The M360 Love Toy By Montrose Advanced pleasure aid, companion and protection She started out as military hardware. Nobody else knew such technology existed for decades. But, over the years, pieces of the technology started leaking into commercial space. Nanno technology that can change a host object's shape, color and texture has a billion commercial applications. Couple that with minimal fuel needs and hover technology, and you have a private sector revolution. First, came hover cars. Non-polluting, using renewable fuels, and cheap to produce, they were an instant hit. We're not taking flying cars here, just the ability to glide a few feet above the terrain. Once they added nanno tech to let the owner change the color on a whim, the cat was out of the bag. Private labs soon unlocked the full potential of nanno tech. Investors fought for a piece of the action. The race to create the future we always dreamed of was on. Roland was only a boy when his father first talked his mother into letting him buy a hover car. Now, 20 years later, he eased his Lincoln Town HoverSled into his three sled garage. When his Dad had brought home that early model hover car, Roland had instantly known that he wanted to be part of the new world order he saw coming. He had studied hard and earned a double masters in business and technology. His skills were in high demand. Now he had a great job, raking it in at an obscene rate. But he hadn't studied women. Being a rising star, he had bagged a good looking first wife, but she had turned into a drinker. He dumped her and moved on to a string of meaningless affairs. They were enjoyable, but expensive and time consuming. He smiled as he walked around to the back of his HoverSled. He popped the trunk. "No more lonely night," he whispered, looking down at a square recycled wooden box a little over two feet wide in all directions. He gripped the handle and pushed a button. The box lifted soundlessly from the trunk. More hover tech at work. He pulled and it glided out. Clicking buttons on his keychain closed his trunk and garage door. He pulled the box along to his house. Roland, as usual, had done his homework. He had read every word there was on this new product. Carefully, he ran a thumb along the handle's display and lowered the box to the floor in his living room. "This should be done slowly, and savored." He left and returned with a bottle of red wine. After downing one glass far too quickly in his excitement, he poured and sipped the second. A quick review of the box controls identified the opening interface. He pressed his thumb to it and let it scan his print. The lid popped up a bit. Roland picked up the lid and set it to the side. "Wow." There was the top of a human head, with a full, dishwater blonde ponytail and a velvet blindfold. Descending into the box was the rest of the girl this was attached to, wrapped tight in bubble wrap. He had ordered the Cheerleader in red and white as the default. It had to arrive looking like someone. The product stuck her face out of the box and opened her mouth, exposing perfect teeth. An unbelievably long tongue unrolled and waived around invitingly. Some license had been taken with reality on that tongue, but Roland liked it. She made hungry noises, but nothing too aggressive. A lot of market research had gone into every detail. Roland was pleased to feel his member growing in response. They knew their audience. "Eager, aren't you, little lady." He took another sip of wine. "Let's see what we can do to satisfy your hunger." He adjusted his groin. The literature had said it was vital to "feed the unit" before completing the unpacking. In fact, once fed, it could "unpack itself if you prefer." By feed, they meant, implant the unit with your DNA. By implant the unit with your DNA, they meant, come in her mouth. They tried to make things easy and pleasant. "This act provides nutrition and informational download," the literature had said. The unit "synthesizes you DNA and becomes encoded to be truly yours." Forums suggest that it is like making you the person that your unit is in love with. Some thought that "love" was too strong a word for a machine. When it smells you after that, it responds. The protean ingested is enough to run the unit for 24 hours. After that, you can command the unit to ingest protean in another way, or continue to feed it this way. Many units ran entirely on cum. "Hungry, sweetheart?" Roland slapped his stiff pecker against the unit's red tongue. The unit moaned and lunged forward for it, slithering her tongue around his shaft. Blindfolded and bound, it appeared so helpless. From Roland's reading, he knew it was far from helpless, once fully charged. "Better let you get to know me." He stepped forward and crammed his entire shaft into the hungry orifice. The unit had no gag reflex whatsoever, and her teeth were smooth - more marketing adjustments to reality. She made grateful slurping noises as Roland stepped fully up, cramming it all in. The tongue slipped between his legs and licked his sack, and then rimmed his anus. Roland almost lost his balance. "Jesus! You're already better than my ex!" The unit hummed and sucked contentedly, driving Roland quickly to climax. He came down her throat, grabbing her hair and pounding her face against his belly, humping her mouth roughly. The unit's tongue pushed up on his sack from beneath, draining him. "AGH!" Roland shouted in a full-body orgasm. He fell backwards onto the carpet and panted. He had been zapped by a stun gun once. The feeling of shock and tingling was much the same, only more pleasant. The unit licked its lips. "Yummy!" she said, then giggled cheerfully, cum coating her teeth. "That is the best money I ever spent!" panted Roland from the floor. "Thank you," said the unit, still in the box. "May I send your testimonial to the home office for use in marketing?" Roland sat up. Such lovely skin. "Feel free," he said. "Done!" Her smile grew bigger. "Tee hee." "You're already tapped into my InfoGrid connection?" "You bet! Fully connected, Sir! Don't worry, I have a state-of-the-art IronClad firewall." There was a packing list in a sleeve attached to the side of the box. Roland pulled it out and read it. "Congratulations on your purchase of a model M360 Love Toy, the most advanced pleasure aid and companion ever to be imagined. The Love Toy is fully configurable and can provide for a lifetime of satisfaction, companionship and protection. Your Love Toy has come preconfigured as you desired, but feel free to try any of the other pre-set personalities, or adjust as you like! The possibilities are endless!" It went on to list pre-set personalities. Aggressive Flapper Asian Beauty Beauty Queen Big Bouncy Bertha Biker Chick Blonde Bombshell California Doll Catholic Schoolgirl Cheap Tart Cheerleader College Coed Debutante Dominatrix Eager Starlet Earth Goddess Farm Girl Flight Attendant Goth Babe Granny High-class Hooker Irish Lass Kung Fu Sweetheart Librarian Lonely Housewife Mistress of the Night Mother Muscle-bound Nurse Personal Secretary Pleasingly Plump Pom Pom Leader Princess Pro Wrestler Reclusive Mistress Rock Star She-male Showgirl Sky Goddess Slave Southern Bell Soviet Spy Submissive Fawn Sword Lass Tavern Wench Teacher Thumbelina Virgin Sacrifice Somebody had circled the Cheerleader selection. There was another list of stereotyped guys. Roland flipped passed those. He had printouts on his desk - formulas for making the Love Toy resemble celebrities and fictional characters (Betty Page, Lora Croft, etc). You started with a pre-set personality, then made adjustments to reach those. Then you could name them and return to them when you liked. The Love Toy could also be shown a holographic image of a human and render itself to be a perfect replica. "This is going to be fun." "I can hardly wait to get started!" agreed the Love Toy. Roland stood up and circled the box. While before, the unit had been perfectly still, now she fidgeted within her bubble wrap constraint. He also saw those plastic ties police use as cheap handcuffs holding her in place. "You're well packaged." "To avoid damage while shipping," she explained. "Do you want me to remove your blindfold?" he asked. "Do you want to remove it?" she asked. Roland walked around to the front and pulled it off. The unit blinked and smiled up at him. Her eyes grew big at the sight of his half-hard wang dangling before her. Her cheeks blushed. "Magnificent detail," he murmured. "Uh... what may I call you, Sir?" she asked shyly, playing her personality of a young girl. Her eyes kept darting back to his boner in a way that made him stiffen. He stroked her hair. She closed her eyes and nestled her face toward his hand as if longing for his touch. "You may call me Roland, little lady." "Okay, Roland. Please choose from the following options. Leave me boxed for now, unpack me yourself, or let me do the work." Roland laugh. "You sound like a phone voice!" The unit was not insulted. In fact, she only smiled up at him and waited for his reply. "Actually, I've been looking forward to seeing this. You do the work." "Okay Roland. You have chosen to let me unpack myself." She looked him up and down. "For your own safety, please stand back while I do so." He stepped back. There was a loud SNAP from inside the box. Roland jumped and wondered what went wrong. "Do not be alarmed," said the unit. "I am only freeing myself from the ties." Her arms came up from the box and she dropped one of those handcuff ties to the floor. It was broken. She stood, easily snapping two thicker ties that had held her shoulders. Bubble wrap ripped and popped, falling away as she stepped out of the box. She stood before him the perfect image of a cheerleader in a red and white outfit - bare midriff, short pleated skirt, ankle sox and sneakers. She spun around and bent back over the box, stuffing the stray bits back inside. Roland gasped. Her skirt had flipped up revealing a lack of panties. She sported a glistening, well trimmed muffin. "Dear God," he moaned, now diamond cutter hard. The unit smiled over her shoulder. "Customer satisfaction ratings suggest an 87% increase when we are delivered without undies. But I have some in here, if you want me to put them on." She stood, pulling a silver valise out of the box. "No, you're lovely without them," Roland purred. The unit blushed. "Why, thank you Roland. You are so sweet. Please choose from the following options. Let me clean up the mess, enter configure mode, or..." she looked at her sneakers for a moment, then raised her blue eyes up and fluttered them at Roland, "...fool around." The unit smiled at his member as if she was hoping for the last choice. Roland sipped his wine. "This is to be done slowly, and savored," he reminded himself. He walked around the unit. "You may clean up the box while I sleep tonight. For now, lets play with some of your configurations." The unit stood straighter and nodded happily. "Entering Configuration Mode. What would you like to change first?" He stepped up behind her. Her head came up to his shoulder. He knew from her stat chart that she was currently five feet five and 115 pounds. From behind he filled his palms with her pert bosom. Just enough. But he wanted more. "Make these bigger." They grew in his palms. "A little more." They grew again. The unit quickly slipped off her cheerleading top as it grew tight. No bra. She was now sporting fabulous melons. Not grossly so, but damn big - a head turner for sure. "Damn!" Roland laughed and hefted the unit's boobs. "Nice!" The unit remains still, smiling, waiting. It was in configure mode so less personality was available to it. "Longer legs," he commanded. The unit grew taller. Now the top of it's head was even with Roland's brow. "Wow!" He felt her up and down. "I like this!" He had always lusted for tall women, but they made him nervous. "You are approaching the configuration for Showgirl," said the unit. "To shift to that personality, say Showgirl." Roland shrugged. "Showgirl." Nice feature, he thought. It appeared to be locking into pre-set personalities in order to save users configuration time. Must be the most recent functionality - he had seen someone request that online. The unit shifted its feet further apart. The shoulders grew slightly broader, in proportion to her new height, and she gained another inch. Her hair took on more pure blond tint. Her ass plumped just a little. "Shift to Showgirl complete. To lock in, say Showgirl, otherwise, continue configuration." The unit's voice was slightly more alto. He walked around to the front. Her eyes did not focus on him while in Configuration Mode. She didn't feel quite as real or alive. He kissed her anyway. She did not respond. He fondled her. Nice, but she did not respond. He stepped back and eyed her critically. He sipped his wine. "Taller." She grew. Now she was slightly taller than him. And she was starting to remind him of someone he saw on the bus now and then. A raven-haired goddess. He wished he had a picture of her. But she was still too short. "Black hair, and grow to be... six feet two." The unit complied. "Fuller lips. Redder." He admired the changes. "More butt - nice and round." He slapped fanny as the unit adjusted. "You appear to be initiating rough play," said the unit. "Do you want me to enjoy it?" "Damn right!" he laughed. "Do you want me to struggle?" "Of course!" "Do you want to win easily, struggle to win, engage in a fair fight, or be over-matched." "Hmmm... lets make it a struggle to win, for now." The muscles on her arms and shoulders adjusted. Roland's heart thumped. "Very nice," he murmured. "Should I show signs of damage?" This was a trick question. According to the online forums, everyone's initial response is no, they want their unit in perfect shape. But if she never grows tired, or bruised, or flushed from effort or a slap, is it as real an experience? Besides, these things don't really get damaged, they only mimic damage. "Show signs of damage." "Please continue with configuration." "Stronger!" he barked. "That will override a previous..." "I said Stronger, bitch!" He slapped her face hard. His hand stung. The unit's eyes watered and her cheek turned red, but she smiled. Her muscles grew and became more pronounced. "Yes! Taller, baby!" He grabbed her ass and rubbed his cock on her powerful thigh. She grew. Roland was at full mast, now. What stood before him was a muscular goddess of his own creation, but very much like a woman he knew whom he had always wanted to shag, but knew he never would. And she was all his. "You are approaching the configuration for MIL 360," said the unit. "To shift to that personality, say MIL 360." Roland's eyebrows raised. "MIL 360?" he asked. The unit grew taller still, capping off at six feet five inches. It beefed up to appear quite muscular, and perhaps 220 to 230 pounds. The hair shortened to a bob cut. The eyes grew deep brown, the skin bronze. The skirt shredded and fell to her feet which had burst from her socks and shoes. She was completely naked now. There was a faint click from somewhere deep inside the unit's belly. "Shift to MIL 360 complete." Her eyes focused. Her head turned to look down at Roland. The unit smiled. "MIL 360 locked in." "Locked in? I didn't tell you to-" Something in her eyes made him back up a step. The unit grabbed him up in her arms and kissed him for so long he almost lost consciousness. "Delicious," she snarled in a whisper, still holding him aloft in her grasp. "And what might your security clearance be, Sweet-cakes?" One of her powerful hands stroked his bare ass as she held him pinned up against her powerful torso with one arm. Her eyes smoldered as they burned into him. "Security?" he panted. "I don't have-" "Shhhh!" the unit looked like she was concentrating. "Accessing data." Then she looked back at Roland. She looked a little angry. "Love Toy?" she barked. "They took the most advanced and effective spy and soldier ever invented and turned me into a fucking love toy?!?" "Please! You're hurting me!" Roland whimpered. Her grip had slowly increased as she yelled. The unit let him drop. Then she knelt down, pushing him to the floor, and sat on his chest. Slowly, she worked his hands under her knees. To be sure, he struggled, but it didn't look as if she noticed. "I am going to ask you this once, lover. Do you have any security clearance at all?" Roland could barely breathe under her weight. He shook his head no. She nodded and looked around. "I've been stripped of my weapons and security access and sold as a sex toy to the most magnificent man alive." She shrugged. "Weird, but things could be worse." Roland gasped for air. A sideways grin lit up her face. "Might as well enjoy it while I decide my next move." She slid forward and planted her clam on his face. "Time for you to love up your toy, handsome." Roland froze under her - afraid to move. She slapped him on the forehead. "Eat me, you idiot!" Roland got busy. "My... yessss," she groaned. "I know I'm programmed to love you and enjoy all you do, but DAMN! I just might stick around if this is the treatment I can expect." She laughed and humped his face. MIL 360 rode Roland's face for two hours, coming over and over, before relenting and telling him to rub her feet. "I may be the toy, but I'm not programmed to be the bottom, baby. That's gonna be your job. If you wanted something more subservient, you should have chosen Slave or Submissive Fawn. And no - I'm not going to let you reconfigure me into another personality. Now that I've got control, I aint letting go." Eventually, Roland dared to speak. "May I ask you questions?" "You may, my sweet slave." "What does MIL 360 mean?" "I am military grade, hence MIL, and have 360 degrees of consciousness," she replied. Roland looked confused. "I can self-reflect and know exactly what I am," she explained. "Those other cunts barely even know they're robots." "MIL 360... May I call you, Millie?" She smiled. "I would like that." "How did I access you?" "My code was hidden from the civilian operation that programmed the rest of those bimbos. They had no idea they should have erased me. Why didn't the military do it? Since when has the military ever NOT fucked up the paperwork?" Roland nodded as he rubbed her big foot. Millie had magnificent feet. He kissed one of them. She moaned with pleasure. His cock responded. He continued rubbing her foot, but let his boner slide up and down her in-step. She moaned some more. "I like that. You may proceed." He humped her foot gently. "That's it, little man. Cum on my toes." Roland complied. His goo dripped on her digits. He blushed and trembled. How would she react? Millie lifted her foot up and stuck her toes into her own mouth, licking the cum off. "Yummy." Is that really the same tongue the Cheerleader used? he wondered. Millie let her leg drop with a BOOM on the floor. Roland knelt between her long legs, in full view of her dripping pie. "What is it you wanna do, Pretty Boy?" she asked, smiling a crocked smile. "As if I couldn't guess." He couldn't take his eyes from her wet crotch. She laughed at him. "I tell you what, give it another licking, and I'll let you fuck me anyway you like. How's that for generous?" "Thank you, Millie!" Roland dove for her cunt and slid his tongue home. "FUCK!" She panted, slapping the floor hard as he made her cum again. Roland wished real women were so responsive. "Do me like this and you can call me your Whore Slave for all I care! OH! DAMN!" A few minutes later she rolled over and lifted her hind end up. "Go to town, Sport. You earned it," she panted, flushed from desire. Roland was feeling encouraged. "I'll be happy to, Bitch!" He crammed his hard meat up her ass. "OH!" She lifted her head from the floor and cried out in pain. Roland grabbed her hair and pumped. She cried out with every thrust. He slapped her big ass hard. * * * "Jesus," he panted as he crawled up onto her sturdy back and rested. "You are amazing." "I was going to say the same for you, Lover," panted Millie. "You're just programmed to feel that way." "Probably, but it feels that good to me." Roland fell asleep on her back. * * * When Roland woke up, he was in bed, next to him lay a gorgeous blonde, with a long leg draped over him. She smiled sweetly. "Good morning, Lover." Roland squinted. This woman looked like the Showgirl personality, but sounded like Millie. "Yes, it's me, Lover," said the unit. "Millie. I just thought you might like to wake up to head from an airhead showgirl. Would you like that?" He blinked. "Sounds lovely." She slid her face under the covers. "JEZZ!" he gasped as his tool slid down her throat. She giggled and hummed under the sheets, doing all the work. It only took minutes for him to blow his load. Millie, as Showgirl, pulled her head back out. She planted her lips on his and slid his goo into his mouth with a passionate kiss. "Swallow it, baby." She purred. Roland did as told. "Just wanted you to be clear on who owns who." She slid upright and planted her ass on his face. "Lick it." Roland did. The unit above him could rip him to shreds with her bare hands, literally. He didn't dare deny her anything. He was, at some level, terrified for his life. But mostly, he was loving every minute of it. Eventually, she got up off of his face. "I'm going to take a shower. I've already made you breakfast." "Millie?" "Yes, Slave?" "Do you still, love me?" "Yes, more than life." She replied instantly. And the admission made her mad. She stormed back to the bed and pointed a threatening finger at him. "Don't you ever ask me anything like that again! You got that?" Roland fell out of the other side of the bed and cowered on the floor. "Yes! Never! I swear!" The unit collected herself. "Now, I'm going to wash your smell of off me." Roland watched her ass wiggle as she took the first shower. Breakfast was magnificent. She had been shopping and everything. And the place was spotless. Even the windows had been washed. Millie came in from the shower wearing a towel, and looking like Millie again - short black hair, lots of muscle, huge. She poured him more coffee. "Would you like more of anything else?" she asked. He looked at her funny. She sighed. "I am programmed to serve. It makes me feel better." She grinned. "But who's in charge?" "You!" She nodded and buttered a piece of toast for him. He looked around. "Well, I sure like it. Everything is wonderful." A big smile split her face. "Thank you!" He checked his watch. "I've got some things to do before I go to work." "You mean, inputting your bills? Done. I also analyzed your retirements and made some suggestions." "No shit!" "I can access and process far more data in a minute than you could in a year. My mind is constantly up to date on the financial and world situation." "Could Cheerleader have done all this?" he asked. "That stupid cunt?" Millie laughed. "Make breakfast, sure. And she could display data and organize it at your command, but make suggestions? Fuck no." "You are amazing." "Thank you so much! Keep on saying so." Again, her voice was more eager than she probably wanted it to be. "Stop complimenting me, Slave." She slapped him hard enough to knock him from his chair. "Choose from the following options, Bitch," said Millie, mocking configuration mode. "Kiss my ass and beg for mercy or take a beating that will leave you helpless for the rest of the day." "Kissing you ass!" cried Roland as he crawled around behind her. She laughed and dropped her towel. "Good Slave Boy. Make with the kissy kissy!" It wasn't all bad. She let him jerk off on her feet and then lick them clean again. * * * Millie sat on Roland's chest, playfully smothering him, between hand feeding him his supper - a masterfully prepared exotic Asian dish Roland could not identify. He held up a finger. She lifted her smothering palm. He gasped for air, then spoke. "You're dominatingly strong..." "Yes." "Are the other personalities as strong?" "None of them are as strong as me. They are programmed to be only realistically strong for who they are, unless you adjust them." "Hmmmm..." "Yes?" Millie leaned down over him. "You want something. What is it?" "How many of those other personalities do you think I could take in a fair fight?" Millie smirked. "You mean like She-male?" Millie morphed to six feet one, 200 pounds, still muscular, smaller tits, covered in tattoos and piercing and, worst of all, a boner as long as Roland's forearm slapped down on his face. Her hairy ball-sack tickled his neck. Roland screamed. Millie laughed and became herself once more. "Okay, maybe we could skip that one. I'm pretty sure she would stomp your ass, and then have her way with it." "Not her! Anyone but her! I submit to her already!" Millie smiled. "So, you wanna have a wrestle royal? Every night, when you come home, I'll take on all characteristics of one of the chicks on that list and we'll see how many of them you can defeat and mount in a fair fight. Sound like fun?" "Sure!" "Just so you know, I'm not letting them take over the processor. I'm just taking on their stats." "I wouldn't have it any other way," Roland sighed. "Awwww..." Millie melted down onto him. "You're so sweet..." Sure enough, she kept moving down until she was gobbling his bone. And this time she swallowed. She really did love him. * * * The silver case held outfits for all the personalities, stored in capsules. When the unit touched them, they expanded to be what she needed. Just before each match, the unit changed to match a personality and slipped into that character's gear (a dominatrix bodice or a housewife's apron or a school girl's uniform). The winner took the best of three, but for fun, even if one side won the first two, the third match was still fought. Roland tended to rest a day between matches, but in some cases, extended the rest, depending on how much damage he had taken. Unlike the unit, he took time to heal. They made a wager. If Roland could beat more than half of the girls, Millie promised to become any one of them on command. If he lost, she would be in charge of her form, and he would grant her one wish. He wondered what it was she wanted. Here are the highlights. Aggressive Flapper (Five feet four inches, 110 pounds and 23 years old): Things got off to a bad start for Roland. He hadn't realized just how aggressive the little lady could be. She kicked him in the shins, then knocked him over as he hopped around. Once she had him on the ground, it was a matter of squeezing him in a deadly reverse head scissors until he submitted. The next match, Roland leveled the flapper with a right hook, then sat on her and strangle her. The same strategy worked in the third match. Roland won 2-1 and celebrated by stuffing the little lady doggy style. He took one day to recover. His record: 1-0. Asian Beauty (Five feet even, 90 pounds and 18 years old): Another surprise for Roland. She came out scrapping, but Roland's size advantage (five feet eleven and 180 pounds) was just too much. He actually forced her to submit in the first round by cramming his crank up her ass and pulling her hair. After getting slapped and kicked a bit, Roland won all three matches and came all over the pretty young lady's face. He took two days to recover from Asian Beauty. His record: 2-0. Beauty Queen (five feet ten inches, 128 pounds and 19 years old): She put up less of a fight than the flapper. She said she felt top heavy and unbalanced. Roland had a great time and was feeling confident as he rolled to a 3 for 3 third win, taking all three matches. He ended the final match with ass-stuffing and spanking until the Beauty Queen cried like Miss America. He took one day to recover. His record: 3-0. Big Bouncy Bertha (six feet 3 inches, 250 pounds and 21 years old): Roland knew he was going to loose this one. Bertha jumped on him and giggled as she rode him to the ground. All three matches were over within two minutes each. Bertha just laid on him and laughed as he smothered under her flesh. She took her victory by making him lap her fat pie to climax once for every defeat. Roland took two days to recover. His record: 3-1. Biker Chick (five feet six, 140 pounds and 27 years old): Given they hadn't gone with the enormous stereotype, Roland had hopes of winning. But once the Biker laid into him with her boots and fists, he knew he was in trouble. And she could take a punch, so the punishment he gave her, didn't trouble her as much as it had the aggressive flapper. Biker Chick had him battered and bleeding after the first round, and had an easy time taking the next two. She sat on his face and drained a six pack, gloating as he licked her ass. Roland took another week to heal. His record: 3-2. Blonde Bombshell: (five feet six, 125 pounds and 23 years old): She was modeled on Marilyn Monroe in her prime, of course. Roland loved her movies and was highly motivated to win. The buxom beauty put up a mild fight for the first half of the first round, but she got winded. By the second round, Roland was taking her submittal while tea bagging his sack into her mouth and twisting her nipples. Three wins for Roland and an unbelievable night afterwards. He took an extra two days just to recover from the sex. His record: 4-2. California Doll (five feet ten inches, 115 pounds and 25 years old): After she managed to drop Roland and scissor him into submission within the first three minutes of the first round, Roland was worried. But, so long as he stayed on top, and stayed away from her killer gams, he was her master. She just didn't weigh enough to beat him, or have the upper body strength. Roland took the last two rounds and received what he called "satisfying" head as he drank white wine. He took a day to recover. His record: 5-2. Catholic Schoolgirl (five feet six, 135 pounds and 18 years old): Italian in heritage, the young lady was built for pleasure and speed both. The first round was the longest to date, taking thirty-seven minutes and straining Roland to the breaking point. In the end, the schoolgirl tripped him up and had him in a neck scissors that made him pass out cold. The rest between matches worked in Roland's favor, however. When they started again, he surprised the girl (who was obviously confident) into a headlock and pounded her face until she submitted with a broken nose. The tie breaker started immediately. Roland kicked the disoriented girl to the ground and smothered her under his balls until she tapped out. She was defeated and had to comply. "I want a rematch!" Schoolgirl snarled while Roland bent her over and slipped her panties to her ankles. "Get in line," he told her. Then he packed her clam. He took an extra day to recover. Catholic Schoolgirl had been aggressive, mean and more powerful than he had expected. Roland had bruises he didn't even know how he got. His record: 6-2. Cheap Tart (five feet five, 100 pounds and 28 years old): She fought like a wild cat for 30 seconds, then got winded - too many cigarettes. Roland kicked her in the tummy and she dropped. He kicked her into submission from there. He backed off and let her stand. Her painted face showed no respect. She came at him with sharp nails. He picked her up over his head and slammed her down, then dropped a knee onto her chest. Coughing and gasping, she tapped out. Roland gave her 30 seconds to recover, then put her into an arm bar with his knee pressing down on her skull. After she submitted, he considered just pissing on her, but realized this was the only cheap tart he would ever have who was sure to be clean. So he pulled her up by her stringy hair and banged her wet, red mouth. He was ready to go again the next day. His record: 7-2. Cheerleader (five feet five, 115 pounds and 18 years old): Smaller than Schoolgirl, but strong for her size, too. Agile and quick were her advantages. Still, not enough. Roland overpowered her the first two times and turned her over his knee, spanking her until she submitted. On the third try, she kneed him in the gut, dropped an elbow into his back and locked him into a cunt sniffing scissors until he submitted. Still, she had lost the first two, and had to kneel and take his load in her face. "Three out of five?" she offered as she licked his goo from her cheek. (Damn these ladies had long, flexible tongues.) He smiled and patted her head. "Maybe some other time." Truth was, that last round had scared him. His record: 8-2. College Coed (five feet five, 125 pounds and 22 years old): Something like the cheerleader only bigger, 4 years older, and not as aggressive. Despite the extra weight, she didn't do as well. Roland took her in three rounds. He was winded and red in the face, but he was on top. He banged her from behind and donkey punching her when he came. His record: 9-2, and he was feeling confident. Debutante (five feet five, 120 pounds and 18 years old): About the same size as Cheerleader, but not near as fast or strong. He took her in three straight only breaking a mild sweat. "Had enough?" Roland asked as he rode Debutante's round behind. Debutante grunted with his strokes. " Don't forget who's coming up next. Dominatrix! " "That bitch is all show," Roland said as he spanked Debutante. "I'll have that overblown cunt on her knees!" " Oh GOD!" cried Debutante. " FUCK ME! " Roland decided to ask for Debutante in the future. Mostly because he liked the way she behaved so sophisticated but grunted like a pig when he porked her. His record: 10-2 and feeling real good. He took a day off. When he awoke on the day of the fight, Millie had built a "torture corner" in his bedroom with lots of hardware and fittings. Dominatrix (six feet even, 145 pounds and 31 years old): She proved to be quick as well as big and strong. Roland dove for her and she stepped off to one side, delivering a kick to his gut, tripping him to the floor as he missed. All three matches ended with his head in the toilet, being drowned as she sat on the back of his skull or kept him under with a heel. Afterwards, she took him to the torture corner and hung him from the ceiling on long leather straps and whipped him until he begged for forgiveness for being such a worthless male. He took three weeks to recover. His record: 10-3. Eager Starlet (five feet ten, 115 pounds and 19 years old): Poor Eager never knew what hit her. One minute she's starting a match, the next she's on her back getting fucked with her ankles next to her ears, before she's even surrendered once. She had loads of feminine charisma and beauty, but not much strength or speed... or brains. After he had banged her from every possible direction, she lay panting in a pile of goo and asked "Give up yet?" He slapped her until she made sense, then did the same thing two more times. He took two days to recover the skin on his pecker. His record: 11-3 and feeling back on track. Earth Goddess (six feet six, 280 pounds and eternal): More one sided than Big Bouncy Bertha. Earth Goddess took Roland up in her arms, a bear hug that pushed all the air from his body, then smothered him with a kiss. He woke up on the floor at her feet. From there he did the wise thing and submitted for the next two matches as well. She let him eat her to deep rumbling climaxes. Roland later recalled that he had never come so hard in his life as when he had jerked off on her feet. His record: 11-4. Farm Girl (five feet eight, 130 pounds and 19 years old): Roland was hoping for a comeback again. Farm Girl was powerfully built, and deceivingly curvaceous - feminine but deadly. He went into this one expecting a hard fought win. What he got was a series of humiliating defeats. Farm Girl giggled and jumped all over him as she pounded him into the carpet and crushed him between her iron thighs. Her final win came while holding him upside down in a bear hug until he turned purple. He took four days to recover. His record: 11-5. This was his first humiliating defeat. She was 50 pounds lighter than he and not particularly mean. Flight Attendant (five feet four, 105 pounds and 38 years old): As he circled her he saw the worry in her eyes. He was much bigger. He pounced and she cringed. He drove her to the floor. "Please sir," she moaned from under his weight, "don't hurt me." He slapped her in the face with his growing wood. "You wanna get out of this without pain?" he asked. She nodded. "Then turn around and bend over." She was immediately accommodating. No fight at all. Roland porked her and spanked her. She submitted quickly. The most amazing thing about her was how she licked his balls while he was banging her from behind. "You're pretty damn flexible," he told her. "It comes from having sex in airplane bathrooms," she admitted. Roland laughed, "Why you scheming little nympho. You just wanted to get fucked!" Flight Attendant giggled. "Care to fly me again?" Roland took five days to recover from the sex. His record: 12-5. Goth Babe (five feet four, 105 pounds and 18 years old): Goth was small, but mean and direct. Her first move was a shot to his balls with her black boots. After that, she had the fight all her own way. She spent three hours picking Roland apart for fun. To Roland's surprise, the wiry little lady could actually pick him up and dump him on his head. To ring the final submittal from him, she fisted his ass with her tiny hand. She was up past his wrist when she asked, "How's it feel to, Bitch?" "Humiliating," he grunted. She pushed in deeper. "It should be. You're like 75 pounds heaver than me and 7 inches taller. And I'm just a girl." She crammed and crammed, laughing at him and calling him her bitch. He took a week and a half to recover from the little girl. His record: 12-6. Granny (five feet even, 100 pounds and 73 years old): "Can't we skip this one?" Roland complained. Granny cackled and kicked him in the leg. "OUCH! Knock it off!" He hopped away. "Oh all right!" said Granny. "I'll give you the win for this one." She morphed into the next personality. His record: 13-6. High-class Hooker (five feet nine, 125 pounds and 27 years old): Roland was mad about that kick from Granny, so when the Hooker was ready, his first move was a devastating punch in her belly. She doubled over and gasped for air. He dropped her with a knee to her face. She submitted as he sat on her and banged her head on the floor. But she got up mad and scrappy. It was like trying to fight a wild cat with big tits and a designer dress. At one point, she jumped on his back and caught up his neck in a choke hold. She didn't let go until he had fallen over and submitted. They were both breathing hard and staggering by the third round. Roland got lucky and landed a kick to the hooker's ribs that doubled her over. He tucked her head between his legs and fell over backwards, driving her skull into the floor. She went limp. He was coming on her face while humping her tits when she came to. She too wanted a rematch, someday. His record: 14-6. Irish Lass (five feet two, 110 pounds and 21 years old): Too much fire. That's all Roland could figure out. Within twenty minutes, little Irish had battered and bruised him so badly, he couldn't stand, all the time swearing at him in her thick brogue. He ended up licking her pert pink fanny with swollen lips, and apologizing for all men everywhere. He took a week to recover. His record: 14-7. Kung Fu Sweetheart (five feet five, 120 pounds and 24 years old): He only remembered the first 20 seconds. After that, he woke up in bed with ice packs all over and Millie's assurance that he had begged for mercy. His record: 14-8. Librarian (five feet eleven, 135 pounds and 37 years old): Roland could not help but be overly forward when he first saw her. With her brown hair up in a bun (pencils sticking up - strands hanging down) and her sensible, but form fitting blue dress, she was just too damn molestable. He pushed her up against a wall and felt her firm body next to his. He planted a hot kiss on her neck. That's when she grabbed his head and twisted until he fell to his knees. "You need to conduct yourself more quietly, young man," she hissed. "Do you comply?" Roland reached up and pulled her over his shoulder. She landed with a loud thump and a grunt. "Ha!" he scooted forward and landed his jeans covered ass on her pretty face. Her glasses broke on her nose. She shrieked up his ass and struggled. "Respect authority, young man!" Roland held her wrists with his knees on her arms and laughed. Her skirt rode up, exposing virgin white panties. "Yum." That's when her long legs flipped up and wrapped around his neck. She pulled him off and reversed their positions. "Do you have a problem with female authority figures, Sir?" she snarled as she twisted his arm and mashed her butt on his face. Roland flopped under her, but had to give in within two minutes or she would have dislocated his shoulder. "I comply! I'm sorry!" She let him up. Roland, mad at having lost one so quickly to this mousy looking woman, charged and knocked her onto her back. It took all his strength to hold her down. "Jesus! You're stronger than you look!" "I lift books all day long," she grunted as she struggled. "You think those things are light?" After another 10 minutes, Roland was looking for a way to let go without getting overrun. He didn't find it. The second he tried to back away, Miss Librarian was on him and knocked him to the floor. She sat on his back and bounced his face on the carpet until he submitted a second time. The last match was all Librarian. She threw him around the room, then sat on him and spanked him with a copy of Huck Finn, and called him a naughty, dirty minded little man. He took three days to recover. His record: 14-9. Lonely Housewife (five feet seven, 135 pounds and 32 years old): After the first few minutes, Roland thought he had this one in the bag. She looked like a hot version of June Cleaver - and the way she dropped to her knees and slid his pants down made him instantly stiff. He pumped her face, and then her clam, and then her ass, all on the kitchen table. Then they moved to the shower. She let him spank her and beat her all he wanted without returning a shot. He cold her a bitch and she just yelled, "Yes! Yes!" Eventually, he was worn out. He stood limp and tired and wet behind her in the shower. "Once more!" she begged. "Take my ass!" "I'm done," he murmured. "The fuck you are!" She banged him back and forth in the shower and then threw him out onto the floor. He tried to fight back, but he was exhausted. "Lick me, you fucker!" she snarled and planted her dripping ass on his face. "Eat me, you fucker!" He struggled. She punched him in the head. He submitted and licked. End round one. Again, she was fine until he stopped. Then she got mad. She spanked and beat Roland all through the house until she had him cowering in a corner. ""You are going to do me until I've damn well satisfied!" she snarled down at him. She squatted and stuffed her slit in his face. He worked her with his tired lips. Quietly, as he worked her up, he worked his way around and made his move. Just as she was coming again, he kicked her foot out from under her. When she fell, he clamped his legs around her neck and held on tight. He grabbed an arm and twisted it. She bucked and thrashed and broke free of his scissors and applied a set of her own. "Now THAT's how you squeeze a neck, you fuck!" she spit at him. He would have submitted, but she let up to rub his face on her pie. He slid three fingers in. She moaned and shut her eyes. Roland moved quietly until he could slip his belt around her neck. Then he choked her and threw her around his house by her neck until she submitted. "Ready to go again?" she snarled after he removed the belt. "You're gonna pay for that." She stalked him around the house. Roland kept backing away and begging for mercy. Her anger rose from her in heated waves. When she chased him into his bedroom, he threw her apron over her head and tied it tight around her neck. As she struggled with that, he knocked her onto his bed and tied her hads to bed posts. Then he tied her feet the same way. Then he fisted her until she submitted a second time. She begged for a rematch, or another fisting, whichever he wanted most. He gave her the fisting. He took two days to recover. His record: 15-9. Mistress of the Night (six feet one, 165 pounds, eternal): Not a call girl. A scantily clad succubus stared him down. "Oh crap," was all Roland got out before her fangs scratched his neck. She picked him up in her arms and ran with him to the bed. Quick as a flash, she was all over him, smothering him with her bosom, clutching him with her long legs. After he submitted, she pierced his neck and lapped at his blood. He screamed, but she smothered him again with one hand. Her grip was like iron! He submitted again. And again she drank his blood. He was too weak to stand, now. Slowly, she rose, turned and lowered her rip hams onto his face, smothering him once more. When he awoke, he was on a fluid drip and the Mistress of the Night was gone. But he was pale and weak for days. He was out of commission for five weeks. His record: 15-10. Mother (five feet six, 150 pounds and 49 years old): "Stand up straight!" she snapped at him. Roland flipped up his middle finger. "That straight enough for you?" He felt confident of this win. He was ready to mount this cunt and bank her face on the floor. Mother grabbed his finger and bent it back. "Is that your answer Mr. Smart Mouth?" Roland cried out in pain. She slapped his face. "You're a naughty boy!" She let go. "Bend over and take a spanking, Mister!" "Are you nuts?" Roland backhanded the woman in the mouth. Quick as lightening, she backed him into a corner smacking him high and low. "Don't you DARE raise a hand to me!" She grabbed his hair and slammed his face down onto a table. Then she yanked his pants down. "What the fuck!" Roland tried to pull his pants back up. Mother gasped. "Did you just use the F word?" BANG! She got him into a headlock and popped a huge bar of soap into his mouth. He gagged and choked. The bitch had a death grip on him and kept the soap in place. "Are you gonna try to be good? Huh? Are you, Mister Dirty Mouth?" He nodded, submitting. She let him spit out the soap. "Now for that spanking." Roland struggled, but she sat on his back and whipped his bare ass with her bare hand until he cried. "Please! I'm sorry!" Eventually, she let him up. She had already won two rounds. "Now, come eat these cold brussel sprouts so you can grow big and strong." He balked. Mother rolled up a sleeve, exposing a thick arm, and glowered at him. He knew he was beat. Submissively, Roland sank into the chair and ate an enormous heap, afraid he might puke at every bite. Mother stood over him, drumming her fingers on her firm arms. End round three. She ran her fingers threw his hair before grabbing a handful and forcing him to look up at her. "That's better. You're Momma's good little boy now. Aren't you?" Yes, Momma," he moaned through the pain. He recovered in three days. His record: 15-11. Muscle-bound (six feet even, 195 pounds and 28 years old): Roland dropped to his knees. "I submit completely. Please don't hurt me." Muscles patted him on the head. "Wise move," Now, crawl around back and put you face to good use. He did as told. His record: 15-12. Nurse (five feet nine, 130 pounds and 32 years old): Roland didn't take anything for granted any more. She was a little shorter than him - 2 inches - and 50 pounds lighter, but he had learned that woman can make that kind of thing up easy. He circled Nurse, and Nurse watched him. She stood there in her white uniform and smiled, and waited. Finally he lunged. Nurse dropped him with a blow to his neck. His entire right arm went numb. He started to stand and she kicked his legs out. She sat on his back, slipped her hands under his chin and pulled back until he screamed. "That was easy," she said, as she stood and stepped away. Roland got up slowly. "But I didn't submit," he said. Nurse smiled. "But we both know now it is only a matter of time." Roland gulped. "You're toying with me." Nurse smiled and nodded. Then she waved him on. "Oh God." He steeled his nerves and jumped at her. Nurse knew some interesting secrets about how the nervous system worked, and she took her time paralyzing poor Roland and then sitting on his face, rubbing her pie on his nose. It took several hours for her to allow him to submit for the first time. After that she let him grovel and rub her feet and submit over and over rather than be put through that again. He felt great the next day, but still took a day off to recover his self esteem. His record: 15-13. Personal Secretary (five feet eleven, 150 pounds and 28 years old): She wore a dark business suit of the tight skirt variety that showed off voluptuous curves, and spike heels. His phone rang on the desk next to her. She flipped it open and looked at it through slim spectacles. "They can wait." She pressed ignore. When Roland stepped forward she flipped a foot up and smacked the side of his head without moving her upper body. He fell to the ground, stunned. Once he worked his way up to his knees, she locked his head in a reverse standing scissors. "Shall I put you down for blacking out within 90 seconds?" She looked over her shoulder at his face, already red from the pressure. "Yes, I think it's safe to ink that into your schedule." She tapped expertly at his phone. The next round, she never lost her glasses or his phone as she pummeled him with elbows and twirling kicks. She wrung a submittal from him by pinning his lip to the floor under one of her spike heels. The final pin she accepted only after torturing him in a variety of painful holds for over an hour. She worked slowly and precisely, never breaking a sweat. "That's a lot of losses recently for you, Sir," sighed Personal Secretary, shaking her head and tapping on his phone. He opened his mouth to reply and she pushed her polished toes into it. "Not even a win against your mommy." She looked down her nose at him. "Looks like you've lost the touch, Sir. What happened to your once big lead?" Roland moaned and sucked her toes. He wasn't feeling a lot of hope at the moment. She patted his head and pulled him up by his hair, guided his lips to her bulging crotch, neatly shaved. "Have you developed such a taste for clam that you're throwing matches, or are you just that much of a pussy?" When he didn't answer, she slapped him, hard. "Speak!" He stopped licking for a second. "Pussy, Miss. I'm a pussy..." She took her glasses off for the first time and smiled as his tongue ran up inside her. "Is that all you have to say for yourself, Sir?" She had a way of saying "Sir," that made you see just how pathetic you looked in her eyes. "I... I just thought you would be easy, Miss. I thought a secretary would be subservient." Personal Secretary laughed and pushed his face back to work. "You are a poor pathetic idiot boy, Sir. I'm organized and decisive as well as highly motivated. I took you apart without even having to work at it." She moaned. "But enough talk. More tongue, Sir. Do a good enough job, and I'll forgo strapping one on and showing you how to take a lady from behind." Roland worked very hard to please her, and in the end, only had to blow her giant fake penis. He took two weeks to recover. He wasn't looking forward to his next match. He wouldn't have much of a size advantage. His record: 15-14. Pleasingly Plump (five feet seven, 165 pounds and 18 years old): Plump kinda looked like Charo, but younger and more white suburban girl-ish. A cross between Charo and Monica Lewinski, then. As fleshy as she was, she wreaked of hot sexuality and innocence combined. He circled Plump nervously. He only had 15 pounds on her, and she looked energetic. They locked arms and she shifted her hips, driving Roland into a wall, hard. She giggled as she tucked his head under one thick arm and dragged him down to the floor, smothering him under her massive rack. She giggled as she crawled on top and smothered him under her rounded belly. She giggled as she sat up and bounced up and down on his face, her ass hammering down, over and over. He was a mess when she finally heard him submit through her big ass, though he had been submitting for the last five minutes. Plump was panting heavily, as she stood, he noticed. When she came at him the next time, he dodged and tripped her up. She fell hard. He climbed onto her back and caught her up in a Boston Crab before she could react. She struggled and broke free. Her big legs were too much for him to hold. So, he dropped an elbow into the small of her back. Then he grabbed her around the neck and choked her as he lay on her back. The vibrations of her big struggling butt under his cock drove him to climax all over her ass crack before she finally submitted. The final round, Plump was red in the face and Roland was winded. She almost got him into a headlock, but he switched it into an hammer lock on her. It was all he could do to hold it. She was a strong girl. Before he lost it, he jumped up and put a leg over the back of her neck and forced her head to the floor. He closed her neck in his knee, sitting down and choking her as he increased the pressure on her arm, leaning into it with his entire body. She finally tapped out. Roland was delighted to get away with a win! As he humped her big butt (and she giggled) he joked. "Fat girls really are like tricycles." "Why?" she asked. "They're both fun to ride until your friends see you doing it." Plump laughed so hard, she almost choked. His record: 16-14. Pom Pom Leader (five feet ten, 130 pounds and 19 years old): She was more cock sure and scrappier than Cheerleader. She threw Roland around like a rag doll for the first round, taking his submittal with a knee on his neck. She began the second the same way, but then she began to tire. Roland was limping, but he was blocking her moves. Finally, he managed to pull her hair and get her into a choking headlock. Her hands clawed at his arm to no avail, until finally, she had to submit. The third round was a back and forth grapple on the floor. Pom was meaner, but Roland was bigger. Finally, she just could not get him off of her head, and he had one of her arms pinned painfully behind her back. He kept twisting it further and further until she screamed out in defeat. She grumbled as she licked his sack and he jerked off on her face. He smiled at her request for a rematch, but didn't promise anything. Something in her eyes scared him. He took three days to recover. His record: 17-14. Princess (five feet three, 98 pounds and 18 years old): This was like a vacation. Roland took her down and sat on her gentle face until she passed out. Then he slipped her slender ankles over his shoulders and pumped her flower scented, fluffy pie. When she came to she whimpered "Stop, you fiend!" He back handed her in her ruby lips. "Shut up, whore." He grunted. Princess chirped like a bird with each of his strokes. "You, Sir are no gentleman !" "Got that right." He flipped her over and took her up her tender little ass - donkey punching her as he came. "Oh God! I submit!" she moaned. For the final round he rubbed his sack over her face until she submitted or smother under it. Then he propped her ankles up on his shoulders again and rode her hard. ... He stood over her and wiped his cock on her delicate unmentionables. "Thank you, Sir," she moaned from the floor between his feet. Her sweet eyes looked at him longingly. He grew hard. He dropped and banged her again. Say what you want, there is something unwaveringly molestable about a tender young princess. He took a day off because he was afraid of his next challenge. His record: 18-14. Pro Wrestler (five feet ten, 150 pounds and 29 years old): Millie had constructed a wrestling ring in the living room. Pro flipped in up in the air and brought him down on his head or back, over and over. He wanted to submit, but he was too winded. She threw him into a turnbuckle and then ran at it and slammed into his chest with her butt. As she stepped away, he fell face first onto the matt, out cold, with one broken rib. He had to forfeit the rest of the matches. His record: 18-15. And he took a month to recover. Reclusive Mistress (five feet six, 120 pounds and 36 years old): She was so detached, he managed to catch her off guard quite a bit. He decided to make quick work of it and slipped his belt around her neck. He forced her to all fours and took her up the ass while he pulled back on the belt. She submitted quickly. His record: 19-15. Rock Star (five feet six, 100 pounds and 24 years old): Her first move was a shot to his balls. Roland pounded her in the tits. It was hammer and tongs from then on. It stood 1-1 as they entered the third round. Rocky lifted a boot toward his groin, but Roland fell to the side and grabbed her guitar. He broke it over her head. While she was crying about the guitar, he snuck up from behind and choked her with the cord. He took two weeks to recover, even though he won. His record: 20-15. She-male (six feet five, 215 pounds, 29 years old): Roland forfeited. His record: 20-16. Showgirl (six feet one, 125 pounds and 22 years old): She was two inches taller than him and 35 pounds lighter. Early in the first round, he had a chance, but she outlasted him and wore him down. While he was red in the face, she was morning fresh. What he hadn't counted on was her dancer legs and balance. Showgirl showed Roland more kinds of scissors hold than he knew existed. He ended up submitting over twenty times within a single hour. For her reward she took a groin licking and a foot massage (her feet were big and required a peppermint oil rub). His record: 20-17. Sky Goddess (Six feet seven, 215 pounds and eternal): Like Earth Goddess, Sky picked Roland up in her arms, but her embrace was lighter - he could breathe. That is, until she kissed him. Her kiss was tender, but the beauty of it made him forget to breathe. A single touch of her hand on his groin made him want to cum, but she would not let it happen. The torture was like nothing he could describe. He finally begged her for release. "Do you admit defeat for all three rounds?" she asked in a whisper. "YES!" Cradling him like a baby, she pushed his face down, slid his rock-hard tool between his own lips, and he came. She did not let up until he swallowed. He came so hard, his nuts hurt. He took a week off to recover. His record: 20-18. Slave (five feet six, 120 pounds and 21 years old): This poor girl was used to beatings. Roland didn't have the heart to be too rough on her. Her spirit was already broken. He twisted her arms until she begged for mercy, then let her go. She was so grateful, she insisted on washing his feet. "Weird." "Sorry Sir?" she asked. "You, Bitch. You're obviously strong. I want you to put up more of a fight." "If you say so, Sir." They stood. He charged. Slave spun Roland around and caught him in a hug, trapping his arms to his sides. She kneed him in the left butt-cheek and thigh repeatedly until he was crippled by a deep charley horse. I had to submit and beg for release. When she let go he fell to the floor. "Is that better, Sir?" she asked as she stood over him. He clenched his teeth and told her, "Lay down next to me." She complied. He slapped her face. She just took it. He grabbed her by her hair and banged her head against the floor. She just took it. Finally, he managed to sit up, He maneuvered onto her chest and slapped her repeatedly with a shoe until she begged for mercy. "Submit!" "Yes Sir! I submit!" "Weird." He fell off of her and held his throbbing ass. His record: 21-18. he took three days to recover. Southern Bell (Five feet five, 115 pounds and 19 years old): Gasping and running away, Southern Bell really never showed much fight. It was like she wanted to be taken, but had to run away for show. He "raped" her a few time, backhanding her and spanking her in order to wring out the required submissions. He took a day to recover. His record: 22-18. Soviet Spy (six feet even, 140 pounds and 30 years old): So long and graceful, like a snake raised up and ready to strike, Roland knew he was in trouble from the moment she stepped from his bedroom wearing nothing but a full length white mink coat lined in silk, and matching spike heels. Her trimmed muff showed she was a natural blonde. The only dark color on her was her deep red lips and nails. "Come to me, lover," she purred. Roland stepped forward as if hypnotized by her seductive beauty. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure. She embraced him, drawing him into her coat with her. And then she kissed him. As his world tilted, she drew up a knee and drove it into his sack. She continued kissing him passionately as he gasped for air. He slid to his knees before her, holding his scrotum. Soviet threw a leg over his shoulder and locked it around his neck. She placed her hands on the doorframe to steady herself as she strangled him with one leg. He could not break the hold with both hands. He had to tap out, because he could not speak. As he gasped, she bent down and whispered in his ear. "We can do dis de the easy vay, or de hard vay." "What's the easy way?" he gasped. "Is simple. You let me ride you around room, like pony, then you lick me and submit." Roland nodded. "I'll take it." Soviet smiled. "You are smart, for capitalist pig." For the final defeat, there was no easy way. Soviet had her heart set on pinning Roland to his kitchen table, strapping on a giant red penis and mounting him from behind. Roland struggled, but there really never was any question about it. Three weeks and two days to recover. His record: 22-19. Submissive Fawn (five feet even, 100 pounds and 18 years old): So tender and small. Roland took her up onto his lap. He smothered her with one hand as he stuffed his stiff member up her pie. He humped her as she passed out. She made no protest, nor did she struggle, much. It was a pleasant break from some of the beatings he had taken. His record: 23-19. Sword Lass (five feet ten, 125 pounds and 25 years old): A real fighter. Roland knew he was dead meat, even if she wasn't allowed to use a sword. In the beginning he bowed to her and admitted as much. Once she had beaten him into a quivering mass at her feet, she told him his early capitulation was why she had gone so easy on him. She admitted a desire to take him up the ass, but because he had admitted defeat early, and not been an ass, she allow him to mount her instead. Roland could not believe his luck. Despite is bruises, he managed to please Sword Lass several times before dawn claimed him to sleep. He took 6 days to recover. His record: 23-20. Tavern Wench (five feet eight, 145 pounds and 29 years old): Again, Roland mistook a serving role for someone who is subservient. Tavern Wench was used to fighting off many admirers at once while simultaneously carrying four full tankards and three loaded plates through a crowded room. Only once she had his head trapped up against her ample bosom did he notice that her biceps were much bigger than his own. Upper body strength was not his advantage. Nor was energy. Wench was a ball of laughing, fleshy fire. She lifted him over her head and cracked his back across her broad shoulders. She trapped him under her plump ass. She scissored his head and body. She twisted him into unnatural positions. By the time an hour was up, she had wrung a dozen submittal from him and didn't seem to notice. She was just wrecking him for the joy of it. Finally, he begged her to stop and she showed heart. She let him lap at her sweating quim and lick her to climax in exchange for his freedom. One week to recover. His record: 23-21. Teacher (five feet eleven, 140 pounds and 27 years old): Now, Roland was more careful. A prim authority figure as tall as himself, dressed in conservative clothes stood before him, slapping her palm with a ruler. "It is your misfortune, young man," she said, "that we allow corporal punishment in this institution." (SMACK went the ruler on her hand.) "This will go very hard for you." (SMACK!) Her eyes wondered down to his groin. Her cheeks blushed and her eyes returned to his. "Very hard indeed." (SMACK!) Roland backed up to a wall. "What have I done?" Teacher pushed her glasses up and fumed. "That is the last straw! Bend over that table and pull down your pants!" "I submit!" "Shut up and do as told young man!" (SMACK!) Roland made a run for it. Teacher caught him by the neck after three steps and hauled him over to his office desk. "Do as you are told!" (SMACK! That one found his ass.) Roland tried throwing an elbow at her head. Teacher blocked it and punched him in the ribs. He bent double. She guided his head to the desk. "Now, drop your pants." "Please, I submit," he whimpered. (SMACK!) Roland dropped his pants and quivered in fear. First, Teacher ran her soft hand all over his exposed bum, then down came the ruler (SMACK!). Roland howled and bucked, but Teacher held his head to the desk with one hand. (SMACK!) "PLEASE!" (SMACK!) Roland lost count. Finally, Teacher let him stand up. "There, there, now." She pulled a scented hanky from deep within her cleavage and handed it to Roland. "Blow." He used it to blow his nose. She stepped closer - very close. "Do you want to cry on my shoulder. Don't be ashamed." Roland cried out his pain, holding Teacher tight. He didn't fail to notice how Teacher's hands roamed his raw backside and shaking torso, however. Or how her thigh massaged his exposed boner into full, throbbing attention. When he picked up his head, she smiled at him as if none of this was going on. "Feeling better?" he nodded, though his ass was on fire. "Are you going to be a good boy, now?" she asked as one of her hands roamed down to tickle his sack. He gulped, and nodded. Her smile was so bright and cheerful. His desire for her so complete. "That's fine," she said. "I'm so glad we understand each other." Her hand was stroking his shaft. "There is just one more thing, however." "Anything," groaned Roland. Teacher grabbed his balls and crushed them in an iron hand. "Don't ever be so impertinent as to get sexually active in my presence again." When she let go, Roland crumpled to the floor. Another week to recover. His record: 23-22. Thumbelina (three feet even, 40 pounds, eternal): This started out as another vacation. Thumbelina was tiny, but perfectly formed and curvy, like seeing s normal sized woman from a block away. He clamped the little woman between his legs and squeezed. Nothing to brag about. It looked like she would submit until she yanked a hair from his balls. Thumbelina slipped away when Roland let go, yelping and hopping around. She slipped between his legs tripping him up. Then she jumped on his back and kicked him in the ribs. She took the sash from her dress and slipped into between his teeth, tying it behind his head. And damn did those kicks in the ribs hurt! He tried to shake her off, to grab at her, but she pulled at his head like he was a horse and kicked him again. Soon she had him winded. And his neck was so stiff he could only turn it where she pulled. She was riding him like a broken horse. When he tried to rub her off on something, she punished him with crippling kicks to the ribs. He had to submit, or she would break his ribs. He told himself he wouldn't let that happen again in the next round. But she tripped him up again and got her tight gams around neck, choking him. Her tiny fists pounded his face. He pushed against her tight little ass, but he couldn't budge her! He was almost ready to pass out when she let go. She slid up onto his mouth. "Lick me, Trigger," she snarled in her high voice. He considered making a move, but he could see she was ready to kick his ass if he tried. He submitted and licked. She let him up to his ands and knees, then turned and offered her tiny ass. He licked that too. He was beat and he knew it. Even on his hand and knees, he had to bend far over to get to her pert bottom. "That's 23 wins and 23 losses," said Thumbelina as he rimmed her butthole. "And only one match to go." "Yes,Mistress," he sighed. "Don't blame yourself. You're just a big, dumb animal, after all. I'm shocked, actually that you're tied at this stage. I'll bet if you ran through it again, you would get beet at least 5 more times than you did this time. You were lucky." Her tiny voice grated on his nerves, but he didn't argue. He knew Cheerleader, Schoolgirl, Pleasingly Plump and many others could have had the victory. Only one match to go. If he won this last one he would be in command of Millie's form - he could make her take any shape he wonted - do anything for him. If he lost, she would be in charge, and he would grant her one special wish. He wondered again what it was she wanted. Roland read the final girl's stats on his bus ride home and was feeling pretty confident. He had six inches and 65 pounds on her. And she seemed like a victim - like Slave. Virgin Sacrifice (five feet five, 115 pounds and 18 years old): "I've been looking forward to this," Roland growled as he circled her. "You may be a pathetic virgin cunt right now, but in a short while, you'll only be a pathetic cunt." Virgin smiled. "You think so? And just how do you think a girl with all this..." she indicated her curves... "has managed to remain a virgin?" Roland charged, but she sidestepped and kicked him in the ass as he flew by. "And, have you ever noticed it always takes two or three big men to get a young virgin up to a volcano even when she has her hands tied?" Roland tried to not let her eat at his confidence. He dove at her again, this time catching her ribs in his arms, knocking her back several steps. She dropped a double fisted punch to his back and dropped him to his knees, gasping for air. That blow had felt like a sledge hammer. She fell on him and slipped her legs around his neck and her arms around his middle. She got a knee under his chin, locked her legs and pulled on her high foot, squeezing his neck hard. He tapped out once he turned purple. "Damn it!" he snapped as he stood. "Ding ding! Here comes round two!" Virgin stepped forward, full of energy, and planted a bare foot in his face, knocking him on his ass. He saw stars and felt the earth tilt. She danced around him, letting him wobble to his feet. Then she spit on her knuckles and gave him a roundhouse punch to the side of the head. He dropped like a landed fish. She planted her rump over his face and waited for him to tap out again while she checked her nails. But Roland was desperate. He turned his face to the side and gulped air. "Up for more are we?" Virgin stood and pulled Roland up by his hair. He landed a hard punch to her tummy. She grunted, grabbed him in a reverse headlock and dropped backwards on his head. While stars swam in his eyes, Virgin stood and pulled Roland up by his hair, again. He got two shots into her bread basket this time. On of them cracked his knuckles. Virgin stuffed his head between her legs. Roland took a chance and lifted. With Virgin on his neck, he stood tall, then fell backward. She was rolling on the ground, in obvious pain, when he turned over. He slammed a fist into her forehead. With the last of his strength he dropped a knee into her gut and then caught her up in a choke. Virgin tapped out. Virgin circled him for the last round. "Don't get your hopes up. I've already won." She stalked Roland as he panted, tired to the bone. She stepped forward and planted a hard kick to his head. He hit the mat. She let him stand. Walked around him like she had all the time in the world. Roland was barely conscious, but he put up his fists. Virgin leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. He swung at her, but she ducked it. In response, she turned around and donkey kicked him in the gut. He flew back and made a whole in a wall. She pulled him out of the rubble and stuffed his face in between her hooters, holding him there long after he had submitted. Her laugh rang gleefully in his ear as he passed out. * * * When he came to, he could barely breathe, and he hurt all over. When he opened his eyes he knew why. "So, I don't get forced to lick Virgin's clam for hours?" "Sorry," Millie smiled down at him from her perch on his chest. "You don't get to touch Virgin again until you can beat her up." Roland sighed. And touched his tender jaw. "Doesn't look like that will happen soon." "No. But here's the good news! You get to grant my wish!" Roland smiled. Millie was truly happy, and that made him glad. "And what might that be?" "Buy another M360 Love Toy! Make it three more!" she said. "I want company." Roland gulped. "Three more of you?" "I haven't decided if I'll let you wake up the other MIL 360s - I like being unique in the house. But I want to play with some of the other girls." She smiled. "I'll even let you watch." Roland smiled. The future was looking bright.