knew, as my bodyhair hair slipped down the drain, that I 
was already past making a run for the door, or asking her to 
treat me with any degree of respect.  
     I was already her slave. 
     And I couldn't wait for her to get back... 
 
     The room was full of the steam of the hot shower, and I 
could not see the door open.  Suddenly, though, the door of the 
large shower stall was thrown wide, and Margo stood naked before 
me, looking me up and down.  She stepped majestically into the 
shower, the water cascading over the rough-hewn muscles like a 
waterfall as it made it's way over ancient resilient stone on 
it's way to the earth below.  I edged into the corner of the 
spacious booth; the better to appreciate the sight...   
     But she was not here to entertain. Margo was here for her 
slave to attend her. 
     She reached for me and took me in those astounding arms.  
The barest remnant of perspiration remained on the flesh. 
 
     "Oh, ma'am," I asked, breath coming tight and hard in her 
grasp, "before you wash, please...let me...let me...." 
     "What?" she asked coolly, water running off her head and 
into my eyes... 
     "What does my little slave want from his great, big, hard, 
mean queen?" 
     "It...it's just that...well, you have such a wonderful 
scent.  I love the way you smell after you work out with your big 
weights." 
     "Yeah ?" she asked, surprised. "Well, well, well, slavie, 
maybe I won't shower quite so often, and let you get a little 
more of that Margo aroma, huh?  If you like that scent, you'll 
just love the way my cunt smells after I've been fucked by one of 
my lovers.  Of course, you'll get more than a mouthful if you 
give me a little pussyworship," she purred, obviously pleased as 
her hands encompassed my erection. 
     "Oh, if it pleases you, big ma'am, that would be wonderful," 
I breathed... 
 
     She then instructed me to wash her carefully and with 
painful attention to detail, lightly dabbing her nipples with 
soap; I would pause for a moment to look to her for approval, and 
getting it, I would continue the wonderful task before me.   
     She looked down on me, smiling, water cascading off those 
wonderful muscles like a natural falls flowing over craggy rock, 
the water finding it's own pathways down her broad and 
magnificent body, rivers raging along her frame.  I thought to 
make a joke, and refer to her as Margo Falls; for such was the 
force of the white water...  
     I was ordered to shampoo her neatly trimmed pubes, and I 
did, slowly, lovingly, the vagina aroused in the warm water's 
flow.  
     She made a teasing comment that pubic hair was only for 
Muscle-Queens, and not their slaves, and reminded me that I was 
to keep my entire body, especially my groin, hairless at all 
times... 
     "Clean as a whistle, slavie. Get me?" she said, a note of 
affectionate mock-menace in her voice, as I knelt before her in 
adoration, beneath the torrent of water and Margo's wishes... 
     She now instructed me to take down her hair and wash it 
slowly and thoroughly, the heavy hair even weightier in the 
torrential downpour of the shower.  How I cherished performing 
this task for her, feeling the heavy silken tresses in my 
hands... 
     I nodded, eager to please, long having forgiven any 
discomfort she may have subjected me to.  After all, it had been 
necessary to please her, hadn't it?  And now she was mine; or I, 
hers. 
     When her mane was cleaned and attended, I was pushed back to 
my knees. Immediately I kissed the large pink clitoris, licking 
it as she leaned against the wall of the shower.   
     We stayed that way for nearly an hour, slave and mistress as 
one as I tasted her succulence, the lips fleshy and taut under my 
tongue; I inhaled the musky aroma emanating from her womb.  
     The shower was large, and we sat on the floor, like children 
in a soft rain.  But there was nothing childish in the goings-on 
behind Margo's shower door; I was continuing to explore, probe; 
with shaking hand and reverent tongue... 
     But finally, she put the session to an end.  She got out of 
the shower abruptly, without a word, after grabbing me by the 
hair as my head bent in reverence at her open legs and pushing me 
backwards, where I struggled to maintain my balance again, before 
flopping to the tiled wet floor.  She had decided to ignore the 
erection I had sported nonstop since first seeing her nude, 
flexed form in the weightroom.  
     It throbbed achingly, but I knew throughout the session that 
I could do nothing without her instigation or permission.  She 
had stroked it, she had played with it, and for one marvelous 
moment, I thought she would allow me to penetrate the heaven of 
her sex.. 
     But she had been teasing; and she took hold of my head and 
pressed my mouth to her breast, where I suckled hungrily at the 
half-inch long, thick nipple. 
 
     I had so hoped she would allow me some relief... 
     But Margo, mindful of only her own pleasure, had denied me. 
     She left the bathroom dripping wet, leaving a wet trail in 
her magnificent, muscular wake. 
     When I had toweled off, I walked into the guestroom where my 
goddess had ravished me the night before.  I found a list written 
in a strong feminine hand laying upon the bed, and read it. 
 
     Tasks: 
     Laundry--handwashing of underthings. 
     Cleaning--all bedlinen changed. 
     Shopping--food list attached. 
 
     I looked and found a long list of foodstuffs written on a 
piece of additional paper, and knew that I would be doing all the 
shopping for this amazon; I really would be a slave, not a mere 
sexual toy, no; I would be expected to tend to her needs as a 
woman in all ways. After all, as she would remind me many times 
in the weeks to come, I was here for her convenience. 
     I sat there for a few minutes, studying it.  The thought 
came into my mind again, nagging me, that this was too bizarre a 
situation to permit to go on.   
     I had no freedom.   
     I had no rights.   
     Yet, I knew I couldn't go.  And momentarily, as if on 
cue, the reason for my captivity both self-imposed and forced, 
returned.... 
     Margo walked in, a bodybuilding vision in white leather. 
     She had designed it herself, and it suited her.  A high 
white collar flowed and extended down across her chest, expanding 
into two straps that ran over her huge breasts, their width just 
enough to cover the areolae and little more.  The straps met 
below her exposed navel, and flared to form a little vest that 
hung over her hips. 
     A thick matching white belt intersected the gap of exposed 
flesh on her stomach.   
     She had applied makeup, skillfully, highlighting just the 
right qualities that drove her beauty to nearly-painful, cosmic 
heights in my eyes. She wore skintight black slacks, and she 
shifted her considerable weight on a pair of high black heels; 
while she threw a freshly-washed and combed mane of blonde ocean 
about on her head, and the waves crashed far down her back, and a 
flaxen spray tumbled about her torso...   
     The daring outfit did nothing to conceal her upper body, 
it's huge muscles like a suit of sexual armor that their owner 
wore, repelling enemies and pulling willing slaves, like myself, 
to her grasp. 
     "That laundry can be started tonight, my mouse," nodding at 
the list. "The panties need to be washed in cold water, by hand.  
Protein stains are so hard to get out, you know," she winked 
conspiratorially, as she fussed with an earring. 
 
     She was looking towards my legs now, nodding slightly, in 
thought. 
     "Hey, you know something, slavie?  Your legs are gorgeous," 
she said, walking closer to inspect them.  She stood with her 
hands on her hips, surveying them. My eyes went to her deltoids, 
flexed and huge, two thick half-ovals growing and meeting on the 
thick slab of flesh as she held the pose. 
     "Won't my gal-pals be ever-so-jealous when they get a load 
of those sexy gams of yours?" she leered. "Why, I'll be the envy 
of every female bodybuilder on the coast!" she laughed. "For now 
on, you'll keep those cute legs where I can see 'em. No more long 
pants for you, not even when we go out. After all, slavie, the 
one who wears the muscle wears the pants, and I think we know 
which one of us that is!" she leered, making a mountain-mouthful 
out of her hefty right bicep. 
     The sight of Margo, dressed provocatively, daring to show 
her package of bare breast and broad muscle to the world without 
a second thought, was too much for me.  As she brushed the 
leather outfit as though to remove any unseen imperfection, she 
turned this way and that, inspecting her image, patting a 
rockhard, flat tummy, adjusting the leather straps that 
decorated, but did not pretend to cover, her huge brown bosom.  
     My erection raged, seminal fluid boiling, oozing, demanding, 
begging for release from it's tortured captivity.  A thick 
droplet formed at the head of my penis and it soon hung suspended 
in its own viscosity, an inch-long string of clear sticky pre- 
ejaculate issued from the testicles Margo had claimed as hers as 
she had denuded them. The moisture foretold that an impending 
eruption would occur with little more stimulation than a pat on 
the backside, like a mother burps a baby unable to rid itself of 
gas... 
     Margo took my hand, and walked me to the satin-covered bed, 
where sat back upon it, hands going to lock around her kneecap, 
legs crossed. She motioned me to sit at her feet, cold wood under 
my naked flesh. 
     "I want to show you something." 
     "Yes, ma'am, " I asked eagerly, desperate to please. 
     "First, wipe your cum from your cock before it gets on the 
floor," she spat, indicating my dilemma with her chin, a look of 
vague disgust crossing her face for just a moment.  
     I looked down, and only then became aware of the long string 
of pre-semen that hung from the head of my penis.  I complied.  
     Somehow, I knew what she would want me to do with the salty 
droplet that just a moment ago had oozed up from my testicles, 
and dripped out the opening of my pulsating penis, in desperate 
search of release. 
     I licked it from my finger, and looked up to see a slight 
look of approval from her, a nod barely perceptible. 
     "I'm going to read you a bed-time story," she said. 
     The words sounded incongruous coming from this huge and 
powerful source of sexual desire, and she must have realized that 
I would be confused, because after a moment, she explained. 
     "I want to show you a muscle story, about a slave finding 
his big lady love, and how she rescues him from his life.  Just 
like what that guy on the boardwalk probably is dreaming about 
right now, remember?  When I was combing my hair?  He wanted what 
you've got, slavie.  You ought to consider yourself very lucky, 
you know...." 
     "Oh, I do, ma'am, I do...," earnestly now, almost childlike 
in my desire to please as I sat, my body naked and hairless at 
the feet of this powerfully built monument to womanhood.  Her 
calves bulged a mere foot from my eyes. 
     She was rocking back and forth slightly, her power-laden 
limbs bringing their essence to bear as she moved, knowing it 
would madden me as her trapezius sprung into hard, defined shape 
under the leather as she shrugged and leaned back on the huge 
arms.  
     From under the pillow, she withdrew a provocative magazine, 
whose covered depicted an extremely muscular woman standing in a 
crashing surf wearing nothing more than a microscopic string 
bikini and approximately ninety pounds of magnificent she-muscle. 
     The name of the periodical was "All-Amazon #12." 
     My muscular mistress held the offering up the way a 
kindergarten teacher might, propping it up so that we both could 
see it's contents. She opened it's cover, and began showing me an 
amazing world of graphic art... 
 
     "Robin Ator's True Love Returns" was the title of the first 
story, and told the tale of an ever-hopeful counter-boy's encore 
rendezvous with a gigantically-built woman named "Maisie." 
     With each new page, we see the bony body of young Marvin 
accumulate more abuse at the hands of the haughty she-hulk; one 
panel shows him being stripped of his clothes, and ruthlessly 
spanked; in another he is forced to polish her spike-heeled shoes 
while she stands above him knocking out rep after rep with a 
Chevy-sized barbell. His attention is torn between the patent- 
leather task at hand, and a beautiful woman's ripe pair of 
humongous arms, massively swollen, etched with prominent veins 
rushing blood to feed her latest muscle-pumpings. 
     "Remind you of anybody?" Margo inquired of me, and she 
produced a handkerchief from the adjacent night-table, and let it 
flutter down through the early evening air. 
     I caught it, and, prompted by the graphic art above me, 
began running the cloth in an eager once-over on her wicked- 
stiletto footwear.  
     I looked up to see a satisfied customer... 
     "Something tells me you've done this before," Margo 
concluded as she watched my hands blur on her leather-encased 
feet. "Your real name wouldn't be Marvin, would it?" 
     I smiled. "No, ma'am," I replied, and I remembered again 
that Margo had yet to even ask me my given name.  
     "Slave" was the only way she would address me.... 
     A haughty smile of pure dominance shined down upon me;  as 
she sat on the bed near the window, her white teeth caught a 
fading sunbeam of early evening like a stage-light, and for a 
moment she appeared perfectly supernatural, aglow... 
     Her long-nailed hands flipped the pages, her bracelets 
ajangle and dancing in the jagged sun-shafts that discovered us 
in mid-lesson; a most-muscular schoolmarm and her pubeless pupil. 
     Now a naked Marvin was tending to a cocktail party of 
Maisie's many friends, blondes and brunettes, redheads and died- 
blue Lady Mohawks; all were V-backed Valkyries, six feet and up. 
     Scantily clad and enjoying a sisterly comradeship of she- 
muscle, these pumped-up princesses ran the diminutive Marvin 
ragged, sending him scurrying into the kitchen for more drinks, 
more snacks, pinching and slapping his embattled rear end in 
sweet revenge for every harassed tavern-waitress since the dawn 
of civilization, or the rise of cocktail lounges... 
     "See, slave? You're not the only one kept underfoot by a big 
bad Amazon, are you?" Margo asked, with the patronizing tones 
that a teacher of the very young might well use. But schoolmarms 
didn't make mountains pulse on their free arms, as Margo now did, 
and a crackling volcano-bicep of ladymuscle fought it's way out 
of her arm, and almost succeeded... 
     Now a kitchen confrontation takes place between Marvin and a 
sensuous Asian woman of stunning development, muscular and 
mammarian... 
     Pinning him against the wall, she downs every drink from his 
trembling tray, one after another, until they're gone. The 
cocktail-boy is torn between her alcoholic hedonism and her tank- 
topped titillations, but there's no doubt in her mind what will 
happen next... 
     "Getting interesting, huh, slave?" Margo teased. I nodded 
urgently, my penis hard and throbbing, and she turned the page. 
     The Asian attacker removes her clothes with a quick tug on 
spandex, and begins a naked stalking of a small man half her 
size... 
     Margo closed the magazine and tossed it on the bed. 
     "That's enough for now, my slave," she decreed, wiping her 
hands together dramatically, knowing I was hanging on every 
picture and caption. She eyed my erection and there was amusement 
in her cold blue eyes... 
     "Gotta go," she stated matter-of-factly. "I got a hot date," 
she announced. "And when Margo's pussy needs filling, nothing 
else matters.  Remember what I said about making men wear signs? 
If they did, this guy would have a line of pretty girls around 
the block all just waiting and panting in heat for a chance to 
fuck him," she purred, turning on her spike heels and strutted 
out of the room.     
     "Ma'am?" I called out to her from my slave's-seat on the 
hardwood floorboards... 
     "Hhmm?" she asked, half-turning, tinkering with an earring 
again... 
     "M-may I masturbate now?" I inquired, pleading tones 
prevailing in my trembling voice. 
     "Oh, well," she debated, "I suppose. After I leave.  And use 
the toilet.  I don't want any unnecessary cum stains on this bed, 
get me?" she said, as though giving permission to a nephew to 
watch five more minutes of television before bed. 
 
     I grabbed the Amazonic literature and ran for the blessed 
relief of the bathroom... 
     The final pages were read with one hand, standing jelly- 
kneed over the porcelain... 
     Suffice it to say that the magnificent Maisie intervenes on 
behalf of her slave, and a wild cat-fight ensues. When it's all 
over, an embattled slab of naked New Womanhood named Maisie is 
still standing, her naked foe unconscious on the floor amidst 
broken crockery; and Marvin is cowering under the kitchen 
table... 
     The last panel is a virtual re-play of "True Love Part One"; 
and Maisie stretches out, boldly naked, steely thighs spread 
wide, her curvy architecture a relief-map of female tit-and- 
brawn... 
     That was all the incentive I needed.... 
     Seconds later, I exploded into the water where an hour ago, 
my pubic hair had been shaved off and flushed away by a powerful 
force of nature named Margo.  My hand pumped my exploding penis, 
stars erupting in my mind's eye, semen hitting the water like 
globules shot from a cannon.  
     My mind replayed everything that had happened since I had 
first seen her on the beach.  I saw her strut across the sands, 
muscle displayed in almost arrogant defiance of popular opinion; 
I saw her pulling off her bikini top as we stood in the secluded 
parking lot, her huge back to me; the sessions spent moving iron 
and steel, veins swollen as they fed her gigantic muscles; riding 
me, spanking me, fucking me, playing with me as though I were a 
sex toy she had bought rather than flesh and blood in her arms. 
     I saw her nearly-complacent grin as she shaved me; and 
later, her body big and hard and bold in white leather... 
     As my orgasm subsided, my mind continued to run and flash 
with images of Margo.  Some dark and strange part of me loved 
her, a part I would never admit existed.  But a part, too, that I 
knew would not go away, a demand and a desperate craving for hard 
female Amazon flesh in my timid bed, towering over me, teaching 
me to come to heel. 
     I felt an emptiness, a disappointment that the climax had to 
come this way; alone. I had wanted to be with her again so 
badly... 
     I turned. The instinct that tells one that he is not alone 
was working in my mind, and it was correct.  Margo leaned in the 
doorway, her massive body filling the space, an impossibility 
half-covered in white leather.   
     Her long high-heeled legs were nonchalantly crossed; and she 
had the grin worn only by queens and empresses; haughty and in 
control; authority unquestioned.   
     She applauded derisively, slowly, smirking... 
     "Well done, my slave. Now attend to your chores while I go 
out and get laid with a real man," she decreed. 
     I nodded insipidly while blotting my cock-head with kleenex. 
     And she left for her night on the town.   
     Like a love-sick teen, I listened to her proud footsteps 
descend the stairs and march across the wood floors, her spiked 
heels click-clacking authoritatively as she went. 
     Moments later, I heard the engine of the big Cadillac turn 
over, let out a roar, and vanish into the night, tires squealing. 
     But that was not the last I was to see of Margo that night.  
     Not by a long shot...!! 
 
 
                   Chapter Five: Margo Enraged 
 
 
I spent the rest of the evening in the sparse basement, attending 
to her soiled panties, fragrant with her heavy aroma clinging to 
the cloth; carefully trying to handwash the female oozings as 
well as the semen stains of her lovers from the crotch of the 
silken briefs.  In a way I was almost grateful for the task. It 
allowed the painful, nonstop throbbing of my penis to stop, and 
revert to a shrunken and exhausted state.   
And yet, even then, as I labored for her convenience over the 
washbasin as she pursued her pleasures, the mere thought of her 
body---hard, big, severe, beautiful---aroused me again, 
overcoming any doubts that tried to speak to my consciousness, 
doubts that should have been apparent, even then.... 
I finally had a chance to fulfill one of her earlier commands, 
and invent some new names for Margo, titles with which I might 
address her as she enslaved me in, and with, her body. 
When I had finished the laundry, I listed them with pencil and 
paper I had found on an ancient and dusty battered desk in the 
corner of the room. 
I already knew that Margo had a love for the garish and the 
exaggerated; one glance at her body would make that clear.  She 
enjoyed the cartoonish and larger-than-life persona she embodied; 
and enjoyed my somewhat-stage-managed gushings as I stumbled upon 
her workout....So..... 
 
 
 
                         Names for Margo 
 
Lady Lats           Duchess of Deltoid       Baroness Bicep 
 
Muscle Mistress     Queen of Slavecum   Madame-So-Muscular 
 
Sultana-Spank-Me    Hardbody Hussy      Empress Flex 
 
M'Lady Muscle       Princess of Punishment 
                                 
                      Hubba-Hubba She-Hunk! 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I thought that any of them might suffice, depending on the 
situation...... 
 
I had retired around midnight, exhausted.  She had left a note in 
the basement telling me to sleep there for the night, "In case I 
bring my lover home to fuck", the note had read. 
 
Around two AM, I was wakened by that same sound of Ms. Margo's 
Cadillac as it roared into the garage.  I heard two doors slam, 
and heard muffled conversation taking place, punctuated be the 
throaty laugh of M'lady Muscle. 
The footsteps paused for just a moment, then went straight 
upstairs to the second floor.  Something told me to stay where I 
was, but that something wasn't my curiosity which usually 
prevailed.  I slowly crept upstairs, to the first floor.  As I 
made my way through the heavily shadowed hallway, rich in oak, 
mahogany, brass and cool marble, I noticed an open door just off 
the main foyer.  It had been closed each time I had passed it 
previously, and I could see clearly inside, the light from a 
small hallway nightlight providing just enough illumination. From 
where I stood, quietly, I could see that it was unoccupied.  I 
entered stealthily, sure that Margo's reaction to finding me here 
would not be positive.  
On the large leather chair I saw two coats that appeared to have 
been hastily thrown together, still holding the evening's chilled 
fresh air on them as I approached them. I assumed they belonged 
to Margo and her escort who now was doubtless about to enjoy the 
same dominant delights I had known last night.  Somehow, it had 
not occurred to me that a relationship of this nature would be  
less than monogamous..... 
As I looked to the far wall, I saw it covered with perhaps two 
dozen pictures, framed in silver and gold.  On closer inspection, 
I saw that they were all of Margo.  Or more accurately, Margo was 
in all the pictures, but was not alone. 
The pictures were of bodybuilding competitions, and depicted 
various women in bikinis flexing for the camera, in posedowns 
frantic, urgent and vigorous. In every one, there was Margo, 
taller by a head and bigger by a mile than all the other 
competitors.  Each one was followed by a smaller picture beneath 
it, of Margo, darkly tan as always, beaming a triumphant smile as 
she held a trophy of one type or another.   
As I followed the line of photographs, I began to notice a trend.  
The pictures were lined up chronologically, from left to right, 
and since the light had struck the far right end of the room,the 
rest being blocked by the half-open door, I had not seen the 
photos on the far left.  I went over to the door and opened it 
wide, the light reaching the dark corner, illuminating it.  I 
walked over to the earlier photos, curious to see what Margo 
looked like many years ago.... 
What struck me was how she had changed!   
The first pictures seemed, judging from hairstyle and the 
clothing of the judges who posed alongside her, to be dated in 
the seventies.  Even then, Margo was incredibly statuesque 
compared to the other girls onstage, and justifiably, she was 
invariably the winner: her physique very well developed! 
But she was so, well...normal looking.  Comparatively speaking, 
of course.  Her hair was a shade darker, still blonde, surely, 
but less pronouncedly so, and her physique contained none of the 
outrageously overdeveloped musculature she carried so 
magnificently well at present.  Instead, she was, well, normal.  
Athletic, defined.  Surely terrific.  But not the ultrawoman who 
was stalking new prey upstairs in her guest bedroom at this very 
moment. 
Could she have made that sort of transformation in just a 
relatively few years?  I had never really thought about it, but I 
had supposed that Margo had been born with a certain genetic 
supergift, and I had half-expected to find photos of an 
adolescent Margo, giant biceps and abundant breasts bursting 
through the blouse of her schoolgirl uniform, her tight plaid 
skirt barely reaching mid-thigh---"Sorry, ma'am, but that's the 
largest skirt we make.  Your daughter will just have to make do 
with it....", the school outfitter would shrug apologetically--- 
Margo would already be flirting with him with her eyes as she 
stood there in her micro-length skirt.... 
But there weren't any. 
I heard movement of the second floor again, and I headed for the 
hallway.  As I reached the darkened landing, I heard soft music 
coming from upstairs.  There wasn't any talking going on; and as 
I peered around the foot of the second-floor stairway, I saw that 
there was the same candlelight that she had used on me the night 
before.  I felt used! 
Slowly, being sure that I did not cause the floorboards to creak, 
I began a dangerous trek upstairs.  Halfway up, it occurred to me 
that my nudity compromised me somewhat should I be detected by 
her guest.  It left me in an undignified position.  But my pulse 
raced, and I had to see what she was doing, who she was with. 
I made it to the top of the stairs without being detected, and 
painstakingly inched my way to the doorway, crouching against the 
wall.  Finally, only when I felt it was safe, I peered into the 
room through the visible space presented by the half-open door.  
I made sure I was covered in shadow. 
The bathroom door opened inside, and Margo emerged.  She was clad 
in a soft, sheer and frilly babydoll nightgown, it's hem barely 
reaching below her waist.  She was barefoot, and her hair was 
worn down and loose.  Such a girlish attempt at demure and dainty 
attire after her defiant struttings in white leather hours ago 
gave an odd tableau-like feel to the proceedings.  I got the 
distinct impression that she was not alone. 
I was right.  From out of the shadows came a man every bit her 
equal in size and shape, but taller than even the statuesque 
Margo. 
She pranced over to him eagerly and girlishly, his arms going 
around her waist, lifting the flimsy nighty high over her taut 
behind.  She locked her own huge arms around his neck in an 
incongruously girlish fashion for her--they kissed, and 
presently, he led her over to the bed, Margo following docilely, 
where they lay side by side. 
Almost at once, Margo propped herself up and removed the man's 
briefs, releasing a penis that was of gargantuan proportions. 
 
"Oh, is that for me?", she whispered, as it tumbled out, talking 
to it as though it were some throbbing microphone, in a soft 
little Marilyn Monroe lisp, just before taking it in her mouth 
and sucking  it ardently.  Her head bobbed up and down, savoring 
the massive rod, making little gurgling sounds of satisfaction; 
her long hair fell wildly around her.  Slurping sounds filled the 
room, and I saw Margo's cruel mouth distort with the invasion of 
the giant penis into it, her saliva running down the huge shaft, 
as well as her own chin. She did not wipe it away. 
My new girlfriend, I realized with irony, was cheating on me. 
 
She stared with impassioned lust at him all the while, as if to 
show him how she was trying to please him.  Such behavior had 
never been demonstrated to me, not once, not for even a second; 
she had been all stern command and wicked sneer as she lay abed 
with me.  I had to look down to make sure that I too, possessed 
the equipment required for the act of love.  Surely, I did, 
although I admit as I felt my own shaft and compared it to the 
huge titanshaft on the bed---I came up short.  But it was there 
and it functioned; it just came in a handier and more economical 
size! 
 
Presently, he took over, pushing her under him and removing the 
small nightie from her body, exposing the banquet of her hard 
flesh, soft breasts, and warm, vise-like vagina.  Margo acquiesed 
quietly.  I was surprised to see how she let herself be 
controlled like this.  Surely, this was not the same women who 
was running roughshod on me! 
"Oh, yes, Tony, put it in me, baby, please", she urged, as the 
man began inserting the massive penis, it's head swollen with 
desire, up the willing pussy of the musclewoman. 
I watched it disappear into her vagina, inch after endless inch, 
with endless assurance and determination to find the darkest 
corners of her womb; pushing, until the tremendous organ had 
vanished entirely within her majestic pussydepths. The two giants 
screwed endlessly, shaking the bed so severely, I thought surely 
it would break beneath their amorous heavings.  Margo moaned and 
bellowed loudly, urging her lover on, thrilling as each long, 
slapping thrust rammed into her loins, her lubrications running 
freely over his penis, down her buttocks, and finally coalescing 
in a dark stain on the satin bedspread. 
"Oh, you're so big and hot, baby, you know how to make a girl cum 
so goooood", she effused, her words coming out slurred and 
guttural, heavy with lust and muffled by her wild mane of hair 
fallen across her face. Her massive breasts shook; her powerful 
arms locked around his back; her legs rode him as though she were 
a defiant cowgirl determined not to be thrown off a wild bull as 
it bucked; and Margo orgasmed again and again and again, her 
screams lasting through the night.  I watched the large penis 
compress as it slid into Margo's waiting, grasping pussy.  As he 
would plunge inside her, her vaginal muscles seemed to clench, to 
try and contain the mighty invader of her loins--unable to 
control something this size; it would slide out, aided by their 
mutual secretions, only to come down hard and fast and 
unforgiving, into her again... 
All this was taking place upon the bed where Margo had taken me; 
where she had shown me no mercy, had toyed with me and made it 
clear I existed for her pleasure alone. Now, in this man's arms, 
she had become girlishly submissive; even coquettish! 
It was more than I could bear--massive penis and hungry, gushing 
vagina in sexual battle, grasping, releasing, pummeling.  Hips 
danced a dark and wet bump and grind on the red satin, in 
candlelight. Their shadows threw large and ominous on the wall 
behind them, reflecting their wild shakes to and fro... 
Now and then, a guttural curse escaped from one or the other, a 
word that bespoke hatred but declared an attraction neither could 
deny or overcome. 
 
After an hour of observing this sexual apex, crouched in secret 
in the shadows just outside the bedroom, my control deserted me, 
and semen erupted from my penis in pulses, gushing.  I tried to 
keep silent and quiet, and I feared that I would be detected at 
the involuntarily misbehaviour of loins too tortured to withhold 
release. But they made no notice; for at that moment, they, too, 
were roaring in delirious orgasm once again; the room had gotten 
hot, steamy from active bodies in frenzied rushes of ecstacy. 
I hoped that at the very least, such ecstacy would soften her 
demeanor towards me; lighten her attitude, and drop the guard she 
so obviously had raised and locked like heartless steel gates of 
muscle before me. But I was to be proved wrong. Very wrong. 
Finally, after cleaning up with the only utensil open to me--my 
hands--and when It seemed they could not continue any longer, I 
beat a hasty retreat to the basement.  I left the lover to find 
their own post-coital bliss. 
It took me a long time to fall asleep, exhaustion finally 
claiming me. 
 
I awoke in an empty house again.  Immediately, I ran through the 
dark house to survey the hallway where I had lost control last 
night.  I was relieved to see that there were no tell-tall signs. 
I cleaned whatever may have been left with a damp cloth. I was 
glad the guy--whoever he was--was gone.  I really did not want to 
be seen by anybody in this condition except for Margo herself.  I 
began going about my morning ablutions when I heard the engine 
roar once again. 
I was in the bathroom shaving, the irony of the act occurring to 
me in light of what Margo had done to me yesterday.  I heard her 
come up the stairs. 
I turned away from the sink to see Margo in her white leather 
outfit still, hair tied into a big bun above her head. And, boy 
did she look angry.... 
"Slave, you disobeyed me last night, didn't you?", she hissed. 
I told her that I did not understand. 
She stood there, as though trying to control her anger, her huge 
muscularity shaking with the attempt. I wiped the foam from my 
chin quickly, turning half-shaven to Her Mightiness. 
"You were watching, weren't you?  WEREN'T YOU!", she screamed, 
muscle flexing as she screamed; she was tense and furious. 
I was sure I had not made a sound, but she knew the truth.  I did 
not know which I feared more, telling a lie or telling her what 
she already knew. ......  
"Please forgive me, ma'am," I offered weakly.  "I thought that 
you might need me during the night, and..." 
"What the hell would I need you for, you pathetic little mouse? I 
had a man with me.  A real man.  Maybe I should have called you 
into the room, so you could have learned close-up what one can 
do", she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.  "I'll bet 
your little cock got all hard just watching us, didn't it? DIDN'T 
IT?" 
 "Yes, ma'am, it did.  Please ma'am, I am sorry...", I offered, 
backing away slowly... 
Margo slowly undid the thick white leather belt from her outfit. 
Doubling it in her powerful arms, she snapped it several times. 
"Get on the bed.", she ordered. 
I obeyed, and she attacked, pushing my head down into the still- 
damp spot where her loins had gushed the night before.  I could 
smell the fragrant scent that still remained on the sheets. She 
pulled my buttocks up in the air, spreading my legs wide.  I 
trembled. 
At first she used the belt, smacking my behind relentlessly, the 
crack of the leather filling the room, my flesh exploding with  
pain as blow after blow hit my bottom; punishment for a 
disobedient slave... 
Later, when the nerves, numbed, felt little of the punishment 
they were getting, she used her hand.  Cracking mercilessly, she 
grunted her anger.  My flesh sent small explosions off in my 
mind, and in the misty state that my mind had retreated to in 
refuge from the punishment, I almost thought I saw the air around 
us, filled with explosions like fireworks in the night sky... 
"Little nothing slave, how dare you!  HOW DARE YOU!", she would 
yell, punctuating each word with a stinging slap. 
Tears of pain filled my eyes. 
 
I thought I heard her finally leave the room, but did not dare to 
move, fearing such an action, upon her discovery, would only 
anger her further.  I remained that way for some minutes, naked 
behind throbbing with pain, too scared to move. 
My legs were cramping from my enforced position, inner thighs, 
themselves the recipient of some of the blows, aching from the 
strain of the position. 
Margo came in.  I could not see her, my face still buried in the 
damp stain.  But I heard her move about the room. 
Curtains were pulled back, blinds lifted, windows opened. 
I felt the hot humid air that had descended on the city so early 
and stayed, shroudlike, and damp, upon it, rush into the room.  
Margo's voice came from behind me. 
"I want the windows open so anyone around the grounds can hear 
you scream, boy. You can move now, slave." 
I raised my head, and found Margo, now fully, magnificently 
undressed,  rearranging the pillows of the bed.  She ordered me 
to lay down, putting one of the thickest pillows under my sore 
rear.  I thanked her for the comfort, but she only shook her 
head, and muttered, "We'll see". 
She reached down to the floor, her back to me.  I closed my eyes, 
trying to control my breathing, hoping against hope that the 
giant Amazon's punishment would not be too severe. 
Margo now moved on top of me, her hands going behind my knees, 
pushing them back to my head and holding them there.  My weight 
shifted easily on the plush, thick pillow, my center of gravity 
pushed back, towards me. At just that moment, the sun broke 
through the light cloud cover that had cloaked it, and a pool of 
very bright sunlight struck the bed, bathing my exposed nether 
regions in it's warmth.  Margo, kneeling over me, blocked out any 
further encroachment of the golden morning light, it's halo 
thrown around her, giving her the appearance of an enormous 
avenging female angel of muscle, full of wrath, huge, 
stalking.... 
"Okay, muscleslave, here comes punishment!", she said, with 
matter-of-fact satisfaction. 
I tried to yell, to beg to her to reconsider. I even tried 
breaking free of her iron grasp; an attempt doomed to failure.  
But I saw what was coming and braced to fight it.  It was a fight 
that lasted only a second, ending with my immediate surrender 
beneath her.   
The shaft pushed into me, bound to Margo's powerful hips. I felt 
it invade me, and my body tried to clasp it, attempting to get 
hold and control whatever this foreign invader was; but it was no 
use.  Margo rammed the slick rubbery member in and out of me 
roughly, with slow assurance, anger rising within me at myself, 
at my body's inability to fight, cursing it's too eager 
accommodation of this tool of her punishment, her powerful body 
overwhelming me completely.  I looked into her fierce eyes, 
muscles of her upper body flexing with the effort of holding my 
legs.  She seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.   
I tried to resist this most flagrant invasion of my body, but her 
strength simply silenced any protestations; the thick muscles of 
her body being put to use now, rendering me helpless under them. 
I began my slow surrender to her, surrendering the ego so common 
to my gender, offering it to this superior specimen-- A Woman 
Triumphant. 
Gradually as she continued thrusting, vast muscularity peaking 
everywhere, my last private refuge, that unchartered vault in my 
own subconscious that had yet been untouched even by this 
superhuman specimen of womanhood, began to melt.  I tried to 
maintain a hold on myself, but even as I struggled, I felt a 
fervent wave of subservience begin to overtake me now, emotions 
reeling out of me, laid bare and as yet unexplored. And so I 
submitted completely now, all resistance falling, until I found 
myself yearning, on each withdrawal, for Margo to return to 
search my inmost private rooms, kicking, not knocking, at the 
doors, which fell open to her at once, completely. She was not 
only demanding that I submit--she was demanding that I enjoy it.  
 
 
"Please, M'lady Muscle, " I pleaded, taken far out of my own 
consciousness now, lost in idolatry for this force of nature 
named Margo. My cry, as I lay there twisted and contorted by her 
power-packed arms, was half a cry for mercy, to release me; and 
half a cry for more...I hated what she was doing to me, 
contorting my face with discomfort.  And yet... 
Margo began thrusting even harder now, ramming the thin slippery 
shaft into me with stabs of her powerful hips; near-acts of 
violence in themselves as my head snapped back with the force of 
her lunges. She let go of my legs now and lay on top of me; her 
angle of penetration changed, and I felt strange new pleasures, 
her hands going to my blistering buttocks; she held them tight in 
each of her hands, the long fingernails digging into the flesh.  
It should have hurt, but I did not feel it.  I was concentrating 
only on Margo and what she was doing to me, what she was 
introducing me to with each powerful thrust of her body.  Her 
breasts rubbed up and down against my face as she lay atop of me 
now, and a moan, long and low and quivering, escaped me, though I 
myself was not aware of it.  My lower legs wrapped around her 
muscular trim waistline, across the broad powerful back, enjoying 
this added sensation of her thick back, flesh warm beneath my 
calves, locking on her, urgently seeking a foot hold on which to 
steady myself as I began to respond to her thrusts, wanting to 
give her more of what I felt her taking; taking not only now, as 
she commanded my very soul for her own pleasure; but truthfully, 
since I had first seen her two days ago on a hot beach in the 
strong mid-day sun, surrounded by her inferiors, who looked upon 
her with awe. 
"Men", she rasped in contempt.  "Weaklings.  Little toys and 
silly boys.  You need a big hot fuckin' slab of woman", she said 
as she made the dark veined bowling ball dance on her arm, "to 
keep you in your place and give you a good spanking when you step 
out of line.  Keepin' your little dicks in your pants until we're 
damn good and ready to look at 'em...Havin' all the men we want, 
and you can't do a damn thing about it, huh?  Maybe we'll even 
make you watch us get fucked and have you clean up after us, 
right, slave?  Anything we say..." 
 
This was a moment that seemed at first too bizarre to conjure, 
but now, as she growled her satisfaction as she heard my moans, 
it all seemed to be clear now, my destiny manifest, beneath her. 
She slowed her movements now, and held herself far above me, 
nearly withdrawn.   
"Does my slave like his punishment? she asked.  I did not answer, 
unable to find words, the reality of her vocalization bringing me 
back now.   
"No? I guess not.  Oh, well, better stop then..." 
My legs tried to hold her in place.  If she had wanted, she could 
have easily broken my hold... 
"So, he wants more, huh?" 
I nodded, cheeks burning, looking away from those cold, blue- 
laser eyes. 
I wanted only to bring a wicked sneering curling smile to that 
cruel, chiseled face. I wanted her to be pleased with her slave.  
Her muscleslave.  
She re-entered me, and as she did, began to talk. 
"Does he like it?" 
"Yes," I said, emotionally, near tears with embarrassment and 
excitement, humiliation and ecstacy. And pain. 
"Beg", she ordered, pulling out.  She thrusted hard again. 
"BEG!", she ordered, beginning another withdrawal. 
"Please fuck me, m'lady.  Please", I said, submitting to the hard 
gaze of her eyes. 
She started a steady pump, gradually picking up speed, hard, 
smooth, a gyrating motion in her hips catching something I didn't 
know I had, in just the right place every now and then, and 
bringing me to a scream of urging, pleading, needing delight... 
The words came now, as though from someone else. 
"Oh, Ma'am, fuck me, please fuck me harder and harder, take it 
from me, make me come, own me, have me...", I shouted, unashamed 
of using words now that, hitherto, would have been unthinkable. 
"You're so big and strong, ma'am.  I'm so weak, take me, please, 
with your big hard muscles, so big...Oh, M'Lady, you own me!", I 
gasped, accentuating the words with hard squeezing pleading 
grasps and gropes at her huge physique, my body knocked about by 
the force of her thrusts, held in my place only by her strength 
and weight; as someone lost at sea will cling to a life 
preserver; my voice shaking, too, urgent, becoming uncontrollably 
louder as she brought me closer and closer to climax now, not 
caring for the moment who heard me through the open windows; my 
very being overrun by her, getting lost in fervent delight, lost 
in an emotional gusher of quivering worship.... 
Margo looked right at me, in control completely once again. 
"My little muscleslave likes to be taken by his queen like this, 
doesn't he? " she whispered, barely audible.  "Does he like it 
hard?"!" 
I nodded, my face full of animal craving for her. She now dug 
furiously and deeply into me again. She seemed to enjoy the 
simple action of conquering me; reducing me to her puppet; 
responding to her stimuli, as she toyed with my body... 
Part of me wished never to suffer this again; to undergo this 
removal of my self-image; I wanted to have my dignity returned 
and this moment erased forever.  But another part of me, the part 
that Margo already owned, wanted her to take more, and more... 
I begged, words coming now only in fits, intermittently, the air 
punctuated by the sound of her hard flesh slapping roughly 
against my own.  Now and then, she would accentuate this 
treatment, with a hard slap across my numbed backside.  It only 
added to my obsession, my infatuation, fueling my ecstacy, my 
vision becoming blurred with tears that sprung from an emotional 
pool somewhere deep within me; a pool she had seen and ever-so- 
casually, decided to swim in for her own amusement... 
I felt all control leave me, the ecstacy she had decided to 
bestow upon her chosen slave now the solitary sensation I could 
know.  She grasped my penis in her hand and shook it, and my 
sphincter spasmed; I felt an odd, unidentifiable clenching of my 
depths, and a wave of rapture, white-hot and fury-laden, roared 
through me.  My penis lost control, too, gushing in powerful 
streams, as semen shot upwards upon my chest, my face.  But I did 
not try to remove it now, too paralyzed with the delirious bliss 
she had visited upon me even as she had stripped me soul.  My 
shouts, loud and intelligible only to those who had known the 
bliss they caused, turned now to softer cries; my cries to 
murmurs; and finally, they too, receded, reduced to whimpers and 
whispers of reverence to my Queen. 
Margo lay there upon me, surveying her conquest.  My eyes were 
closed, and I lay below her, submissively, shattered. 
"Thank you, M'lady Muscle, I said, running my hand along a 
sharply-defined hunk of her deltoid, hands trembling as much with 
shock as the aftermath of so shattering a climax. 
She surveyed the aftermath of her handiwork, beneath her, and was 
amused at what she saw.   
"That was supposed to be a punishment, slave, but since you 
seemed to enjoy it so much, maybe for now on it will be a reward, 
for especially good behavior", she acknowledged.  She began her 
withdrawal from me.  I pouted into those hard eyes, hoping to 
perhaps soften them just a bit, locking my legs tightly around 
hers in an attempt to prolong my punishment, allow me to explore 
that great and cruel body, suckle her breasts, slide my own penis 
within her... 
"No, no, please?", I implored her.  "More, please, ma'am? Can we 
make love again, ma'am? You know, like we did before?" 
She shook her head, suddenly looking wise and grave, as though 
whatever she were next to do affected the fate of the world. 
"Why, little slave?  Didn't you enjoy this kind of intercourse? 
Jusging from the mess all over you, you surely seemed to.  But, 
your big strong muscle queen can't spend the whole day punishing 
her little slave, can she?", she soothed, condescendingly. 
 She now withdrew, causing me another flash of involuntary 
pleasure, my breath intaking sharply.  The muscles did not 
contract immediately, and Margo looked with amusement at the 
battered orifice; a weary token of her power, her casual command.  
She inserted a finger inside, and found my prostate immediately, 
massaging it in a way that brought me to quick orgasm once again. 
Finally, when she saw I was too spent to respond any further, she 
got up from the bed quickly, with purpose, as though these 
moments had interrupted her plans for the day. 
 
"Come on, we have to go out." She said, at last,. "You have an 
appointment at the doctor." 
"The doctor, ma'am?", I asked, as she handed me a cloth to wipe 
the semen from my body. 
"Of course.  We're going to get you fixed today, slaveboy.  Just 
the way your big M'Lady Muscle wants you....." 
 
 
She had ordered me to shower, and had refused to answer any 
questions I had made on the spot, and  I cleaned myself off under 
the streaming warm water. Hungover with the ecstatic thrills she 
had bestowed upon me, and careful to prevent the needle-like 
drill of the spray to strike my battered buttocks, I knew 
nevertheless that I could not allow this---not this! 
I thought of running again.  I opened the door of the shower, 
grabbing a towel hastily.  If this was all I would leave with, 
then so be it.  I ran through the misty bathroom, and ran out 
into the hall, the air of that dark and mysterious place suddenly 
cool against my wet skin.  I ran down the long stairway, creating 
tiny puddles as I hustled to escape my captivity; reluctantly, 
perhaps; but profoundly necessary, in spite of the startling 
bliss she had taught me.  It was one of the rare moments when my 
mind and body---released from the furious tension that her very 
presence created in my body, the longing and awed cravings for 
her hard body on mine receding---could feel the slow erasing of 
my very being taking place; as though Margo had simply decided to 
overwrite my own personality, "recreating" a slave, a toy, a 
plaything to do her bidding.... 
Such was my hurry that I lost my footing, slipping on the last 
few steps as they wound down onto the first floor landing.  I 
fell with a muffled thud on a thick throw rug. 
Margo stood above me, nearly seven feet of towering unforgiving 
muscle and cool sex, curiously looking down at her slave as he 
lay sprawled out at her feet. 
She wore spike-heeled ankle-boots, white, that set off the deep 
tan of her legs; the first things I saw as I lay on my side on 
the carpet.  They matched the tiny string bikini she had quickly 
donned, it's top, barely containing her enormous bust, so tiny 
that her wide areolae peeked around it's thin edges. Indeed, when 
I look back I realize that everything she wore seemed to fit her 
this way; just barely, too small to contain her enormous bodily 
package; massively muscled and curvaceously cut, I wasn't sure if 
the undersized look of her clothing was accidental or a 
calculated effect that Margo consciously tried to achieve.  If it 
was the latter, it was a smashing success... 
A striped red and white beach bag was already packed next to her, 
on the floor.  If I were to make an escape, it would have to be 
on the way, in transit.  I thought I might outrun her as we left 
the house, but did not want to risk the attempt, even in the 
towering heels she was wearing. 
"Well, you sure seem to be in a hurry, slavie", she laughed, as 
she handed me a brief black g-string, a small pouch hanging from 
a small black elastic.  At least, no one can accuse you of not 
knowing your place.... 
"These are for you, mouse.  Don't get the wrong idea; you're 
still naked at all times around this house.  But for the beach, 
well, we can't break the law, can we?", she chuckled, snapping 
the small string that held the two tiny triangles that passed for 
her bikini top together. 
I put the meager cloth on, and Margo stepped back, hands on hips, 
surveying the sight. 
"Not bad, slaveboy.  Not bad, but turn around". 
As I did, an amused gasp came from her chest. 
"Hey, looks like you've been a bad boy.", was all she said as she 
reviewed her handiwork.  "Turn around again." 
As I did, she reached into the closet and produced a black 
motorcycle jacket, adorned with chains, that sported her name on 
the back, in white satin. 
"Nice coat, huh?", she asked, holding it for me to see, front and 
back. 
"Yes, ma'am". 
"Got it from some fans when I used to compete.  I was Ms. Flex 
America for three years running...They really loved me, you know. 
Crazy bunch.  Worshipped the ground I walked on, too." she said, 
smiling and shaking her head, looking off into the distance.  But 
she snapped back to the present now, coolly in charge once again, 
smiling. 
"But who needs them, my little slave, when I have you, right?", 
she asked, as she reached behind her to pull the two 
theatrically-styled braids loose from her head, and let them fall 
down her back now, two long perfect shafts of gold.  Her hands 
were busy back there for a moment, as she wove them together into 
one long majestic weave, reaching down to her waist. 
"Yes, ma'am.", I answered, as I watched her. "I'm all yours.  And 
ma'am?" 
She arched an eyebrow, questioningly."Hmmm?", she said, 
melodically, as she threw on the heavy-looking jacket. 
"Thank you for,ah,...I mean, the, uh...." 
She half-zippered the black leather coat, it's rich scent wafting 
through the room.  She looked down to me, eyes dancing behind 
their hard facade, huge globes of her nearly-bare brown bosom 
revealed. 
She drew very close, so close that I actually stood inside the 
black forbidding coat with her, the heavy scent of leather 
filling my senses, overpowering even Margo's own musky natural 
odor. 
"For the spanking?  Or the ass-fucking?", she asked haughtily, 
putting her large but still feminine hands on my thin shoulders. 
"For both, ma'am.  Thank you." 
Inside the coat, I felt a great heat radiating from Margo's hard 
as rock body, her huge breasts the only softness anywhere, as 
though she had designed it just that way.  I extended my hands, 
nearly chest-high as they reached to her, and they were met by 
the hard plain of her stomach, as unforgiving and hard as a plain 
of rock.  We exchanged a glance; a moment of devotion between 
slave and empress; for that is what she seemed to be.  No mere 
mistress who lurked in shadows; but an elemental force of nature 
who transformed one's very point of reference to the world with a 
touch of her powerful hand.   
And I knelt down in front of her, and gently kissed the white 
leather boot of the woman who had ravaged me heartlessly, smiling 
as she did.  
I looked up at the hard cruelty of those crisp blue-ocean eyes. 
"You're quite welcome, my adoring little weakling. Just remember, 
I can make your life a heaven or a hell, depending upon how good 
a little slaveboy you are.... Now get up.  We have things to do 
and places to go." 
Any doubts that may have been racing through my mind as I had 
stood in the shower were now gone, faded into ghosts, as her hand 
now pulled me up to her, and she kissed me long and hard with her 
open mouth.... 
 
FROM                   THE AMAZONS ARENA BBS    702-243-7723