Amanda - On the Prowl By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com This is the thirteenth installment in the 'Amanda' series. Two weeks went by and a package arrived for Amanda. It was from Ava and we opened it after dinner. Inside was a dozen swatches of material as well as a note which read; 'Mistress, please find enclosed swatches of fabric which I believe will satisfy your requirements for the 'catsuits.' I have enclosed the prints that this material comes in. Please let me know at your earliest convenience what you and Rhonda select,' and it was signed, 'Sincerely, Ava.' We each picked up one of the pieces of fabric. It felt thin, but when I pulled on opposite ends, it stretched much as elastic would. I held it against my thigh and pulled it tight across my skin. It seemed to conform to my skin. "Nice," I said, "It must be a synthetic." "I love it," Amanda said, "except it punctures easily." She had taken her index finger and put a hole through the swatch that Rhonda had held up. "You have to realize, mistress," Rhonda said, "you could put your finger through a plate of steel as easy as this fabric." "John, you try," Amanda said. Rhonda held up another piece of cloth and I poked it with my finger. The fabric bowed but didn't tear. I tried a second time, but I couldn't punch a hole through it. "See, mistress," Rhonda said, "you could penetrate it, but John couldn't. I want a 'catsuit' out of the black metallic material." Amanda sent a letter off to Ava telling her that the material was fine and which patterns were wanted by both her and Rhonda. Both mistresses' requested short sleeve suits without hoods. Amanda and Rhonda still had one name left on the list provided by Colleen Taylor, the sister of Sean Taylor, one of Biomax's Production Managers. Colleen was a county social worker who worked closely with battered women. The remaining name on the list of three that Colleen had given the two Amazon's was Mark Cahill. It seems Mr. Cahill loved to beat his wife Cynthia, especially after a night of drinking. This was becoming more and more frequent. The Cahill's lived on a well kept suburban street. 'Great neighborhood,' thought Amanda, 'except for the dirty little secrets that go on behind closed doors.' The pair sat in a car not far from the Cahill house. They had watched the home for several nights now, waiting to see if Mark left in the evenings. As luck would have it, this was the night. The pair followed at a discreet distance and the man drove directly to a strip club not ten miles from his house. "What now," Rhonda asked as she pulled in the lot. "Now we wait," Amanda said. The pair waited an hour, and then Rhonda said, "I need to take a pee," and got out of the car and headed for the back door. She entered through the back door. The dancer's dressing room was the first door she came to and she glanced in. One woman wearing a g-string and tie top was looking at her reflection in the mirror, a feather boa around her neck. "Well, hello gorgeous," the dancer said, seeing the reflection of Rhonda standing in the doorway. She turned and walked to Rhonda. The curvy blonde had on 4-inch platform heels, and swayed as she walked. When she reached Rhonda, she put one hand behind the Amazons head, drawing her close, and kissed her on the lips, her tongue probing Rhonda's. With her free hand, she placed it on Rhonda's breast. Rhonda responded by placing both hands on the dancer's butt and lifting her up. The blonde wrapped her legs around one of Rhonda's meaty thighs. With little effort, Rhonda carried the dancer into the dressing room and kicked the door shut. Fingering the muscle goddess' nipple, the dancer broke her kiss and said, "I'm Candy, honey, what do you want?" "Hi, Candy," Rhonda said, "I want to take a piss, find out if a guy is out front and fuck the hell out of you." Candy smiled and gave Rhonda's nipple a final squeeze and said, "I like that, sugar. The bathroom is two doors down, I'll check on your man if you describe him, and then you're all mine." Rhonda quickly described Mark Cahill and what he was wearing, then added, "But he's not my man, Candy." Rhonda used the bathroom as Candy went out front. By the time Rhonda was done, Candy came back to the dressing room. "He's pretty toasted," Candy said, "but he's still there. He has a thing for one of the other dancers." "So he's a regular here," Rhonda asked. "Oh, sure, he comes in once, twice a week, get's sloshed and drops about a hundred bucks," Candy said, "now what about you and I getting it on?" "How about you suck my pussy," Rhonda said, "I feel like I'm going to explode." Candy laughed, said nothing but got to her knees. She unsnapped Rhonda's shorts and pulled them down. "Hmm, nice," Candy said as she put a finger in Rhonda. Withdrawing it she placed the finger in her mouth. "You are sweet, honey," she said. For the next thirty minutes, Candy serviced Rhonda's throbbing pussy. Rhonda had three orgasms and Candy lapped all of her juices. Meanwhile, Mark Cahill, drunk as Candy had said, exited the back door, walking right past the dressing room Candy and Rhonda shared. Seeing Mark exit the building, Amanda got out of the car. She was only three cars away from Mark's. "Hey, stud," Amanda called, "leaving so soon?" Mark, thinking Amanda one of the dancers coming on to him, said, "Yea, I've got to get home to that bitch, but I'll be back." By now, Amanda was standing in front of Mark. They were the same height. He said, "Are you new here, I haven't seen you around." "Yes, I'm new here," Amanda said and smiled, "what do you think?" and raised her arms above her head allowing Mark to take in her bare midriff and muscular legs. "You're big," he said, "and you'll make a ton on the dance floor." "Oh, how sweet, sugar," Amanda said, and rather than lowering her arms, she put them around Mark's neck and drew him close to her body, then whispered in his ear, "I'm not just big, you cock sucker, but I'm strong, very strong," and she hugged the man. "Hey, let go, stop, you're hurting me," Mark pleaded. Amanda had his arms pinned to his side. She continued to squeeze, slowly, relishing every moment. "Help!" Mark yelled, or at least he tried to yell, but what came out was a feeble whisper as Amanda's powerful arms crushed the air from his lungs. Amanda could tell that she had broken several ribs and Mark was beginning to moan. If there had been a car pull in the lot or had someone exited the bar, the pair would have looked like two lovers in an embrace. Instead it was one lover, and her love was only for the domination she had over this man. The Amazon released her powerful hold on him and he slumped to the pavement, gasping to fill his lungs. Amanda looked down at Mark and said, "You really are a worthless piece of shit. You beat your wife and sneak off to a strip club. Why I even bet you think you have a girlfriend in there, don't you?" After several seconds, Mark said, "Is this what it's all about, me hitting my wife?" The question came out as a wheeze. "Yeah, jerk-off, that's what this is all about. Your beating of your wife. You're a pathetic wimp," Amanda said and kicked him in the stomach. "Ugh," he said, and curled into a fetal position at Amanda's feet. A trickle of blood was oozing from the corner of his mouth. "Please lady," he wheezed, "no more." Amanda laughed briefly and smiled as she looked down at him, then pulling her leggings down began to fondle her clit. "I'm going to show you what this goddess can do," Amanda said as she now stroked her shaft, "you deserve to be humiliated." She directed her stream of piss at the man's head and as much as he tried to move out of the way, he couldn't. "Drink my piss, you worthless bitch," Amanda said as she finished. The back door opened and Rhonda came out, buttoning her shorts. She saw Amanda just pulling up her leggings. "I see you had to piss too," Rhonda said, and laughed looking down at the man on the ground. "Yeah," Amanda said, "and I taught Mark here about humiliation." "He smells like piss," Rhonda said. "No matter, it isn't as if anyone will care," Amanda said as she took a step forward and kicked the man in the head. The kick actually lifted his head from the pavement and it fell back with a sickening thud. Mark now lay still on the pavement. Amanda lifted her leg and put the heel of her boot in his ear and stepped down. When she pulled her boot free, a trail of blood flowed from the ear, fanning out across the pavement. "That should do it," Amanda said, "one less domestic violence call that the police will need to respond to in the future." She wiped her heel across the seat of Marks pants to clean it of blood. The pair got back in their car and drove home. On the way, Rhonda told Amanda about Candy. "She said that Mark was a regular there, that one of the dancers was his girlfriend or at least someone he lusted after and that he would usually drop a hundred dollar every time he came in," Rhonda said. "That figures, his wife, Cynthia, will be far better off," Amanda said. Several days later, Amanda and Rhonda went to check on Jane Young at United Labs. "Mistress Amanda, Mistress Rhonda, how nice to see you," Jane said as the two were shown to Jane's office. "How are things going, Jane," Amanda asked, "Is Hal and Junior behaving themselves?" Jane smiled and said, "Yes, ever since you humiliated them they've pretty much kept to themselves and haven't made any problems." "Good, good," Amanda said, "and has anyone else been giving you problems?" "No, everything is good here at United," Jane said, "that 'old boys club' image that United had for so long is gone. Anyone who would have caused problems is gone now." "I'm glad to hear that, let Rhonda or I know if you need help with anything, Jane," Amanda said. "I will, and again, thanks for allowing me this opportunity," Jane said, and embraced Amanda. Amanda said, "It was the right thing to do, you were the right person to head United, not the Smith's." Amanda and Rhonda were on their way out when they passed the office of Hal and Junior. The pair looked like they were busy on their computers. Amanda stepped into their office. "Are you wimps behaving yourselves," Amanda asked. The two men turned and then looked away, "Yes, mistress," they said in unison. That night when they got home, a package was waiting for them. It was from Ava. Their 'catsuits' had arrived. With a fingernail, Amanda sliced through the tape holding the box shut. On top was a note from Ava that read, 'I enjoyed making these for you, Mistress Amanda and Mistress Rhonda. Please accept them as my gift to you. Also, there is a small envelope for John.' And it was signed, 'Your humble servant, Ava.' "Isn't that nice," Amanda said, "They're a gift from Ava," and she took their 'catsuits' from the box. On the bottom of the box was a mailing envelope with my name on it. Mistress Amanda handed it to me. I opened it and brought out a tiger print thong in the same material as the 'catsuits.' A note fluttered to the floor and I picked it up. It read, 'To the big cat of the house,' and it was signed simply, 'A'. Amanda looked at me and smiled. "Well," she said, "I guess you made an impression on Ava. Try it on, John." I removed the thong I was wearing and pulled up the one Ava had sent. The material clung to my penis like a second skin. "Gorgeous," Rhonda said, running a hand over the thin material, "If ours fit as well, I think the next time Ava comes to visit, John should give her a proper thank you." Amanda laughed and said, "I suppose you're right," as she pulled the catsuit over her broad shoulders. Amanda stood in front of us. The suit looked as if it had been painted on her magnificent body. "I'm getting hot just looking at you, mistress," Rhonda said, "but you always make me hot." Amanda smiled and running both hands over her chest and down her abs to her pelvic area said, "It feels as if I'm wearing nothing at all." Rhonda pulled on her suit and it fit equally as well. Both women looked amazing as evidenced by my growing erection. I thought my shaft would burst through the material but it was held fast until I allowed the head to escape beyond the elasticized waistband. Amanda, noticing my erection placed one leg in front of the other and tightened her already taut abdominals. Again, the catsuit material hugged each muscle of her midsection. "Come John," she breathed seductively, "shoot your load for your mistress." Within seconds I erupted, shooting a burst of semen several feet in the air. Amanda chuckled and ran her index finger along the head of my penis, capturing a drop, and putting it in her mouth. "Umm," she said, "Sweet as ever." The phone interrupted the mood. Howard came into the room and said to Amanda, "Mistress, it's a Colleen Taylor on the phone for you, she says it's urgent." "Thank you, Howard," Amanda said and went to the desk and picked up the phone. Howard stood there looking at me in my tiger print thong and Rhonda in her zebra print catsuit and I thought I saw the beginning of an erection in his panties. Rhonda must have noticed it as well because she went to him and cupping his penis and scrotum whispered in his ear, "Go on, Howard, you may come," and he did, soaking the material. His face reddened and Rhonda said, "No need to be embarrassed, Howard, just lick your cum from my fingers," and she held out her fingers for him to clean. He wasted no time cleaning them of his cum and when he was done, turned and scurried away. 'It's amazing the power these two Amazons have over men and women,' I thought, 'that they can make them climax or pleasure them by just telling them to do so, it's really quite remarkable.' Amanda finished her conversation with Colleen Taylor and hung up. "I've got to run out for a while," she said, "I'll be back shortly," and with that she was gone. Amanda drove to the address Colleen had given her, and as she got out of the car, she heard a loud crash come from inside the house. She mounted the front steps two at a time and burst through the front door. A man wearing tan work pants and a tank top was at a closed door. He turned when he heard the front door burst inward. "Wh-what the hell," he said, "Who are you?" Amanda advanced on the man and when she reached him, said, "What do you think you're doing?' Not waiting for an answer, she clamped her hand around his throat. "Margaret, are you in there," Amanda said. A faint whimper and then a soft, "Yes, yes, I'm here," from a woman's voice on the other side of the door. "You can come out now," Amanda said, "I've got hold of your husband." After several seconds, the door opened a crack and a small thin woman peered out. She was clad in bra and panties and had several bruises on her body, but the most sever appeared to be her puffy right eye. The eye, almost swollen shut was a nasty purple. "Who are you," she asked. "It doesn't matter who I am, in fact its best you don't know, but I can assure you that this will be the last time Don here will hit you." The man was squirming, trying to break free of the grip on his throat, but no matter what he did, he couldn't break free. "You don't have to stay, Margaret, this is going to get ugly," Amanda said. "What do you mean, 'get ugly'?" the woman asked. "There's only one cure for this kind of disease, and that's to kill your husband," Amanda said. Both Margaret and Don seemed to be holding their breath, while their minds raced thinking about that. Then they both spoke at once, "Wh-what, wait, you can't kill me," Don said, at the same time his wife said, "Please, don't kill him." Amanda looked at the woman and asked, "How many times has he hit you in the last month, the last year? He'll continue to beat you until you die, then he'll simply find another woman to beat on. You know he will." "No, no he won't," Margaret said, "this will be the last time, won't it Don?" "Yes, I swear," the man said, and Amanda squeezed his neck a little harder and he choked and said, "Can't breathe." Amanda's attention was now focused on the man and Margaret retreated to the dining room. With just her left hand she began to choke the man. Then she was struck across her back. Amanda turned and Margaret was holding the leg of what use to be a straight back wooden chair. The chair had shattered across Amanda's massive back. Margaret held the chair leg as if it were a sword pointed at the muscle goddess. "Let him go, lady," Margaret said, "or I'll hit you again." Amanda gave Don's neck another squeeze, holding the grip for several seconds, then let the man fall to the ground. Margaret, momentarily distracted, looked down at her husband, allowing Amanda to snatch the remnant of the chair from her grasp. Holding the wooden leg and back in both hands, Amanda snapped it like a match and tossed it aside. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Margaret?" Amanda asked. Rather than answer, the small woman rushed Amanda, fists clenched and pounded on the muscled chest. Amanda grabbed the woman by the arms and threw her across the living room. She landed in a heap, but got up and rushed Amanda again, putting her head and shoulder down at the last minute. Margaret may as well have run into a wall. She bounced off and once again landed on the floor. Don was coming around now and staggered to his feet. He had caught a glimpse of his wife running into Amanda and hitting the floor. "You bitch," he shouted, and hit Amanda in the abs, first with a right, then left and then a left again. The blows had no effect and Amanda only looked at him. She pushed him aside and Don caromed off the wall. As Amanda turned, Margaret came at her with a fireplace poker. Amanda saw it too late as the small woman swung it at her abs. Amanda and her catsuit absorbed the impact, and then she reached down and yanking the poker from the woman's hands, bent it in two. Don jumped on Amanda's back and Margaret jumped slightly grabbing the big woman around the neck, but Amanda managed to get hold of one of Margaret's arms and pulled her from her chest. Amanda backed into a wall, buckling the sheetrock, but successfully dislodging Don. "OK, play time is over," Amanda said, picking Don up once again by the neck. She lifted him off the floor and held him so that he was above her head. The man was losing air rapidly, but just as he passed out, Amanda allowed him to drop to the floor. Now standing over him as he struggled for breath, she said, "You're a son of a bitch, Don. I've crushed bigger and better men than you. You're just a pussy." She reached down and taking the man by the ankle, held him inverted off the ground. Turning, she walked to the glass coffee table and with a quick movement downward, drove his head into the glass table top. Don instinctively clutched at his skull, but Amanda repeated it two, three, and then a fourth time. Each time with a little more force until that fourth time when the coffee table shattered. By this time, the man was unconscious. She tossed him against a wall as one would discard a used towel. Now moving in on the woman, still laying near the couch, Margaret said, "Keep away from me you animal." "I came here to help you, and you attack me," Amanda said, "What's wrong with you?" "You wanted to take my man away," Margaret said, "I can't let that happen." Amanda cocked her head and looked down at the woman. "You think I came to steal your man?" Amanda asked. "Yes," the small woman sobbed. Amanda laughed, "No offense, but what would I want with that piece of shit?" Now the woman was sobbing uncontrollably. Amanda walked over and crouched down by Don. A large gash was oozing blood from his head wound. Amanda felt his carotid artery for a pulse. She didn't feel one. 'Dead,' she thought. Returning to Margaret, she scooped her up and laid her on the couch, then sat beside her. "I'm sorry, Margaret, but Don is gone. He's dead," and the small woman's eyes filled with tears. "What am I going to do, who's going to look after me," she asked. "You'll do just fine, Margaret," Amanda said, "You'll see. He won't beat up on you any longer and you'll meet a nice man who will take care of you, someone that will love you as much as you love him." "Really?" she asked, "Do you really think so?" "I know it," Amanda said, "Now I really have to be going. I want you to call the police and when they get here, tell them Don tripped during a domestic dispute and fell through the coffee table, OK?" "Yes," she said unsteadily. Amanda went to the phone, which lay on the floor and dialed Colleen's cell. It was answered in a minute. "Something happened," Amanda said, "Margaret attacked me. She thought I was here to take Don away." "Are you all right," Colleen asked. "No, I'm fine, but Don is dead and Margaret is on the couch," Amanda said, "I don't think it's a good idea for her to tell the cops that I was here." "No, you're right, I'll be there in five minutes," Colleen said, "I should have told you that Margaret can be a handful, she attacked a police officer when he went to take Don into custody. Stay there, I'm on my way." Once Amanda had hung up, she went back and sat with Margaret. 'Now she tells me about this woman's frame of mind,' Amanda thought. Colleen walked in the ruined front door minutes later. Amanda stood up and Margaret got off the couch and went and hugged the social worker. Colleen looked around the living room; the shattered coffee table, the broken chair, the bent poker and of course the body against the wall. She pried herself away from the small woman and holding her at arm's length said, "Margaret, listen to me, Don is gone. No one will hurt you again, do you understand?" Margaret only nodded. "You're finally free to get on with your life," Colleen said, "You have a new lease on life. Now I want you to pack a suitcase and come with me. I'm going to take you to a women's shelter that will look after you, do you understand?" Again, only a nod, but she walked toward the bedroom. Colleen looked at Amanda, and then placed the palm of her hand on the Amazon's chest. "Thank you, mistress," she said, "I should have told you about Margaret's fragile state." "Yes, I wish you would have," Amanda said, "perhaps I could have gotten her out of the house on the pretext of just talking to Don." "No, she never let Don get out of her sight," Colleen said, "It's a very complex relationship." "One that I will never understand," Amanda said. She then took Colleen's wrist and moved her hand down her abs to her pussy. Amanda was looking directly into Colleen's eyes, "When you get Margaret settled, come by the house and this is yours," Amanda said. "I'm not sure I can wait," Colleen responded, "But you must," Amanda said, "Take care of your client first, but don't be long." "No mistress," Colleen said. Colleen and Margaret left in Colleen's car; Amanda replaced the front door as best she could, then moved the hutch from the dining room up against the door. She exited through the back door, but not before checking Don for a pulse one more time. She felt a faint pulse. Amanda lay on the floor and taking Don by the hair, placed his head between her vise like thighs. She squeezed and was rewarded with an audible 'pop' as his skull fractured. She checked for a pulse one more time and finding none, left.