My Story - Part 15
By Muscle Fan, covert.1@hotmail.com
A short story of a coed muscle goddess.


The four of us drove back to the hotel room. We only had another full day to
stay, then we needed to head back to our apartment and school. It had been a
fun, relaxing and sometimes action-packed spring break. Jane, Jeremy and I had
beautiful tans. The micro-bikini's I had worn looked like I had no tan lines.
Jane, normally fair skinned had a glow to her and Jeremy, who before the trip
had stated he didn't care about lying around the pool had become as much of a
'sun worshipper' as I am.

This particular day, we found that we were the only ones by the pool. The
hotel was pretty much deserted. I had on my skimpiest micro-kini, I'll call
it. It was brown in color and from a distance or at a casual glance it looked
like I was naked. Jeremy wore the zebra print brief that Tami had made him,
and Jane, normally reserve, wore a high-waisted thong with a giraffe print, if
you can believe that.

Tami would be by later to take my measurements to get started on a 'cat suit'
and I looked forward to seeing her one more time.

As we were lying there, I said, "You know, I have a confession to make. Last
night when you two thought Tami and I were in the bathroom at the restaurant
having sex, we were actually out in the parking lot killing a pervert." Jane
and Jeremy immediately became wide-eyed. I went through the entire story about
the man grabbing Tami and trying to get her blouse off and how I beat him to a
pulp, finally crushing him beneath my stilletto heels. I didn't go into all
the gory stuff. "And you know," finishing my story, "I really enjoyed it. I
felt so powerful, so in control, so alive." "But Mistress," Jane said, "You're
always in control and powerful." "Yes, I know," I said, "But this was somehow
different. It was as if I was crushing a bug. Getting a pervert or degenerate
off the street. Doing a public service."

"Thanks for telling us, Mistress," Jeremy said, "I hope no one saw you." "No,"
I replied, "no one came to help the creep." "What did Tami say?" Jane asked.
"It's not what she said, it's what she did," I said, "Before I finished him
off, she squatted over his face and pissed in his mouth." "She did not!" Jane
exclaimed. "Yes she did," I said and looked at Jeremy who was now trying to
hide his bulging cock. 'It was the mention of pissing on him that got Jeremy
aroused' I thought. "She squatted just above his face and must have pissed a
gallon. I thought he was going to drown, but he didn't," I said, smiling to
myself.

"I'll be right back," Jeremy said, "I have to go to the room." Once he was
safely out of earshot, I said to Jane, "Do you know about Jeremy's fetish to
be pissed on?" "He does not!" she exclaimed. "I'm afraid so," I said, and Jane
watched him leave the pool area. She got up and said, "I'm going to ask him
myself, Mistress," and followed Jeremy to the room.

No sooner had Jeremy entered the room than he stood in front of the mirror
looking at his reflection. Jane entered and walked up behind him. "What's
going on, Jeremy," she said, "Mistress said you have a fetish to be pissed on,
is that true?" Averting her eyes, he said, "Yes, it's true, I love to be
pissed on. I can't explain it." "Oh, Jeremy, why didn't you tell me?" Jane
said, "If that's what you want, I'm only too willing to do it." Jeremy
couldn't believe his ears. Next to Amanda, Jane was the love of his life.
"Let's go to the bathroom, you'll need to help me with what I should do," Jane
said. And so Jane was indoctrinated in one of Jeremy's fetishes.

Amanda rolled over on her stomach and undid the string of her top. John, the
young man from the workout center came by. "Hey, John, how are you?" Amanda
said. "OK, Amanda," he replied, but I could tell something was bothering him.
I raised up on my elbows, "Sit down, John, tell me what's on your mind," I
said. He sat and was immediately drawn to my chest.

"Well," he said, "My mom and dad are arguing again. Dad's down here on
business and mom and I tagged along, but they argue a lot. I shouldn't say
anything, but he hits her. I'm afraid he may hurt her." "Tie my top, John," I
told him, "then I'm going to your room and have a talk with your parents." "I
don't know if that's such a good idea, Amanda," he said as he tied my top,
"That will just make dad more angry." "I can't just do nothing, John, come on,
let's go," I said and we headed off for their room.

We got to the door and John had his key ready. I could hear raised voices and
then a slap that was loud enough to be heard in the hall. I grabbed the key
card away from John and opened the door. John's mom was on the bed, his dad
standing over her. She had a rivelet of blood running from the corner of her
mouth. She was a mousy woman with big brown eyes. He was about 6'-2" with a
slight paunch and balled fists.

"What the hell," he exclaimed, "Who are you?" Then he saw John behind me. "Is
she a friend of yours, John?" he said to the young man. I held up my hand
before John could speak. "I am a friend of your son's, and he's concerned for
his mother's well being," I said, "I must say, it looks like you need some
obedience lessons." "Obedience lessons," he said, "Get out, my wife and I are
just having a discussion." "Is that what you call it?" I asked, taking another
step closer to the man. I backhanded him across the mouth, not putting much
power behind it, but his head snapped back and I was happy to see that he now
had a bit of blood at the corner of his mouth. "How do you like it, asshole?"
I asked. "Why you bitch!" he said and bulled his way toward me.

He hit me in the abs, but it hurt his fist more than it hurt me. I grabbed his
neck and held him out from me. I looked at John's mom and said, "Are you all
right, ma'm? What do you want me to do with this guy?" "I don't know," she
whimpered, "he just hits me. I want him to stop." I turned my attention back
to the husband, I lifted him off the ground. He was gagging and running out of
air with my hand around his throat. "What's it going to be, are you going to
continue to beat your wife or are you going to leave?" I asked him and dropped
him like a sack of potatoes. It was a full three minutes before he could
speak. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you have no business coming in
here and pushing me around or telling me what to do," he said.

I looked at the woman and shrugged, then turning my attention back to the man
on the floor, said, "I'm Amanda, John's friend. He was concerned for his
mother's safety and from what I see, that concern was justified. You like to
demean and abuse women. It may be that you stem from an abusive home yourself,
but it will stop and it will stop right now, do you understand?" I then
reached down and grabbed him by his shirt collar and whispered to him, "If I
ever hear of you abusing your wife, son or another woman again, I'll come back
and kill you, do you understand?" "Yes, I understand he said," visibly
terrified. Apparently I had been right. He had come from an abusive home, one
in which he suffered constant beatings.

I let go of his shirt and he fell back to the carpet. I stood there with my
hands on my hips. "Now why don't you appologize to your wife and son, then
I'll get out of here," I said. He did and it sounded heartfelt enough, but
more importantly, both John and his mother seemed to accept it. Before
leaving, I wrote my number on a piece of paper and gave it to John, telling
him to call me if his dad got out of line again. He promised he would.

Back in our room, I marveled at how an abusive relationship had been averted.
Perhaps I should change my major to psychology where I can help abused women
in their struggle to maintain decency and maybe hone in on the root of the
problem, destroying abusive husbands. It gave me something to think about.

The following day, we ate, packed and checked out heading back to the college
life. Spring break had gone by too fast, but one thing I found was that I had
a real passion for dominating and destroying creeps and perverts like the man
at the restaurant that assaulted Tami. 'They need to pay for their wrong
doings', I thought.