Woodland Wrestle, Wendy and Graham 
By Bbuy030
These events took place one hot summer's weekend in the mid-sixties. 
Update: 27/09/1997 to misc2
     Wendy and Graham had been courting for nearly four months now.  He
was completely infatuated by her.  The trouble was that this infatuation
was leading to obsession.  He was becoming possessive, hated her even
talking to another boy, even some girls.  Unknown to him, she had spoken
to a neighbor, an older of friend of hers, about the situation and had
received some advice.  The advice that she received would later benefit
her greatly as she got to know other boys, and later, men.
     As the summer had come, so she and Graham had taken to walking in the
woods.  It covered a vast area, and they rarely met anyone else as they
searched for a good place to sit, talk, kiss and cuddle.
     She ha sought her friend Anne's advice about the way Graham was.  She
thought a lot of him, but hated some of his ways his possessiveness more
than anything else.  Today, she hoped to follow Anne's advice, and do
something about Graham's manner.  If it failed, then she knew that Anne
was right and she would eventually have to tell him to leave her alone.
     It was a beautiful day, perhaps a little on the hot side for walking,
but that never deterred them.  They had found a cosy little spot the week
before, a clearing completely surrounded by trees, with only one way in.
They were sure that nobody would ever see them there.
     Graham wore jeans and T-shirt, his usual attire, and Wendy wore a
loose fitting dress that came to just above the knees.  She also wore high
heeled shoes, not the best thing for walking, her parents had always told
her.  Graham liked the way she dressed, though, and always insisted that
she wear stockings also, although she couldn't understand why in this hot
weather.
     They came to the clearing and sat down; he put his arm around her. He
pulled her close and kissed her.  They lay down, arms round each other.
     "Do you really love me?" she asked him then.
     "Of course I do.  What a silly question."
     "Would you love me, no matter what?"
     "What do you mean?  What have you been up to?  There's not someone
else, is there?"
     "No, of course there's not."  He was always on the defensive, she
thought.  Well, let's see how he defends himself against what I have to
throw at him.
     Gently forcing him onto his back, still kissing him, she eased
herself into a position lying on top of him.  She took his face in her
hands.  He opened his eyes, looked at her, then closed them again.  His
hands wandered down to the back of her dress, then he was running them up
her thighs.
     She stopped kissing him.  "Do you like to feel my legs?" she asked.
     "I like every part of you."
     She reached down and took his wrists in her hands, bringing them up
above his head.  "I want to dominate you.  What do you say about that?"
     "How do you mean?"
     "I'll show you."  With that, she brought up her knees so that she was
sitting astride him.  "How do you like that?"
     "Okay, I suppose."
     That was a weak response, she thought, but said, "That's just a
start."
     She momentarily released her grip on his wrists and pulled her dress
up round her waist.  Then, taking his wrists and again pinning his arms
above his head, she slowly slid forward.  He looked transfixed, as her
creamy thighs and knickered crotch moved closer.  Her crotch now pressed
against his chin, and she closed her thighs in around his ears, tightly
clamping them around his face.
     He wasn't sure about this.  He felt somehow stupid.  A girl shouldn't
dominate a man, he thought.  But here she was, pinning in the grass in the
woods.
     "How do you like it now?"
     "I'm not sure."
     "Well, you'd better get to like it, because from now on, you're going
to do what I tell you, and that includes submitting to me.  Do you
understand that?"
     He had never heard her speak this way before, and it surprised him.
He tried to get up, but her weight kept him pinned.  She was a couple of
inches shorter than him, and much lighter, but she had him under control
here.
     "What is it you want?" he asked her.
     "I want you to be my slave.  I want to dominate you, I want you
completely at my mercy, like you are now."
     Again he tried to move, but couldn't.
     "Are you going to let me up?"
     "I will eventually, when I feel like it.  But I want you to submit to
me first."
     "No way!"
     "Okay, then I'll stay here."
     She kept him there for around thirty minutes before she slid to one
side.
     "I knew you'd soon get fed up," he said.
     "Oh I'm not fed up.  I'm just taking a breather.  My legs ache a
little, and I want you to rub them for me.  Do it!"
     He couldn't believe that she was talking to him like this, but he
said, "whereabouts shall I rub?"
     "That's a good boy.  All over, please."
     He sat up and rubbed her legs until she told him that he'd done
enough.  Then, sliding closer to him, she lifted her legs and wrapped them
around his neck, scissoring him.  Taking him by the hair, she pulled his
face into her crotch and brought her legs up so that they were now wrapped
around his face.  He lay on his side in this most erotic of scissor holds
and tried to prise her legs apart.  She took his wrists and held them,
tightening her grip as she did so.
     "How do you feel?" she asked.
     "All right," she heard him mumble.
     She tired of this after a few minutes and released him.  He lay
there, wondering what would happen next.  She slid round to face his feet,
her legs once again wrapped around his head.  This time she held him in an
even more erotic hold, the "69" scissor.  He felt her warm thighs
squeezing the sides of his face.  His mouth was in contact with her
crotch, and she held him firmly in her grip.
     "Submit to me.  Be my slave."
     He couldn't do this, submit to her.  His manhood would be in
question. She heard his mumbled 'no.'
     "You'll be my slave by the time we leave here today."
     She was sure of this.  He was weakening.  She knew that she was
beginning to control him with her thighs.  His attempts at escape were
limited and very feeble, as if he were only making token attempts to
escape.  She smile to herself - Anne had been right when she said that
most men could be dominated.
     She put her hand into the waistband of his jeans, forcing it under
his belt.  She felt him stiffen.  "I've got you now," she thought.
     She undid his belt and jeans and rubbed her hand up and down around
his private area.  From between her thighs she thought she heard him moan.
     She pulled down his jeans and underpants, exposing his privates, and
started working on him again.  Satisfied that she had him near the
breaking point, she stopped and released him from the hold.
     He was disappointed, she could sense that.  He lay on his back, and
she swiftly climbed astride him again.  Then she was on his chest, her
thighs closing in around his face, squeezing, squashing.  She pinned his
arms above his head again.
     "Submit to me."
     "No."
     She opened her thighs slightly, then closed them again, time after
time.  He would be hers, she knew.
     "Submit to me?"
     No," he said again.
     For a full twenty minutes she worked on his face with her thighs, in
and out.
     Slowly she edged further forward until she covered his face with her
crotch.  Gripping the sides of his face tightly, she reached back behind
her and took hold of his now erect penis.
     "Submit to me?"
     "No," he groaned.
     Working her hand slowly up and down, she brought him to the point of
no return.
     "Submit to me?"
     "Yes!"
     Now she had him, and brought him to an explosion of satisfaction as
she rode his face.
     She climbed down from him and watched as he wiped himself down with
his handkerchief.
     "I hope you're not going to use that now!"
     He smiled at what she had said.
     "Now on your back again," she said when he had finished.
     "What?"
     "I said on your back again!"
     Sheepishly he lay back, wondering what would happen now.
     "Now," she said as she once more straddled his face, "it's my turn."
     He lay on his back, obeying every word as she told him to use his
tongue, when to go faster, when to slow down.  His face felt flushed as
her wonderful thighs controlled him, crushed him into submission.
     Even after it was over, she wanted to show her dominance and kept him
pinned there for what seemed like ages.  She scissored him, she straddled
him, she rode his face.  Then, before they left for home, she wanted to
try one more thing.  She stripped him completely, tied each wrist then his
ankles with stockings that she had brought with her, and tied his wrists
as far apart as possible to two bushes.  She couldn't tie him spread-eagled
as she'd wished, so she tied his ankles together.
     Now, hitching up her dress yet again, she straddled his head, her
thighs tightly clamped about his face, her crotch pressed against his
chin. She then set about him again, her hands working expertly on his once
again erect penis.
     "I want you to say it again," she said as he neared climax.  "I want
you to say that you submit to me, that you'll be my slave."
     "I submit to you and I'll be your slave."
     "Always?"
     "Yes."
     For Graham, that was just the beginning of a lifetime of domination
by women.  For Wendy it was the start of her life as a dominatrix.
     And so to Iris and Jean, who had seen them come into the woods and
who had followed them, it gave ideas that the following day they would put
to use...

     "Did you see what she did to him?" Jean asked Iris in excitement.
     "Of course I did.  I was with you, remember?" came the retort.
     "That made me feel horny," Jean said.  "I'd like to try that."
     "Who would you do it to?"
     "I don't know.  Anyone would do."
     "Perhaps we could find a couple of victims, entice them into the
woods and give them a working over," Iris suggested sarcastically.  The
two had been watching Wendy dominating Graham for nearly three hours,
during which time they hadn't dared to move in case they had been spotted.
Now Iris was hungry and thirsty.
     "That's a good idea," came Jean's response.  "Who do we know that we
could hold off?  We could blackmail them into coming with us, then give
them the works."
     "Don't be silly.  How could we do that?  We don't know anyone that
would fall for that around where we live."
     "Yes we do," retorted Jean.  "What about that silly Christopher that
lives just along the road to you?"  Christopher was a mild mannered, timid
boy of around 18, who was constantly the focus of verbal attack from boys
and girls alike.
     Iris thought it over.  "Who would we get him into the woods?" she
asked.
     Jean had a ready answer.  "He's so stupid, he'll fall for anything.
All we have to do is tell him that we've got something to show him, a
secret or something.  Something that he mustn't discuss with anyone else."
     Jean had a point, Iris thought.  If they could get Christopher there
on some pretext, they could really go to town on him.  He was so timid
that if they told him to keep quiet afterwards, he would do as he was
told.
     "How do we get to ask him, though?"
     "Easy.  He goes to get the papers for his parents early in the
morning.  We could be there as he leaves the house."
     Iris thought that this was quite feasible.  The more she thought
about it, the better the idea seemed.  "Okay," she said.  "I'll see you in
the morning around 8:30."

     Christopher had always been an early bird.  A scholarly type, he
slept only when he was tired, and as soon as he woke in the morning, he
was up. That Sunday morning, when he awoke, he had absolutely no idea that
he would grow up so quickly that day.  He left the house and started
towards the newsagent's shop.  Every Sunday his father read the Sunday
Pictorial, and he set out as usual, as he had done for the past three
years, to collect the newspaper.
     "Hello Christopher, where are you off to?"  It was a girl's voice. He
looked round to see Iris and Jean behind him.
     "I'm just getting Dad's paper," came the reply.
     "Christopher, how would you like to see something really interesting?
Something that nobody has ever seen before."
     "What's that?"
     "I can't tell you.  It's hard to explain, but if you meet us about an
hour later, and come with us, we'll show you.  Honest, you've never seen
anything like it."
     "Is this some sort of joke?"
     "No, it's not.  How could you think that of us?"
     "I'm sorry," Christopher said, "but people are always taking the
micky out of me, and I wanted to be sure."  He was falling for it, hook,
line and sinker, thought Iris.
     "One thing, though," Jean informed him, "don't say where you're going
or who you're going with."
     "All right," he said, though until he met them he had no idea o where
they were going.
     They made arrangements to meet two hours later just down the road to
the woods entrance.  On the walk through the woods Christopher became very
curious as to where they were going.  "Just wait and see," was all her
reply he got from the girls.
     Finally they reached the clearing where the girls had watched Wendy
dominate Graham the previous day.  They never gave a thought to the idea
that the couple would be back that day, but in truth had they done so they
would not have cared.  All they cared about now were the events that were
to come.
     "Sit down, Christopher," Iris instructed him.  He sat.  The two girls
stood there, looking down at him.  They were dressed in short summer
dresses, white ankle socks that made them look like schoolgirls, but were
fashionable, and plimsolls - not the sort of clothes one wore for an
adventure, he thought.
     "Lie down, Christopher," Iris told him.  He didn't argue.  He had no
idea why he was doing it, but if that's what they wanted him to do, then
so be it.
     Jean shook her head.  "It's so easy," she said.
     "What is?" said Christopher, sitting up.
     Jean walked the couple of feet to where he was sitting.  She pushed
him back down with her foot.  "You were told to lie down!"
     She now stood astride him as he lay there looking up at her.  Without
warning she dropped down to settle herself astride his stomach.  He had no
idea what to do.  He didn't want to upset them, or they might not show him
whatever it was they had to show him, so he just lay there quietly.
     "Have you ever wrestled with a girl?" Jean asked him.
     "No, I've never wrestled with anyone," came the stammered reply.
     "Then it's about time you did.  You can wrestle with us.  If you win,
you'll get to see the thing we told you about.  If not, maybe you'll still
get to see it."
     Christopher had no idea how to wrestle, though he had seen boys and
girls at school fighting between themselves.  But he ha to try, or he
might miss out on the secret.
     He could feel Jean's weight on his stomach, and where her skirt rode
up he could see her tanned thighs.  He was the town wimp (or so he had
been told), and these were two healthy, fit girls, bigger than he was, and
he was outnumbered.
     "Okay, what do I do?" he said.
     "For a start, you try to get me off," said Jean.
     Christopher bucked, but could not shift the girl.
     "Well, it gets worse," she said as she moved forward to seat herself
upon his chest.  He tried harder to throw her, but to no avail.  Moreover
she was now high up on his chest, with her crotch pressed against his
chin, her thighs tight about his face.  He felt a hot flush as she kept
him pinned there between those thighs.  She also had his arms pinned above
his head, and he could not move at all.
     She looked down at the pitiful face trapped between her tanned
thighs. "Come on, you're not even trying to escape," she taunted him.
     Iris, who until now had just been a spectator, now joined in.  She
dropped her weight down astride Christopher's stomach.  He was now pinned
by both of them.
     "What, do you like it down there?  You're not trying very hard to
escape!" came a further taunt from Jean.  But despite his struggles, he
could not escape.  After around fifteen minutes Jean climbed from him,
only to be replaced by Iris.  Once again he was treated to a view of
tanned thighs and white knickers as the girl rode him.
     "This isn't very exciting," Iris said, as she climbed from him.
"Let's do something to make it more interesting."
     Christopher had no choice but to agree with whatever they suggested.
He knew that he could not escape, they would soon catch him.  What was
more, he was now beginning to realize that the whole thing was a trick to
get him here.
     "I know.  Let's play forfeits.  If we can keep him pinned down for
five minutes, he gets to lose an item of clothing.  If he manages to stay
on his feet for five minutes, we get to lose it."
     Deep down, Christopher knew that he would be the lose, but whatever
anyone said about him, he was no coward.  So he agreed.  They charged him
together, and he had no chance.  He ended up with Iris' long legs wrapped
around his neck in a head scissor, which she kept up for the designated
five minutes, and he lost a shoe.
     The next fall saw them both on top of him again, wit Iris in front on
his chest, her thighs now adding to his discomfort as they clamped tightly
about his face.  He lost another shoe.
     A "69" scissor by Jean came next, with Iris holding his wrists to
ensue that he could not escape.  This time he lost a sock.
     A very humiliating face-straddle, the first he had ever encountered,
came next.  Iris was the perpetrator, as she pinned his arms above his
head.  To add insult to injury Jean straddled him also.  Another sock
lost.
     He hardly had time to get over the previous pin before Jean was upon
him again.  This time she straddled his head, with her thighs tightly
clamped about his face again.  This time he lost his shirt.  He was
beginning to get worried.  Apart from his vest, he now had only his
trousers and underpants left.  Three more pins and he would be naked!
     Five minutes later, after a "69" scissor by Jean, he lost his vest.
     It was another face-straddle that brought about the loss of his
trousers.  He tried hard to keep on his feet, but Iris climbed up on him
and wrapped her legs around his waist.  Jean got hold of him round the
legs, and he fell to the grass with Iris astride him.  Quickly she moved
up onto his chest, then with an equally swift movement straddled his face.
With Jean upon him also, he lost his trousers.
     The girls had decided earlier to really frustrate him before removing
the last garment, and this they did.  He was taken to the grass on a
number of occasions, but before the five minutes were up he was released.
He was pinned and scissored by both of them, one at a time and dually.
After an hour of playing with him, he now lay on the grass, totally beaten
as Jean sat on his chest.  She stood up now and removed her dress.  He
noticed that Iris had also done this.  As Jean dropped down upon him
again, Iris removed his underpants.
     Jean's thighs closed in around his face once again.  "You're beaten,"
she informed him.  He knew that this was so.  He felt Iris mound him also.
Jean took him by the wrists and pinned his arms above his head.
     "You're ours now, you're our slave.  Submit to us."
     "What are you going to do to me?"
     Something that needed doing a long time ago," he heard Iris say.
     "I think you like it down there, don't you?" Jean said to him.
     He didn't answer.
     This girl, with her tanned body and wearing just bra, panties and
ankle socks, was in control of him.  She rode him, she was dominating him.
Nobody had ever done that to him before.
     "Do something for me," she said.
     "What's that?" he replied.
     "I think you know," she said as she moved forward to seat herself
astride his face.
     He had the further indignity of Iris repeating the procedure after
that.  She taunted him even more.  Her powerful thighs held him prisoner
for longer than Jean had done.  Form time to time she lifted herself up
from his face to allow him air, but she kept him under control. He did as
he was told to do.  He was their property now, and would do as they told
him.  His frustration was brought to check, however.  As Jean again rode
his face, Iris straddled his thighs and brought him to a climax such as he
had never known.
     They spent nearly all day there, none of them worrying about food or
drink.  Christopher had finally been subjugated; he was their slave.  On
the way back through the woods afterwards he was made to give them
piggyback rides.  On a number of occasions also he was forced to lie down
with the girls on top of him, always with one astride his face.
     As he parted with them at the edge of the woods, Iris said to him,
"See you next Saturday, ten o'clock."
     "I'll be there," he said, and walked home.  He dared not disobey, in
case they told everyone in the village.