Carol, Andy, Benjy and Jimmie 


Copyright (c) Rabbit Productions, 1995, 1996 

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Copyright: This story is copyright 1996 by the author, Sam Rabbit, under 
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Introduction 

This is a love story, kind of. But, as sometimes happens in life, the 
love is asymmetric; A loves C, but C doesn't love A. Actually, it's 
worse, because B loves C as well, but C doesn't love B either. It's also 
about pain, fear and humiliation. It's also about sex, and about 
violence. It's about women, men, and their relationships with each 
other. 

If you don't like sex, don't read on. If you don't like violence, don't 
read on. If you don't like strong, hard women who dominate men through 
pain, fear and humiliation, applied with their big, powerful muscles, 
don't read on. If very large female thighs offend you, don't read on. 

Note: Metrication is on the way - you'll have to get used to it sooner 
or later. If you don't know what a centimetre is, there are 2.54 of them 
to the inch, and there are 2.20 pounds to the kilogram.  If you have 
trouble converting pounds to kilograms, and inches to centimetres, get a 
calculator ready before reading on, or you'll get really frustrated. 




Carol, Andy, Benjy and Jimmie 

Copyright (c) Rabbit Productions, 1995, 1996 

Chapter 1 - Jimbo on the beach 

JIMBO: 

Don't you just hate it when a six foot bully kicks sand in your face? 
Yeah, but isn't it most excellent to be the sand-kicker! That was me - 
often on the beach I'd jump too close to someone just to see the fear in 
their eyes. Being 240 pounds helps too, and not much of it on the gut, 
either, know what I mean? I work out. The girls love it, and I get 
through plenty of cunt, know what I mean? What I like best of all is 
scaring off the man, so the girl thinks he's a wimp, and I'm some sort 
of hero. I can't understand why a girl would worship a tough bastard 
like me, but they do, and that suits me. 

Blondes are my favorite, big busty blondes with long silky hair and long 
silky legs. Long silky legs, and soft, silky hands. Gentle, silky hands, 
and a wet, silky cunt. I like to get on top of a girl and fuck her till 
she passes out, it's a great feeling of power when she screams, spasms, 
and blacks out from the combination of low oxygen and extreme sensation. 
Wendy is my current broad, a most excellent bodacious broad. She is 5-
11, legs up to her armpits, and hair down to her bum. Breasts that just 
went out and out, and orgasms that just went on and on. On the beach, in 
a bikini, she attracts the guys like wasps round a jam pot, which was 
fine by me, since I get into plenty of fights over her. I like fighting 
- I mean, I liked fighting. I like the feeling when my fist smashes into 
something soft, making it softer, and then again, making it really 
squishy. I like it when the other guy caves in and lets you hit him 
wherever you like. Ribs are always good, and you bring up some great 
bruises without hurting your hands. Faces are great, because you see 
lots of damage, and it screws the guy up big time. Wendy got me into 
some great fights. 

I like to see the fear in their eyes when I take off my shirt, when they 
see the size of my arms and chest, when they know they've bitten off too 
much, when they start to wonder if they should back down. I don't give 
them the chance, though. A couple of punches and the fight's over, but 
not the pain. The fight ends when they can't defend themselves, but 
that's when the fun really begins. And there's no way their girlfriend 
can look them in the eye afterwards, but she's ripe for the picking by a 
real man. What's better than fucking a gorgeous girl? Fucking two, of 
course. Wendy didn't mind if I took the winner's prize to bed, she was a 
sport, she'd even join the fun. 

I'm playing ball with a couple of buddies on the beach; lovely day, hot 
but dry heat, you know? Down comes this bodacious broad, and I mean 
drool time. Legs, tits, hair, everything just right, except she musta 
been scared of the sun, so it was all covered up, kind of a flowered 
shift thing. And this really dumb hat, you know, as big as a wagon 
wheel. And with her, this complete wimp, a total Henry, I can't think 
what she sees in him. His waist was about the size of my bicep, and the 
rest of him was pretty poor too. And he'd been in a fight - black eye, 
bruise on his scrawny rib, limping. I kept looking over at them, 
thinking she couldn't really be much good if she put up with him, so 
come on, darling, get them off, let's have a good look at what you got. 

But she just lay face down on a towel, and I figure Wendy would make 
three of her, so me and my buddies play ball. Until running for a high 
one, I tread on the wimp, and he jumps up and starts giving me mouth. 
"Hey, feller," I say. "Lighten up, fuckhead. You shouldna been in the 
way. Fuckheads like you should stay off the beach." I push him out of my 
way, and he gets mad, takes a swing, and unlucky for him, he connects. I 
say unlucky, because anyone would lose their temper after being socked 
in the hooter, even by a wimp. So I grab his arm, and hit him a couple 
of times in the gut to make him nice and soft, and then I start on him 
good and proper, you know? One hand to hold his arm to keep him in 
place, the other fist smashing down again and again, till he's coughing 
blood. 

My big mistake is not finishing him off. I hold him up, and pull back my 
other hand, to let him see it coming. He's really scared, really really 
terrified. I like it when they look like that - sometimes I can even get 
them to wet themselves. He must have thought his last minute had come. 
He screams, not too loud, his lungs and gut are too damaged. But like a 
cat when you set fire to its tail, you know the sound? The scream 
doesn't last long, my fist sees to that. But the problem is, it wakes up 
the girl. Well, I don't think it's a problem at first. 

She stands up, and sees the bloody thing in my grip. Her eyes widen, and 
she says "Andy?". I drop his body; still alive, I think, but who cares? 
"What's your name, pretty girlie?" I ask - dames always like it when you 
know their names. "Carol. Carol Sherwood" she says. "That's a pretty 
name, Carol", I say - that's always a good line. I stroll towards her, 
holding out my hand. "Come here, girlie. Meet a real macho man." 

I put my arms round her. They usually struggle a bit at first, but Carol 
must have been too scared of what she'd seen me do to Andy, I guessed. 
She looked up at me, then down at her ex-boyfriend. "Did you do that?" 
she asks, at the same time feeling my big hard muscles. I step back a 
couple of paces so she could admire the view. I flex my arms, so she 
could see my huge 16 inch biceps, and my massive 23 inch thighs. Girls 
really go for that, I can tell you. Nothing like a hunk of muscle to get 
them ready for hide-the-sausage. "I certainly did! He was as soft as a 
baby, like punching jelly." 

"Oh, OK", says Carol, and she smiles invitingly up at me. I could see 
this was going to be great. I love submissive girlies. Even better, she 
took off her hair band, and shook her hair free. I lick my lips - long, 
blonde, soft, sexy, and all mine. Then she starts taking off her shift, 
and I think unfuckingbelievable, she wants it right now. I've seen dames 
getting turned on by a bit of blood and violence, but she's getting 
ready to do it here on the beach. She pulls the shift over her head, and 
stands there half naked, just a T-shirt and a pair of panties. I check 
out her breasts, and they were high and firm, big and bouncy, even 
better than Wendy. "Hey, Wendy, lookee here", I say. "You're number two 
now." I look back at Carol, my erection beginning to grow. I can barely 
take my eyes off her fantastic tits, and she can see the effect she's 
having. She puts her hands up behind her head, twisting her hair, and 
throwing her breasts out like I've never seen before. And then I manage 
to drag my eyes off her prime assets, and notice her arms. 

This is simply not possible. Her arms are just huge. I mean, mine are 
big, and I could almost say her were bigger! That's simply not possible 
on a girlie, it must be just fat, yeah, women have a lot of fat all over 
their bodies. But her waist doesn't look fat, and her belly looks like 
you could break rocks on it. And her thighs. I couldn't take my eyes off 
her thighs. They looked as hard and thick as telegraph poles. Jesus, 
what would happen if you got caught between that pair of nutcrackers? Oh 
wow, they look bigger than her waist. And I look at her arms again, and 
realised it isn't fat, it's muscle. This girl is built like a tank, 
she's got muscles I'm jealous of, and then I notice that she's walking 
towards me, still smiling happily. 

Chapter 2 - Andy on the beach 

ANDY: 

I was soaking up the sun, letting the healing rays warm my battered 
body. I'm never sure whether Carol means to hurt me so much, or if she 
just doesn't understand how soft and weak Benjy and I are compared to 
her. She was asleep next to me, which was nice. Carol asleep means no 
pain for me, and I can admire her bulging muscles without having to 
endure their power. Relaxed, Carol is one of the prettiest and most 
feminine women I've ever seen; tensed and flexed she's the most 
terrifying sight you've ever seen. Last night, in spite of my desperate 
efforts to get free, her legs had been locked round me when she 
climaxed. She hadn't meant to hurt me, I'm sure, because if she had, I 
wouldn't still be walking. Her thighs are like an iron vise, and it 
still hurt to breath. But after she came, she held me gently in her 
arms, and whispered to me, and I love her more than I can say. Carol was 
wearing a pretty red dress, flowing and flowery. In her big floppy hat, 
she looked more like a fashion model than a man crusher. 

Suddenly, a ton weight landed on my chest, hurting nearly as much as 
when Carol hugs me. I jumped up, and there was this great bear of a man, 
sneering at me. I told him to be more careful, someone could get hurt, 
and he took a swing at me, landing on the shoulder that Carol had been 
gripping last night when she came, so you can imagine it was badly 
bruised. 

I just reacted without thinking. You might think it's insane for a 
little guy like me to throw a punch at a big brute like that, but 
remember I'm used to living with Carol, so he didn't look at all 
frightening to me. I went for his nose, something soft. I know what 
hitting Carol's stomach feels like - not much for her, painful hand for 
me. If it were Carol, her hand would trap my fist, and squeeze, but this 
guy didn't even move, and I got in a good one. But only one. 

He was a lot bigger, and a lot stronger than me. He hit me in the gut, 
and that was the end as far as fighting was concerned. But then he held 
me up with one hand and battered at me with his other fist; big, heavy 
punches that shot through my body, taking my breath away and leaving me 
helpless. He seemed to want to smash me up really bad, and he was really 
enjoying himself. But them he made a mistake. He slowly pulled back his 
hand, and let me see it coming. That gave me enough time to draw in half 
a ragged breath and scream "Carol". Then his fist landed, and the world 
went black. 

CAROL: 

Last night was totally great. Andy really knows how to give a woman huge 
orgasms; he's been my number one boy for several weeks now, and I've 
been trying real hard not to hurt him. He can keep me going for a couple 
of hours at a time; not just with his dick, of course, but he knows what 
to do with his nose, hands, tongue and so forth. And I think the extra 
exercise is good for me, even without the weights. But a boy with broken 
ribs isn't much use, so I've been real careful not to hug him too hard, 
and I was real gentle last night while he was between my thighs. Not 
gentle enough, though. It's terrible the way they just seem to turn into 
squishy mush when I get them between my thighs. What am I supposed to 
do? Afterwards I could tell I'd hurt him again. He wasn't complaining, 
but I could tell that his breathing was painful, so I must have hurt him 
with my legs. Also, I'd been gripping his upper arm without realizing 
it, and the bruise was purple and black. Sometimes I wonder why my 
darling boys put up with the way I hurt them. 

So I took him down to the beach; maybe a long soak in the sun would help 
him get himself together, because I wanted him recovered for the 
evening's activities, which I hoped with be long, lingering and with 
lots of orgasms. I think regular orgasms help keep you fit. Well, they 
don't make you less fit. I don't like to get too much sun; you read 
stuff about skin cancer. So I wore a long cotton dress down to my 
ankles, long sleeves, big floppy hat, and I lay on my towel, put my hat 
over my head to keep the sun out, and dozed off. 

The next thing I knew, someone was screaming my name. 

I jumped up, and there was Andy, covered in blood, looking like he'd 
been through an abattoir, being held up by some great obnoxious ox with 
a big shit-eating grin all over his face. "Andy?" I said, just to let 
him know I was here. But Andy was out of it. As soon as the ox let go of 
him, he fell in a heap on the ground, and I knew that tonight wasn't 
going to be a replay of last night, and that I wasn't going to get my 
jollies, and that I wanted someone to pay for this. 

Then the ox asked me my name, and called me "girlie". This is going to 
be fun, I thought. He walked toward me with his hand out, and I thought 
of taking it in mine and showing him what happens when you get your hand 
caught in a mangle, but then I thought about Andy, and I wanted more, 
lots more. He put his arms round me, and I looked up at him, and felt 
his soft muscles, softer than a ripe peach, and just as easy to bruise. 
Then I looked down at Andy, and thought about what I'd be missing for 
the next few weeks. I wanted to get this perfectly clear, and asked the 
ox if that was his handiwork. 

He stepped back a couple of paces, and struck a pose, showing off his 
soft flabby arms. I looked down at Andy, and thought that making this ox 
into a humiliated, sobbing husk filled with fear and pain was going to 
be the only fun I would have for a while, so I better make it long and 
languid. So I smiled my sexiest smile at him, and did the thing with my 
hair that turns men on, and I could see him reacting like they all do. 
Time to dance, I thought. I took off my dress, and let him see my half-
naked body. For a long time, he couldn't take his eyes off my breasts, 
and he said something humiliating to his girlfriend. I could see the 
bulge in his shorts growing, so I raised my arms to my hair, pushing my 
shoulders back a bit, pushing my breasts forward, and flexing my arms. 
That got his attention - his eyes left my breasts and started checking 
out the rest of me. 

His mouth opened, and I saw him look me up and down. My arms were quite 
a bit bigger than his, and I knew that they were a lot harder, and 
stronger. But it was my thighs that really drew his eyes. He stared and 
stared, and maybe he began to understand what he was facing. He looked 
up again, but this time he wasn't looking lustfully at my breasts, he 
was looking fearfully at my arms. Excellent - fear is the beginning, and 
I reinforce that with pain to control the body, and humiliation to 
control the mind. Fear, pain and humiliation, the golden triangle, each 
one reinforcing the other until first the body, then the spirit, and 
finally the mind is destroyed. Wait till I start instilling some real 
fear into him, wait till I get him so he can't think of anything else 
except my thighs and what I can do with those babies. Andy groaned and 
looked up, I smiled down at him, and strolled towards the obnoxious ox, 
flexing my thighs with each step. 

Chapter 3 - Jimbo notices Carol 

JIMBO: 

Christ, what's going on? This girlie looks like some kind of Superwoman; 
her muscles are that big, and she looks as hard as steel. I can see her 
fists are clenched, and her arms look like Popeye, and her fist looks 
like a club hammer. What have I gotten myself into here? And oh boy, 
those thighs, if she ever got those round me and started squeezing it 
would be Goodnight Maureen. She's walking towards me, and I think about 
making a run for it, but then I think about what my buddies who are 
watching would say. I can't run from a broad, they'd rag me for ever. So 
I stand my ground, and bring up my hands to see what happens next, and 
she stands in front of me, a lot shorter than me. She's as cute as hell, 
I've never seen breasts as big and bouncy as hers, and her thighs are 
like to die for, and I can't believe how she's psyched me out. She 
reaches out for me, and I'm not sure if I punch her or kiss her, but she 
puts her hands at the sides of my waist, and kneads my flesh, and 
suddenly I know it's gonna be OK. "You want my phone number?", she says. 
Boy, do I ever! But I don't have a pencil, and I'm not real good at 
remembering numbers, so she dips a finger in the wimp's blood, and 
writes it on my chest. This is one cracking girlie, I tell you. I ain't 
never seen nothing like her, and when she says "Call me this evening", I 
know my boat's come home. I reach out to give her a big kiss, but she's 
busy with the wimp, so I figure I'll get mine later, and head back to 
the surf. 

ANDY: 

I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, I hurt all over. 
Even breathing hurt, and my face hurt badly. I opened my eyes, and I saw 
Carol talking with the big guy, and my first thought is that I'm hurt 
too badly to be able to give her what she wants, and my second though is 
that Benjy will have to do it all by himself, instead of acting as my 
number two. I rolled over and sat up - it didn't feel like anything was 
actually broken, and now I had a chance to take stock, I didn't actually 
hurt nearly as bad as when Carol got careless with me and squeezed me 
too hard, especially if I got trapped between her thighs when she was 
coming, and nothing like as bad as the time she got mad at me. My main 
regret was that Benjy was going to have a clear run at Carol, and maybe 
she wouldn't want me any more by the time I was better. Then I felt 
ashamed of myself for such a selfish thought. 

As I was watching, she took off her dress. God, what an incredible woman 
she is. Just look at her. You can see why men worship her body, and why 
she can smash a man up so easily. In spite of the pain I'm in, I felt a 
little bit sorry for the big guy - sure, he hurt me badly, but not even 
he deserves what Carol's about to do to him. She stood there, half naked 
in the sun, and I wished she was facing me, and then I thought I 
definitely was very glad I wasn't the target of her anger. She raised 
her hands to her hair, twisting it in a long rope, and at the same time 
making her arm muscles bulge even larger than her breasts. Carol flexing 
her arms is almost the most terrifying sight in the world, second only 
to Carol placing her legs round your body and locking her ankles 
together, and you know that all that stands between you and sixteen 
broken ribs, is how much she likes you. When you look at her thighs, you 
realize that you don't want to find out how much pressure she can exert 
with them, and you certainly don't want to be between them unless you've 
been invited. And Carol knows this, and uses the mere threat of her 
thighs to turn strong men into weeping children. 

She walked towards him, and I could see the fear spring into his eyes as 
he realised the destructive power of this awe-inspiring woman. But Carol 
wasn't ready to start her favorite game yet, her game of breaking a 
man's body, mind and spirit. She spoke to him, came over to me, and told 
me not to worry, then back to the big fellow, who smiled in relief and 
anticipation, and almost skipped away. 

Carol sat down beside me. "You're a mess", she said. "I'm sorry, Carol. 
I didn't stand a chance." "You're an idiot", she said. "You get into a 
fight with a man 20 cm taller and 40 kg heavier, what do you expect". I 
thought, those odds don't bother you, but I'm not built like Carol, so I 
hung my head, put my hands over my eyes, and tried to look like a dog 
that's made a mess on the carpet. "Come on", she said, and she put her 
hands under me and lifted me into her arms. 

It's moments like that, that make up for all the discomforts of living 
with a woman who can make a man submit by putting one arm round him and 
crushing his body. It's times like this that make you forget that 
between her thighs is probably the most wonderful, but dangerous place 
in the world. I put my arms round her neck as she carried me to the car, 
and as she gently laid me on the passenger seat, I kissed her. She 
smacked my face, but not very hard, and in the five minutes it took me 
to recover from it, we were on the road. 

CAROL: 

At first, I wanted to just smash him up because of Andy. Benjy's OK, but 
when the two of them have sex with me, it's so much better. Four hands 
are better than two, you know. As I walked towards him, I thought about 
how many punches it would take, and how hard I should hit him. I guessed 
that one in the gut would probably be enough, and then he'd be devoting 
all his attention to trying to breathe. He looked big, but very soft and 
squishy; a real butterball. Then I remembered - control yourself Carol. 
Don't let it all be over in a few seconds, make it last. I breathed 
deeply, and instead of smashing my fist into his big soft body, I rested 
my hands on his hips, and felt the softness of his abdomen. It was so 
tempting to just destroy him there and then, but a public beach is not a 
good place for what I had in mind. Anyway, I wanted a relationship with 
this brute that would last longer than an hour. The only place to do 
this was in my padded playroom, where so many other men have been forced 
to face their appalling weakness compared to a strong woman. So I gave 
him my phone number and a sexy smile, and when I could see that his tiny 
brain couldn't handle memorizing the number, I borrowed some of Andy's 
blood and wrote it down for him. Andy wouldn't mind, because Andy would 
be cleaning up a lot more of the ox's blood later. Then I picked Andy 
up, told him what an idiot he was, put him in the car, and drove him to 
hospital. 

JIMBO: 

Wendy was looking sullen. "What's wrong with my tits?", she asked. I 
laughed. "Compared with hers? You're kidding!" Wendy looked furious, and 
took her bikini top off. This was a mistake - she's got big tits, but 
they aren't exactly firm. Everyone was looking at her, Wendy's a peach, 
and I told her to get herself decent. "Not until you apologize", she 
said. So I gave her the back of my hand - well, what else can you do in 
this situation? Anyway, I was still thinking about Wonder Woman - what 
was her name? And she really fancied me, I could tell. You can always 
tell. "Come on - home." I ordered. I wanted to write this number down 
before the blood rubbed off, and get ready for a hot date with this new 
dame. 

Chapter 4 - Andy's injuries 

ANDY: 

I was right - nothing broken. I told Carol I'd been hurt worse by one of 
her orgasms, and she laughed and hugged me. Thank heaven she remembered 
I was hurt, and was very gentle. A full scale hug from Carol is a bit 
like being underneath a car when it falls off the jack. She smiled at me 
as she told me that she had a great entertainment lined up for later 
that evening, and that I'd feel a lot better after watching her play 
games with the obnoxious ox. 

We went back home, and Benjy took one look at me and almost screamed. I 
think he thought Carol had done it, which is understandable, and he must 
have thought it was his turn next, but I quickly reassured him that I'd 
just been beaten up by a bully on the beach. He looked relieved - I 
think he's really scared of Carol, sometimes. I don't know why, if Carol 
hurts him or me, it's only by accident. He ran me a hot bath, and helped 
me get into it for a long soak. 

BENJY: 

When I saw Andy, I nearly threw up. I took a quick look at Carol, but 
she didn't seem to be in a bad mood, which made me feel slightly safer. 
I've been with her longer than Andy, and I know what happened to my 
predecessor, and probably several guys before that. Carol genuinely 
enjoys hurting men with her hands, and I'm always worried that if she 
doesn't get enough pleasure in the ring, or by picking up some poor sap 
on the beach for the padded room, then she'll notice that I'm 
conveniently available. I can usually keep her happy with enough sex, 
especially now I've got Andy to help me, but with Carol you can never be 
sure. 

Andy explained what had happened, and I felt a lot better. I've stopped 
feeling sorry for the guys that follow Carol home, hoping for a good 
time. Sometimes, I see their faces as they realize what a nightmare 
they've walked into, and I feel a bit sorry for them. Actually, they 
never realize the full horror of the position they've gotten into. They 
can understand the physical pain, but Carol doesn't stop there. Carol 
likes to mess their minds up as well as their bodies. After a while with 
Carol, a guy is changed for ever. But after you've seen a few dozen, you 
get hardened to the situation. All I care about now, is how hard it is 
to get the bloodstains out, because Carol doesn't care, and Andy thinks 
that anything Carol does is wonderful. And I'd rather Carol had that 
sort of fun with some stranger than with me. 

Carol went down to the basement to use the gym, and I wondered whether 
to make dinner for the three of us, or whether Carol's date would be 
eating before visiting the padded room, because he certainly wouldn't be 
eating afterwards. I decided on dinner for three - Carol would eat her 
visitor as an appetiser. 

CAROL: 

After a couple of hours on the weights, I'd worked up a good glow, and I 
wanted a long hot shower, and then to get ready for the evening's fun. 
Andy was already in the bath, so I ordered him to get out, and started 
the shower running. When it was hot enough, I got under it, and saw Andy 
giving me the dog-like devotion look. He looked pitiful. With the blood 
washed off he looked better that he did before, but he was still badly 
bruised on his chest and shoulders. I guessed that a lot of that was 
actually caused by last night's sex session. The workout had left me 
feeling totally horny, like workouts usually do, so I let him have what 
he wanted; well, what I wanted, actually. I've trained him to want to 
please me, so what he wants is whatever I want. 

ANDY: 

I was still feeling pretty rough when Carol turfed my out of the bath, 
but firstly you don't argue with Carol, ever, and secondly, what she 
wanted was one of my favorites. She stood there with her hands behind 
her head, which made her stunning biceps stand out, and with her face up 
towards the hot shower, which made her breasts stand out even more than 
usual. She looked like an iron goddess, a statue in bronze, and her 
magnificent muscles were still throbbing from the heavy workout. I 
soaped the flannel, and went to work on her body, starting with her 
chiselled back and powerful arms. She stood as I worked round to her 
front, and watched me impassively as I lathered her outstanding breasts 
and hard, ridged belly. Gradually, I worked my way down to her thighs. 
Last time she let me measure her, they were 88 centimeters around, 
larger than her waist (larger than my chest, come to that). I washed her 
thighs carefully; gently but firmly. I know this arouses Carol, and it 
turns me on too. While I'm washing her thighs, I feel the solid hardness 
of them, and imagine her legs curled gently round my body, not tightly, 
not hurting, but just keeping me safe and warm inside her powerful 
thighs. And I think of all the times she's gripped me between them, 
leaving me gasping for breath. And I think of what I've seen her do to 
other men with them, mashing them into broken-bodied ruins. I've seen 
her crush a man's belly between her thighs until his resistance is 
totally spent, then move her legs up several inches, in order to crush 
his ribs, the bones crackling and grating under the pressure. She's 
quite a girl, my Carol. 

Then I dropped the flannel and soaped my hand. I reached towards Carol, 
and she raised one of those massive, terrifying legs, resting it on the 
side of the bath. I bent down and reached between her legs for the one 
of the very few soft places on her body, and rubbed it with my soapy 
hand. Carol moaned slightly, leaned down, and put her hands on my 
shoulders. I looked up at her beautiful body, and moved my head so that 
I could lick one of her nipples. Carol was getting more excited now, and 
her grip on my shoulders was getting painful. I wanted to back away, but 
that would be a very dangerous thing to do - you should never leave 
someone like Carol in a state of frustration. So I tried to forget the 
pain, and reached up with my right hand to stroke her other breast. 

Carol was almost singing now, and I knew that I could bring her to a 
climax soon. The pain in my shoulders was intensifying, and I knew I'd 
better get her done before she paralysed my arms with her iron grip. I 
reached deep between those powerful thighs, and grasped her clitoris 
between my thumb and forefinger, while rubbing her labia with the heel 
of my hand. 

Sometimes Carol has orgasms that are fairly small, but last for a long 
time. That can be gruelling for her sexual partner, because you're 
expected to keep going the whole time, and when Carol expects something, 
you do it. Still, that's one of the reasons she keeps two men in the 
house. Sometimes she has big, overwhelming orgasms, and that can be even 
worse, because she loses control of her arms and legs. If Carol's legs 
are wrapped round you when she has one of those, well, that's how Simon 
got his ribs broken, and he was lucky it wasn't worse. It's bad enough 
if she squeezes you in those big thick arms (53 centimeters round the 
biceps, last time I measured). This time, Carol came in a big rush. I 
knew she'd started her orgasm when she screamed, and I suddenly felt my 
body being crushed in her arms. I blacked out quickly from the pain and 
lack of air. 

When I regained my senses, I was lying on the bathroom floor, and Carol 
was drying herself with a big fluffy towel. I did my usual inventory 
(anything broken, anything sprained, anything bruised), and found I'd 
gotten off lightly. It really isn't that bad, being squeezed into 
blackness by Carol - I've gotten used to it. I had problems with it at 
first, I used to try to resist. But now I've learned, the right thing to 
do is just relax and let it happen, because that way, it doesn't hurt so 
much. I stood up and helped her dry that extravagant body, and she 
kissed me. Carol doesn't often kiss people. It meant that she was very 
pleased with me indeed, and wanted to say so. And, of course, Carol 
doesn't kiss like ordinary girls. She picked me up and carried me into 
the bedroom. She put one arm round my bottom and the other round my 
back, and hardly squeezed at all. Then one leg came up, and curled round 
my waist, and her grip got tighter. Meanwhile, her mouth was covering 
mine, and her tongue was exploring. Then, her other leg came up round my 
waist, and I was supporting her entire 85 kilos with my hips, which I 
can just about do. But then her legs started to clamp me so I couldn't 
breathe, and I began to get really worried, because having Carol's legs 
clamped round your waist is a bit like putting your thumb in a 
nutcracker and cracking it.  She bent me backwards until I couldn't keep 
my balance, and toppled over backwards. I've seen her do the same thing 
in the ring (except for the kiss, of course), and I thought I was going 
to smash on the floor with Carol on top of me, and I hoped my head 
wouldn't crack something solid. But she'd fixed it so we fell on the 
bed, and she unclamped her thighs and released me. "Enough fooling 
around, it's getting late", she said briskly. 

I sat up on the bed, and watched her going through the wardrobe, 
wondering what to wear. "Would you like me to make a suggestion?", I 
asked, timidly. You don't tell Carol what to do, at least not twice. "Go 
on", she replied. "This evening's your treat, anyway. It was you that 
found this guy for me." 

Chapter 5 - Fear and pain, pain and fear 

CAROL: 

I was glowing. You can't beat a heavy workout followed by a shattering 
orgasm. And I was really looking forward to the evening's entertainment, 
the ox from the beach. I planned to let Andy and Benjy watch as I 
destroyed his body, spirit and mind, in that order. And I would do my 
best to keep my self control, so that it didn't happen too fast. When a 
man's unconscious, you can't hurt him any more. 

I licked my lips, anticipating the fear, pain and humiliation that I 
would inflict. I start off with lots of pain, to change a big healthy 
male into a broken cripple, incapable of putting up much of a defence. I 
twist limbs in ways they aren't supposed to go, I deliver smashing 
punches to the gut and ribs, and make his face into hamburger. Then he's 
ready for the next stage. He's felt what I can do to him with my big, 
hard muscles, and I've broken his body so the next stage is to destroy 
his spirit. Most men find it impossible to come to terms with the idea 
that the pretty, sexy girl that's just been flirting with them can tear 
them apart so brutally and painfully with nothing more than her bare 
hands and big, hard muscles. So I reinforce the fact that it's just a 
girl doing this to them, by rubbing my big breasts against part of their 
body, letting the anticipation build the fear, and then inflicting 
horrendous pain on the place I just rubbed. I also use my long hair the 
same way, emphasizing the contrast between my soft hair and my hard 
fists. I talk to them, explaining what is happening to them, what I 
could do to them if I wanted, and most importantly what is going to 
happen to them. 

And then I use my thighs. I don't actually use them to hurt them, you 
understand. I use the threat of them to inflict paralysing fear, and to 
give me a position of complete domination. I show them my thighs, and 
explain what I can do with those great masses of muscle. First comes the 
pain, as I show them what being hurt by a woman feels like. Then I let 
the anticipation of more pain build the fear, and the pain and fear give 
me the total domination of their fluffy, weak minds. 

I force them to confront the simple fact of their total inability to 
stop me doing anything I want to their big soft bodies; I rub this fact 
in by explaining in simple terms what I'm about to hurt, and how much 
it's going to hurt, and then I hurt them more than they would have 
believed possible. I make sure that they don't forget that a sexy, 
ladylike woman has a body that is harder and stronger than they thought 
possible, and that an erotic female is causing all the pain and 
suffering. I brush my breasts against them, and my long, soft hair, 
while I tear them up with my hard fists. 

After they've found out how helpless they are against my fists and arms, 
I show them my thighs. I rub their faces against the inside of my thigh, 
which feel nice for me, and frightening for them. They always thought 
that a woman's legs would be soft and yielding, and now they find that 
this woman's thighs are as hard as mahogany, and as painful as a vise. 

Fear and pain, pain and fear. Each one reinforcing the other, each one 
adding to the total damage. Pain to damage the body, fear to damage the 
mind. The mind and the body are linked, so the fear and the pain 
reinforce each other. Fear is the expectation of pain. Pain is the 
culmination of the expectation of fear. They go together - the more pain 
he feels, the more fear he feels. The more you can build the fear, the 
more effective is the pain. And when you get the level of fear high 
enough, he breaks, his mind turns to jelly, and he loses all his self-
image. When he understands that there is an unbearable level of pain, 
and that I propose to take him there, his determination not to beg 
crumbles. Begging is all he has left, it's the only way he can hope to 
escape from my terrible power. But begging destroys his self-respect, 
and when that's gone, he's mine, totally mine. And, of course, all that 
begging does, is tell me that I'm doing the right things to him. 

One of my favorite terror-plays is to back a man against a wall, then 
lift one of my legs onto his shoulder, and force him to look directly at 
my 88 cm thigh, to rub his face against the hardest and largest mass of 
muscle he'll ever see, and to explain to him in simple words what would 
happen if I ever decided to use it against him. Then I get real close 
and rub my breasts against his chest, and explain that's where the pain 
is going to explode next. I wait a bit while it sinks in, then drive my 
hard fist against his body, three times quickly. The first time, the 
pain shoots throughout his body, softening any defence he still has; the 
second time the impact cracks or at least badly bruises his rib, and the 
third time inflicts horrendous pain on the damaged area. But I have to 
be careful not to hit too hard, otherwise he won't be paying attention 
for a while. When he's recovered a bit from the blows, I draw his 
attention to my leg, still resting on his shoulder, and suggest that he 
kiss my thighs, that maybe kissing my thighs will stop them from being 
used on him. 

Another good way to get the fear going is the bear hug. I like to do it 
face-to-face, because then he can feel my breasts against his body as my 
arms crush him against my chest. That way, he's constantly reminded that 
it's a woman who's dominating him with her powerful muscles. With a hug, 
I can squeeze all the air out of him, and then control his breathing. 
Until you've had someone else totally in control of your breathing, you 
have no idea how terrifying it is. I explain to him that I'm only going 
to allow him to take shallow breaths, and only occasionally. I wait 
until I can feel his body relaxing into unconsciousness, then I loosen 
my grip on his body, and his breathing reflex draws in a huge breath. 
This makes him partially conscious, so I crush him towards my body 
again. The effect is that he is never aware of breathing in, only of me 
crushing the air out of him. And, of course, exerting that amount of 
force hurts his poor, soft body even more. 

But my most potent terror-weapons are my thighs. I make sure that they 
understand how big and hard they are, how much damage they can do, how 
much stronger my thighs are than the arms that have just torn them 
apart. I don't actually use my thighs to hurt them, though. The threat 
is more devastating to their psyche than the actuality. The fear of the 
unknown is the worst kind of fear there is, and I make sure that they 
simply don't know just how much agony and damage my thighs can do, only 
that the potential is very great. I instil a terrible foreboding into 
their minds, so that whenever they see a woman's thighs from now on, 
they'll remember this moment, and break out into a cold sweat, dreading 
what she might do to them. 

I can hurt them plenty enough with my arms, I don't need to use my 
thighs. So I use my arms to wreck their bodies, and my thighs to destroy 
their spirit. I force his head down to rub against those big, hard 
pillars of muscle, and rub his face against them. I bring them together, 
quite gently, to show how it would feel to be crushed between them. All 
the time, I'm explaining that if I were to use my thighs, it would be 
the end of his fragile body, and how I can squash his body like a ripe 
peach if I wanted to. But I don't actually do it. They can torture their 
own minds with thoughts of my thighs, and it's far more effective than 
even the reality. The reality would end when they're unconscious, or 
when I stop crushing. The mind-torture lasts for ever. From now until 
eternity, the sight of a well-built woman will remind them of how this 
girl's thighs disintegrated their body and mind. 

By the time I've finished with this stage of the game, the man's spirit 
is as broken as his body. He's begging me to stop, crying in terror of 
my man-smashing arms, and in total dread of what my hard, unmerciful 
thighs might do to him, and his tears mingle with his blood in a very 
satisfying way. I tell him that pleading with me for mercy isn't going 
to help, but that he should plead anyway, because I love hearing another 
broken weakdick  weeping. So they beg, and plead, and their self-image 
shrivels until another male ego is destroyed by my strong, cruel muscles 
and the mere threat of my big, hard thighs. 

The third part of the exercise, after I've broken his body and his 
spirit, is to break his mind, to leave him a permanent mental cripple. 
I'll explain more about that later. 

Chapter 6 - Carol gets dressed 

BENJY: 

I came up to Carol's bedroom to see what was going on - the sounds from 
upstairs had stopped, and I guessed it was safe to come in. Well, as 
safe as it ever gets with Carol around. Andy was sitting on the bed, 
looking a bit battered but quite pleased with himself, and with a huge 
erection, about the only thing he's good at. Carol was dithering at the 
wardrobe, having the difficulty that so many women have in deciding what 
to wear. She turned as I came in; she was totally naked, wearing nothing 
but a warm glow, and I could guess that the sounds I'd been hearing 
earlier were why. She smiled at me and said "What do you think, Benjy?" 
Golly, she was in a good mood. At first, I thought Andy must have done 
an exceptional bit of servicing, and then I realised that she was 
probably looking forward to this evening's entertainment with the guy 
who'd beaten up Andy. "Something very feminine, I think". I reached into 
the wardrobe and pulled out something I'd bought for her several months 
ago. 

I was shopping in the mall, and I passed a shop, walked on a few yards 
and walked back. There in the window was something that was totally, 
quintessentially Carol. It was black, with black lace, and made partly 
of woven silk, and partly of some diaphanous gauzy silk. It had long 
sleeves and a long skirt, and I wasn't sure whether it was an evening 
dress or a night dress, but I imagined Carol in it, and almost wet 
myself. The price was exorbitant, a couple of thousand dollars, but I 
knew she'd love it. I dragged Andy down to see it, and he agreed, so we 
prepared a plan. We got Carol in a good mood (which took a few hours of 
hard labor from both of us and some bad bruises) and then told her we 
wanted to buy something for her and could we have two grand (you don't 
tell lies to Carol, even white lies). She murmured yes before we all 
fell asleep in her bed, and next day I went down to the mall and bought 
it. Of course, the size was all wrong for Carol - she's an impossible 
dress size. And the dressmaker simply didn't believe me when I told her 
Carol's measurements, they never do. But I assured her that a 122 
centimeter bust with a 70 centimeter waist was exactly right, because 
you had to allow for the fact that Carol might breathe in deeply and 
spread her lateral muscles, and anything less than 120 centimeters was 
asking for trouble. The skirt was very full, so I didn't anticipate 
problems with her bottom. Not that Carol has a large bottom. But you 
have to understand that anyone with two 88 cm thighs is going to have a 
fairly large circumference down there, and if the shop lady had trouble 
believing in a 122 cm chest, she'd find 88 cm thighs outrageous. 

A few days later, it was ready, and I brought it home. Usually, it's 
Carol that controls events; my life and Andy's revolve around her needs 
and wishes. But occasionally, she feels lazy and lets us take charge, 
and we waited for one of those days. We gave her a good hot shower and 
soaping after her workout, but without letting her get any strong sexual 
arousal. She was clearly very horny, but she was willing to wait for it, 
although we'd probably better not keep her waiting too long. Once you've 
aroused Carol, you don't have any choice in what happens next. We dried 
her with a warm fluffy towel (four hands against her two), we each took 
one of her hands, and led her back to the bedroom. I'm sure she was 
expecting something nice, because when Andy asked her to close her eyes, 
she did. I wish I could make her do that, she *never* listens to me. We 
put soft, perfumed talcum on her hard clean-smelling body, then Andy 
slipped the dress over her head while I kept my hands over her eyes. 
When we were ready, I took my hands away, and she looked in the mirror. 
Andy and I held our breath - you can never be certain how Carol will 
react, and if she decided to be angry, we were in deep, deep shit. I 
decided that if she went for Andy first, I'd run straight out of the 
house and not stop. 

ANDY: 

Carol's fantastic body mesmerized me, like it always does. She was 
humming to herself, riffling through her dresses, wondering what to 
wear. I sat on the bed enjoying the view, trying not to let my erect 
penis have an orgasm (Carol gets upset if I come when she doesn't want 
me to, and I try not to upset Carol). And at that exact moment, bloody 
Benjy walked in. Doesn't he have any sense of timing? Why wasn't he in 
the kitchen, where he was supposed to be? She turned and saw him, and 
asked him what she should wear. I couldn't believe it. I get the 
battering and the bruises, and he gets asked for advice. Life can be 
unfair. Before I could protest, he pulled out her sexy black number, and 
handed it to her. She smiled at him, and reached down behind his apron 
and squeezed his balls. His grin instantly changed to a rictus of agony, 
and I think he tried to scream, but all he could manage was a high-
pitched squeak. Carol has ball-crushing down to a fine art. She let go, 
and sweetly asked him if she could smell chicken burning, and he 
scuttled back to where he belongs, in the kitchen. Maybe there is some 
justice in the world, after all. 

I remembered that black negligee. I wheedled the money for it out of 
her, and sent Benjy to buy it. I got her ready, with Benjy's help, and 
slid it over her muscular body. The contrast between the soft, silky 
fabric and the hard, powerful woman underneath is the most erotic sight 
I've ever seen. And when Carol opened her eyes and saw the effect in the 
mirror, she kissed Benjy, and then mounted me for the most prolonged and 
satisfying lovemaking I've ever had. Carol doesn't usually concern 
herself about her sexual partner, but occasionally she surprises me, and 
this time was an exceptional surprise. In between tupping me, she 
satisfied herself on Benjy, but each time I showed signs of coming back 
to life, she abandoned Benjy and ravaged my sexual organs again. I was 
very glad when it got light that morning; until then, I wouldn't have 
believed that a woman could kill a man with too much sex, but I believe 
Carol could do exactly that, if she'd a mind to. I spent the rest of the 
day in bed, recuperating; Benjy was snoring his head off on the other 
side. 

That black negligee brought back some very pleasant memories, but also 
some rather disturbing ones. She also likes to wear it when she's having 
her fun with some poor sucker picked up on the beach, because she likes 
to look sexy while she destroys them. The last time Carol wore it, we 
practically had to scrape the poor guy off the floor of the padded room, 
in order to put him on a stretcher to deliver him to the hospital. And 
it took days to get the blood off the ceiling. I think he'd pissed her 
off somehow, not a wise move with Carol. 

She pulled the satin night-dress over her head, and wrapped the fine 
lawn-fabric negligee wrap around her, settling the batwing sleeves over 
her arms. She looked amazing; sexually exciting, but physically 
terrifying at the same time. If you looked at her, you could see the 
most incredible fuck in the world, or several weeks in hospital, 
depending on where you looked. Her long, soft, silky blonde hair 
cascaded down her back, and her prominent breasts filled the dress, 
making her look like an odalisque. But then you looked down, and the 
silk soft clung to the front of her thighs, and when you looked at those 
gigantic thighs, ridged with hard muscle, and you wondered if anyone 
could survive between them if she decided to bring them together. Then 
you'd look up at her large, hard nipples, and wonder what they would 
feel like in your mouth, and how much bigger they'd get if you licked 
and sucked them. And then she'd move slightly, and her arms would appear 
from underneath the batwing sleeves, and you'd think about all the men 
who had crumbled into mush after a couple of punches driven by those 
huge powerful biceps. Then she smiled at me, and it was like the sun 
coming out. I fell to my knees, and kissed her awesome thighs, running 
my hands up and down the backs of her legs, feeling the hardness and 
density under her soft skin. She stood for a while, enjoying the 
sensation, until I lost all my self control, and came. 

Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to turn sideways, so I didn't 
wet her negligee; I shudder to think what would have happened if I had. 
Carol can go from being sweet and gentle to being angry and nasty in no 
time at all; I've seen it, and I don't ever want to see it again, not if 
I'm the target. She ripped off my shirt and made me mop it up; I felt 
lucky she was in a good mood, otherwise it would have been my pre-dinner 
aperitif. But I didn't get away with it completely. She sat down facing 
me on the floor, and stretched her legs out straight. "Punishment time, 
Andy", she smiled at me, beckoning me to sit in front of her. She was 
going to put those huge thighs round my malleable, helpless body. I was 
petrified, but in spite of knowing what was going to happen, I had to 
obey her. "Please, no Carol, I'm sorry, please ..." I wept. She didn't 
scissor me. When you scissor someone, you lock your ankles together, and 
straighten your legs. She didn't lock her ankles together, she simply 
smiled at me sweetly as she brought those massive thighs together like a 
nut cracker, with my waist as the nut. I didn't resist, that's a big 
mistake when Carol's decided to punish you. Just grit your teeth, breath 
as much as you can, and hope she's in a good mood. Just as the pain was 
getting unbearable, just as I was beginning to black out from the sheer 
agony, she relaxed her mighty legs, reached forward and cuddled me into 
her arms. Carol is very intuitive when it comes to pain; she 
instinctively seems to know when a man is at breaking point. I guess 
it's a matter of practice, breaking point is where she likes to have her 
men. She whispered in my ear. "Andy, you've got to learn more self 
control, and this is the only way to teach you." I buried my face in her 
soft, sweet-smelling hair and kissed her neck, resolving to have more 
will-power next time and the cuddle turned into a powerful bear hug, 
crushing the air out of me, until I passed out. 

Chapter 7 - A guest for dinner 

CAROL: 

I wore my black silk man-crusher, because I love to look real sexy as I 
destroy a man's body, spirit and mind. I'm really a very girlie sort of 
girl, if you know what I mean. I can fuck all night, and all day too, 
sometimes, although it's a bit difficult to find sexual partners with 
enough stamina. Having two boys around helps a bit with that, although 
even with both of them I remain a bit sexually frustrated sometimes. 
Andy got a bit naughty as I was getting ready, and I had to give him a 
tiny bit of a spanking, but he's a good kid really, and I don't think I 
hurt him too bad. Just a bit of a cuddle with my thighs, really, I know 
that deep down he loves the feel of my legs round him. He fainted, as 
usual; I guess he's used to that by now. I went down to see how Benjy 
was getting on, and also to see his reaction to my get-up, and he did a 
very satisfying open-mouthed stare, which shows that me and my black 
silk man-crusher can still cut the mustard. While he was gawking at my 
breasts, the phone rang. It was the moronic ox from the beach, phoning 
to get my address so he could come round tonight. He sounded really 
keen, kind of breathless. You know how lambs walk into the 
slaughterhouse, bleating happily? I thought, if he sounded like that 
now, just wait till he gets an eyeful of me in my black silk man-
crusher. He asked if he could bring a friend along. No problem, I said, 
happily, thinking that two oxy morons are better than one. 

When I told Benjy about the extra guest, he grinned, and said no 
problem, he'd only made enough for three people anyway. "Benjy", I said, 
frowning. I put one hand on either side of his upper ribs, just under 
his armpits, and squeezed his body gently but with an obvious implied 
threat. "I assumed that your guest wouldn't feel like eating after you'd 
finished with him", he continued. I tilted my head to one side, looked 
at him and smiled. "Sometimes, I think there might actually be a brain 
inside that pretty little head", I said. I let my fingers roam up into 
his armpits, and gently rubbed the short fur there. I know that feels 
good, because sometimes I let Andy and Benjy do it to me. 

Since we were having guests and a formal dinner (although probably not 
both at the same time; the way I had it planned, the guests would 
provide the pre-dinner entertainment, and then we'd leave them to 
recover while we ate, so they could be the post-prandial fun as well), I 
let the boys dress up a bit. Usually, Andy goes practically naked, and 
Benjy wears not much more than an apron (because of cooking and 
suchlike). Andy looked really dishy in a blue velvet jacket, matching 
short trousers and long socks.  By the time the doorbell rang, everyone 
was ready. Andy answered the door, and led my lamb-to-the-slaughter in 
to the living room, where he stood grinning down at me. And he had a 
friend with him, as expected. But what I didn't expect was - a girl 
friend. 

JIMBO: 

I was really looking forward to this. Maybe the little wimpy Henry will 
be there, and I can smack him around some more. That'll get all of us 
excited, except the poor sucker himself, of course. The tits on that 
broad - high and solid, good for squeezing, sucking and lots of other 
righteous stuff. I shave and slap on loads of aftershave, you never know 
what turns a broad on. Wendy glares at me while I get ready, and I guess 
she feels left out. Then I think, two cunts are better than one, so I 
tell her I'm taking her along too. She doesn't seem too peachy about 
that idea, but a few knuckles soon persuades her. I call the broad from 
the beach, whatever her name was, and get the address. I tell her that 
Wendy is coming too, and she doesn't seem to mind. I tell Wendy to stop 
snivelling and get tarted up, and fix her face up. She takes forever to 
get ready, and I lose my rag. I push her into the pickup and tell her to 
finish off the paint job while I drive. I can't hardly wait. This is 
gonna be great. 

ANDY: 

The big ox walked in like he owned the place. He grinned at me and made 
a fist, but I wasn't scared of him, not with Carol around. Actually, I 
was more scared of what Carol's mood will be after she was finished with 
him. I hoped he would last long enough for her. 

There was a girl with him. She looked like she might be pretty, but 
she'd been crying, and her eyes were red, her mascara smudged. Her hair 
was a mess but she looked like she'd got a great body under a rather 
drab dress. Nothing like Carol, of course, just a slim, soft woman. Not 
really my kind of girl. I like them big and hard, like Carol. Hard and 
muscular, like Carol. Muscular and dominant like Carol. 

Then Carol walked in, wearing her black silk negligee, and you could 
have heard a pin drop. People usually see what they want to see, and Mr 
Ox saw the fuck of a lifetime, not the eight weeks in hospital. His 
mouth was open and his trousers started to bulge. You could almost see 
the dotted lines between his eyes and Carol's breasts, and if I hadn't 
known what was in store for him, I might have gotten jealous. 

Carol looked at Mr Ox, then she looked at Mrs (presumably) Ox. "Hello", 
she said, "I'm Carol". The ox said "Jimbo", and stuck out a hand. Carol 
ignored it and turned to the girl "And you are ..." "Wendy", she said, 
with a glance at the man, like she needed permission to talk. Carol 
frowned slightly, and asked her if she'd like to fix her mascara. She 
looked at Jimbo, who was still staring at Carol's breasts, and had 
undoubtedly forgotten that Wendy even existed. So Carol told me to fix a 
drink for Jimbo, and led Wendy to the bathroom. 

I asked him what he'd like, and he grinned at me, and ambled happily 
towards me. "You, Nancy-boy", he said, and grabbed my arm in a familiar 
grip. 

CAROL: 

I took Wendy into my bedroom, and sat her down on the bed. "What's the 
matter", I said. She burst into tears. I'm not too good with crying 
people, so I called Benjy, who's had lots of practice, with Andy and 
Andy's predecessors. He put his arms round her and she cried on his 
shoulder for a while, and started sobbing out the old familiar story of 
male brutality and oppression. She showed us some of her more recent 
bruises, but her recital of woe soon got repetitive, and noises from the 
next room caught my attention. I went back into the living room, to find 
the moron standing over Andy, with Andy in the slumped-over, bleeding 
and crying position that Andy so often gets into. The big idiot didn't 
know that you're not supposed to beat up your host, and he especially 
didn't know that you're not supposed to damage my property. I thought of 
Andy, I thought of Wendy, I thought of what was going to happen now, and 
I smiled sexily up at him and suggested we go into the play room. 

JIMBO: 

It works every time. You beat up their current boyfriend, and they latch 
on to you like shit on a shovel. I follow her into what she calls her 
play room - I know what sort of play she's got in mind, and I'm the one 
to give it to her, hot and hard. She's wearing some kind of see-through 
black thing, real silky and sexy. Her long blonde hair contrasts nicely 
with the black silk, and her tits fill up a very large space in front. 
This is one for the books, wait till the guys see me with this one, 
they'll cream themselves. In the play room, there's no bed, just padded 
walls and floor. Still, I don't need no bed for what I've got in mind, 
and the padding's a great idea. 

Chapter 8 - The padded room 

CAROL: 

He guessed I wanted to fuck with him, and in a way, he guessed right. 
But not in the way he thought. First, I needed to get his attention, so 
I walked up real close to him, using my body to back him against a wall. 
I could feel his erection hard against my body. Then I hit him in the 
gut, real gently. His eyes opened wide, so I smiled up at him 
invitingly, and hit him again, a bit harder. He looked a bit confused, 
and reached down to hold my wrists. I punched him a third time, this 
time hard enough to hurt a little. "Hey, girlie, cut that out!", he 
said. I smiled sweetly at him, and hit him again, in the same place, a 
bit harder. Still holding my hands in his, he spread his arms apart and 
pulled me closer towards him. I pulled my wrist out of his hand and hit 
him again, in the same place again, and a bit harder. He was getting 
pissed at this, and grabbed my shoulders and tried to shake me. I was 
heavier than he expected, I weigh about twice as much as you'd expect a 
girl my height to be, and I'm kinda solid, so it didn't work. I hit him 
again in the belly, still not very hard, but hard enough to hurt a bit, 
and I could see I was getting him mad. 

JIMBO: 

She walks straight into me, her lovely body pressing mine against the 
wall, and my prick is threatening to burst out of my trousers, and I'm 
wondering how fast I can get them off. Then she punches me playfully in 
the gut, and I'm not ready for that, so it hurts a bit. She looks at me 
real sexy, and it's getting very uncomfortable in my underpants, and 
then she punches me again. This time my abs were ready for it, but this 
isn't what I'm after, so I grabbed her wrists to control her. But this 
didn't work, somehow she punches me again anyhow, and this time it 
really hurts, but if course I don't let on. "No more, honey", I think, 
and pull her wrists wide apart. That makes her body come in close to me, 
with her breasts standing out like my prick is, and I pull her closer, 
to get the full effect of those tits. Whereupon she pulls one of her 
hands free, and socks me again, and really winds me, and I'm getting 
real fed up with this. I reckon she needs to be shown who was boss, but 
I don't want to damage that pretty face, so I grab her shoulders to give 
her a good shake. That usually gets a woman thinking right, and doesn't 
leave any unsightly marks. I grab her shoulders, and start trying to 
shake her, but she feels like a block of stone, big and solid. She 
doesn't look fat, just big all over, and heavy. "What the hell", I 
think, and then she hits me again, and this time it's like a hammer in 
the gut and I'm getting really mad. 

OK, I think, you want to play that game, you got it. I stepped back and 
give her one in her soft feminine belly, not too hard, or she'd be out 
of commission, which I obviously don't want. Except somehow, it didn't 
feel soft under the silk, and somehow it didn't seem to have any effect. 
So I hit her again, harder, and it still doesn't do anything. She leans 
back against the wall, puts her hands behind her head, which throws her 
bust out about a mile, and smiles up at me. "Come on, you can do better 
than that. Hit me properly, you're hitting like a girl."  Well, no-one 
says that to Jimbo Downley. OK, I'm still hoping for some real fun, and 
I don't want her crying all over the place, Wendy's bad enough, so 
although I punch this broad one in the gut, I pull the punch. It feels 
like I'd hit a leather punch bag, basically solid, with just a little 
give to it. What's she got there? An iron corset? 

CAROL: 

At last, I was getting through to him. He was starting to throw some 
real punches, real for him, that is. Time to explain the rules of the 
game to him. "OK, weakdick. Here's the score. You're in the deepest shit 
of your whole life. This is the girlie that's going to smash up your 
body, break your spirit, and fuck your mind so bad you'll never be 
straight again. Your body's big, but it's soft, and mine is big and 
hard, bigger than you, and a lot harder." I lifted my arms so that the 
batwing sleeves fell away, and I tensed my muscles so he could see my 
biceps, 53 centimeters of steel. Even he could see that his own 40 
centimeters were smaller, although he couldn't see how dense my arms 
are. Years of lifting huge weights have made my muscles not only bigger, 
but also harder and denser, and of course I started off with the woman's 
natural muscle density advantage, together with my own genetic 
propensity to large, dense muscles. I guess that my arms were at least 
twice as strong as this weakdick, and he'd be finding that out for 
himself soon enough. "I'm going to hurt your body like you hurt Andy, 
and then I'm going to break your spirit like you did Wendy. You'll be 
feeling pain, lots of delicious, delightful, debilitating pain. I'm very 
good at inflicting pain, enough pain to fill your whole world, and I 
know when to let up just to stop you escaping into blackness. And then, 
when you've got yourself together again, I'll hurt you some more. Before 
I've finished with you, you'll lick my feet and be grateful for the 
temporary respite from the pain while you're licking. When I do finish 
with you, you'll find all women objects of fear. I'll fuck your body so 
bad you'll be in pain for years to come, and I'll fuck your mind so bad 
you'll have nightmares for years. Now, look at my arms. Look carefully. 
This little girl can smash you easily with them, like you smashed my 
sweet little Andy." I flexed my biceps and cocked my fist, making them 
bulge to their full 53 cm size. 

He stared at my big hard arms, realizing that I was easily capable of 
carrying out my threats. "Now look at my thighs, because then you'll 
understand what is about to happen. You're going to learn how to humble 
yourself in front of a woman, you're going to learn how to please a 
woman. Because if you don't, this is what you'll have to face." Then I 
reached down and pulled my skirts aside, so he could see my thighs. 
Eighty-eight centimeters of iron-hard muscle. If he thought my arms were 
something to worry about, that was because he hadn't seen my legs. I'd 
seen his on the beach, and they were pitiful. He probably thought his 
legs were big, but mine were about 50% bigger around, with twice the 
cross-section area, and three times as strong as his. He could see that 
if I ever wrapped those beauties round him, it was all over apart from 
the cracking sound of breaking bones and the squishing sound of crushed 
internal organs. I lifted one of my legs high over my head into the air, 
so that he could get a good view of my thigh muscles. The human thigh is 
the largest muscle of the body, and a woman's thighs tend to be large, 
before you even start working on them. I've done a lot of work on mine, 
so what he saw in front of him was a muscle larger than anything he 
would have thought possible. I slowly lowered my leg toward him, so that 
my thigh closed in on his face. I had his full attention now. Finally, 
he realized that this wasn't a fair fight, that there was no chance that 
he could bear even a small part of the pain that I'd be giving him, and 
no chance that he'd come out of this undamaged.  

Chapter 9 - Carol's arms, Carol's legs 

JIMBO: 

She lifts her arms up so that her sleeves fall away, and I see what I 
saw on the beach again. Jesus, they're huge! What's going on here? Then 
she starts talking, about how she is going to smash me up, about how 
there would be nothing I could do about it, about how she was going to 
castrate me or something. One of these feminist bitches, I guess. And 
she talks about pain a lot. Well, I don't care how big her arms are, no 
bitch is gonna be able to take me down. She reckons she's a 
weightlifter, but everyone knows that those muscles are just for show, 
not for real. Then she lifts her skirt, and she's got legs like tree 
trunks. I mean, her thighs are like massive pillars of twisted steel 
cable. I mean, if she gets those babies into action, I'd hate to be an 
uninvited guest between them. Yes, I'd seen them before at the beach, 
now I come to think of it, but I was more interested in her tits then. 
Those legs are simply huge, and I mentally compare them with my own 
thighs, which are pretty big, though I do say so myself, and I kind of 
hope that I didn't have to put them to the test. She puts her thigh up 
close to my face, and if I turn my head I can feel the heat from it. Up 
close like this, you can see the tendons running down it like steel 
cables, you can see the great slabs of striated muscle running from her 
crotch to her knee. I've seen a few women's thighs in my time, but 
nothing, simply nothing, like this. I think that even I better watch out 
for those man-crushers, I better stay out from between them until I got 
her softened up and ready for a bit of Jimbo-type loving. 

But what the fuck, when it comes right down to it, she's just a girlie, 
and broads don't have the same muscle that men do. What am I worried 
about? She obviously needs a lesson, and this is the guy that's equipped 
to give it to her. Two lessons, in fact. First to show her who's boss, 
and then to show her how a real man fucks. And by now, I'm not that 
bothered about damaging the merchandise. She's asking for it, she's 
gonna get it. Time for the old left-right. Time for the my patented 
head-and-body combination that gets results fast. I throw my left fist 
at her face, not really expecting to connect, just to get her guard up. 
And with my right, I drive a short hard jab into her unprotected middle, 
as hard as I can, what I call my fight-ender. I call it that, because it 
ends fights pretty quick. 

Most of it works. She dodges my head shot, and my left fist hits the 
wall, just as well it's padded, otherwise it would have hurt. She's too 
slow to bring her guard up, but she's also too slow to get her arms in 
front of her belly, and my right fist goes in, hard and solid, leading 
with the knuckles, like a sledgehammer.  Most fights end right there, 
it's just a matter of mopping up, or rather of spreading some blood 
around to finish the guy off. I like it when there's a good gush of 
claret. The pain from the body shot stops him from being able to defend 
himself, and I can do pretty much what I like. 

It doesn't quite work the way it's supposed to. She doesn't seem to 
notice the punch in the belly at all, and my right hand hurts worse than 
the one that hits the wall. Maybe she's wearing some hard kind of corset 
under the dress? 

CAROL: 

Finally, I've gotten him interested. I think it was the sight of my 
thighs that did it, he looked a bit taken aback when he saw them. Men 
usually do. They're used to something soft and limp, like their own 
thighs, and seeing mine up close is pretty intimidating. He tried a 
kindergarten stunt on me, the old one-two that every amateur tries. I 
moved my head a few inches, so that his hand hit the padded wall, and 
let his right hand make contact with my tensed abdomen. He looked a bit 
surprised when that happened; he was maybe expecting me to curl up in 
pain, but actually it probably hurt him a lot more than it hurt me. He 
didn't hit me very hard, and I wondered if he was still holding back. 

There's two tricks to this. The first is to develop your abs until 
they're nice and thick, and you do this with weighted sit-ups. I get one 
of my boys to sit on my legs, and do sit-ups with a 50 kilo weight on my 
shoulders. The second trick is to practice being punched in the belly. 
The boys can't punch worth a damn, but I've gotten a couple of heavy 
wooden mallets, padded the heads slightly by wrapping them in leather, 
and I get them to swing at me with that. Andy was reluctant at first, 
afraid he'd hurt me, but Benjy was enthusiastic, and Andy soon followed 
when he saw that the blows didn't have much effect on me. We play a 
little game; if they can hammer me hard enough to make me stop them, 
they win, and I give them each an orgasm. If they can't hurt me within 
an hour (often they get tired out long before that, poor lambs) then I 
pick one of them to spend the night with his head buried between my 
legs. I find it sort of comforting to have a man between my legs all 
night, sort of like a big teddy bear. Pretty uncomfortable for the boy, 
of course, although Andy doesn't seem to mind too much. Anyway, if Andy 
and Benjy can't hurt me with an hour of swinging seven pounds mallets, 
Jimbo's big soft fists weren't going to make an impression. 

JIMBO: 

I try hitting her in the belly again, and it still doesn't do anything, 
except I hurt my hand again on whatever she has there. So I reach out 
and touch, and she lets me have a quick feel. I can feel the softness of 
the silk night-dress, and then underneath it is just female flesh, but 
when I push, it doesn't give at all, it's as hard as steel. No, not 
steel, because there is a slight give to it, and it isn't cold like 
iron. More like oak maybe, and as I run my fingers up, I feel the hard 
ridges of her abs, and I understand that hitting her stomach isn't going 
to do anything. Shit! This girl's got power like a locomotive. Arms like 
a wrestler, legs like tree trunks, and a belly like a ridged oak board. 
What you gonna do, Jimbo lad? Maybe I am in deep shit here like she 
says, but then I see she's smiling at me again, and maybe all this 
mountain of female muscle needs is a good rogering, because that's 
definitely what I need right now. And hey, the contrast between the 
soft, feminine silk and the hard muscular woman underneath is really 
getting to me, and my prick is begging for what it needs. So I smile 
back, and slide my hands up to her tits, and the world suddenly explodes 
into red and black. 

CAROL: 

Jesus, I can't believe this guy. I've shown him my arms, I've shown him 
my thighs, I've let him feel the hardness of my body, I've explained 
what's about to happen to him, and he still doesn't understand, he still 
thinks this is about sex. He's facing me with his massive hard-on almost 
ripping through his trousers, and running his hands up my body over my 
breasts, and maybe it's time to explain this to him in a way he can't 
fail to understand. So I hit him again, this time with a bit of power, 
straight into his belly, three times quickly. The first time my fist 
lands, the pain and shock to his system makes all his muscles relax. The 
second punch arrives half a second later, and drives into his relaxed 
muscles, battering and bruising them so that they can't resist. The 
third punch arrives after another half second, and that's the one that 
does the real damage. It drives past the battered muscles and penetrates 
to his internal organs, the ones that his body is supposed to protect 
from damage. Inside the human body there's an assortment of soft organs; 
liver, digestive system, things like that. None of them are able to feel 
pain, there aren't the right nerves there. If you damage one of them, it 
has to find a way to signal its distress to the brain. The heart, for 
example, refers the pain to the left elbow; any agonizing unexplained 
pain to the left elbow means your heart is in serious trouble. But the 
soft organs in the belly refer the pain to the entire body; you can't 
actually tell where the pain is coming from, just that there's a lot of 
it. And the pain weakens the man, and leaves him easy to hurt more. 
Jimbo's knees folded, and he slowly sank to the floor and curled up into 
a ball. At that point I could do anything I liked, so I went to fetch my 
boys, they like watching this sort of thing. 

Chapter 10 - Jimbo knows pain 

ANDY: 

Oh Carol, where are you when I need you? Ox-boy grinned as his fist 
smashed into my face, my body, my shoulder, anywhere. He seemed to just 
want to use me as a punch bag. After about five minutes, I passed out. I 
came to with my head in Carol's lap, resting on the biggest hardest 
thighs in the world, with my head on one of them, and my face nuzzling 
the other one. Second to being in Carol arms, this is probably the best 
awakening a man can have. She was still wearing her soft silk negligee, 
and her hair fanned over my body as she rocked me. I didn't want this to 
end, so I kept my eyes shut and pretended I was still out like a light. 
I could feel the soft silk of her nightie under my face, the soft skin 
under that, and the hard, unforgiving muscle under the skin. But my 
erection gave me away, and when Carol noticed, she got a bit cross with 
me, and ordered me into the playroom. That, of course, is the one place 
that Benjy and I really hate. It's bad enough watching her destroy some 
poor sap for no other crime than his maleness, but we both know deep 
inside that it could be one of us in there one day, although I simply 
cannot believe that my lovely Carol would actually hurt me on purpose. 
Apart from the one time that she did, of course. You never know with 
Carol. When I got there, I found that Benjy and Wendy were already 
there, and so was Jimbo. But Jimbo was only partly there, if you see 
what I mean. He was there in body, but curled up in a ball on the floor. 
I could guess what had happened to him, but what he didn't know was that 
it was just the beginning. Carol had only stopped to gather an audience. 

I joined the others, sitting next to Wendy, who was gazing at Jimbo like 
a rabbit at a snake. I exchanged glances with Benjy; we're quite good at 
this non-verbal communication, and this one meant "Here we go again". 
Then Carol came into the room, and I must say she looked magnificent. 
She always looks magnificent, of course, but tonight she looked like the 
Sexy Angel of Death. She was getting her hair tied up in a ponytail to 
make it easier to manage, and with her arms up in that position, the 
sleeves of her negligee had fallen away to reveal those enormous upper 
arms. You could see her over-sized biceps, but you could also see 
various other muscles I didn't even know the names of. And as she walked 
in, her skirts swished and parted to reveal those long, graceful and 
deadly legs, and the thighs that could crush a man's body from here to 
eternity. Did I mention how much I love this woman? I must do, otherwise 
why would I ever risk putting my soft 34 inch chest between those 
massive 88 centimeter thighs? Each one of them was bigger than my whole 
body, and where my body was hollow, protected by fragile bones, and 
filled with soft things like lungs and heart, Carol's thighs were hard 
as mahogany, each one just a solid hunk of muscle. And there are two of 
them, one for either side of whatever she wants to crush flat. She fell 
asleep once with one leg resting on my chest, and just the weight of it 
made it hard to breathe. I tried to lift it off me, but it was just too 
heavy, and Benjy was sleeping like a pig and too far away to wake to get 
his help. I thought about waking Carol to get her to move her leg, but 
waking Carol when she doesn't want to be woken is a bit like throwing 
the dice - you can wind up a lot worse off. So I spent that night 
without any sleep, the awful weight of her leg on my weak body, just 
struggling to get enough air into my lungs. 

I have never seen her kick anything or anybody, and I don't think I ever 
want to see that. Her fist can practically drive through a man's body 
and out the other side. She once told me that she was careful not to use 
more than a third of her punching power on a man, otherwise that's the 
end of her fun. If her legs are three times as strong as her arms, the 
damage she could do with a kick doesn't bear thinking about. 

BENJY: 

Wendy was breathing hard, obviously in the grip of some strong emotion. 
From what she'd told us, she'd suffered a lot at Jimbo's hands, both 
physical pain and repeated humiliations. Now she was seeing him down and 
humbled, and there was obviously more to come. Carol stood over him, her 
hands on her hips, looking down at her latest victim, clearly relishing 
her power over him. I knew what was to come. Lots of pain, lots of fear 
and lots of humiliation, until the man was broken in body, spirit and 
mind. He moved slightly as she stood over him, wearing her black silk 
negligee, which on any other woman would be a signal that she was ready 
for love, but which on Carol was a signal that she was ready to destroy 
another helpless male. 

JIMBO: 

Pain. All I know is pain. The pain is white, and red. I don't know how 
it happened, but the girl musta done it when I'm not watching. It feels 
like someone hit me in the gut with a sledgehammer. You know when you 
bang your elbow, your funnybone, and for a moment all you can feel is 
the pain? That's how I feel, except it isn't just for a moment, it goes 
on and on. I open my eyes and cough, blood runs out of my mouth. 
Something musta got bust up inside. The cough makes a yellow and green 
flash inside my eyes. Pain and more pain. 

CAROL: 

Now everyone's here, and little weakdick's lying on the floor drooling 
blood, so it's time to get started. Arms first, it's always a good idea 
to take out their arms. They're so proud of their arm strength, like 
it's all they've got, so the first thing is to take that away from them, 
and it's so easy. I call this the "butterfly wing", because his arms end 
up like a butterfly's wing. 

First, let's make sure he knows what sex I am. He was lying on his back, 
trying to breathe through the pain I'd just given him, so I knelt across 
his pelvis, and pulled his body up so that I could cuddle his head into 
my breasts. I rocked him and soothed the pain away, until he stopped 
crying and started breathing more or less normally. Then he looked up at 
me, and I wriggled myself on his groin, smiling at him. The movement of 
my genitals against his, and the feel of my breasts against his chest 
really turned him on. I could feel his erection growing against my 
vagina, and I kept this up until I felt he was ready. Men are so easy to 
fuck with. 

I turned him over so he was lying on his face, stood on the top of his 
back, and lifted his two arms. I pulled them straight out at right 
angles to his body, rotated them till his elbows pointed upwards, and 
then lifted his wrists upwards. After just a few inches, that's as far 
as they go - try it on yourself. At that point, you feel the resistance 
from the shoulder joint, but you have 75 centimeters of arm to use as a 
lever against the joint, and it's like doing a deadlift. I can deadlift 
500 kilos easy. Once, some idiot parked so close to my car that I 
couldn't get out, so I just lifted up the back end of his car, and 
pulled it away - brakes only lock the back wheels. By the time I'd 
finished, quite a crowd had gathered, so I showed off a bit, to show 
people that you better not fuck with me. I was wearing a silk blouse, 
and a short, pleated skirt, nylons on my legs, and a sound pair of 
trainers on my feet. I started to kick the offending car. I can kick 
pretty hard. If I use my mule kick, then the fact that my legs are three 
times as strong as my arms, plus the extra leverage I get because of the 
extra length, means that there isn't much that I can't smash with my 
legs. I kicked that car a few dozen times. I kicked in the windows, I 
smashed in the doors. I wrecked the fenders, the hood and the trunk. I 
left it a smashed-up wreck, and I left quite a few wet trousers among 
the men who watched me, breathlessly. Then I picked a couple of likely 
looking lads and told them to kneel down and worship my legs, to lick my 
thighs, to tongue my toes, and then to follow me home. I had a great 
time that night, but that's another story. 

Anyway, it isn't too hard to deadlift those wrists and pull then up and 
inwards, tearing all the tendons on his shoulders, and dislocating them 
into the bargain. The only hard part is to do it slowly, so that the 
pain keeps building up and up. I just want to yank those soft arms up 
and back, but I force myself to take it slowly, to let the pain build 
gradually. Each time he thinks the pain has peaked, I pull his arms up 
some more, to get more agony into his body, more pain. By the time I'd 
finished, his arms were useless for now, and probably severely damaged 
in the long run as well. And it makes a lovely noise as you do it, sort 
of popping, tearing and grinding, although you could barely hear it over 
the racket that weakdick is making. He's crying and screaming and 
carrying on like someone's hurting him real bad, which of course I am. 
But I'm done for now, time to let the pain subside so that he can 
appreciate what comes next. 

Chapter 11 - Wendy enjoys the show 

WENDY: 

At first, I hated her, because she was prettier than me, had better 
tits, and Loverboy looked like he was fixing to leave me for her. Not 
that Loverboy's any great catch. He was nice enough at first, but these 
days he smacks me around all the time, and I'm hurting bad sometimes. 
He's also a lousy lay, doesn't give a toss about anyone except himself. 
And when we got to her house and I saw her in that get-up, my first 
thought was "What a tart", but then I could see she was turning all the 
men on with her soft swirly blonde hair, and her soft swirly black 
negligee, and I wish I could look like that. Then Carol got Benjy to 
look after me, and he was sweet and gentle, and that was nice, and I 
couldn't figure out what the deal was here, I mean is she Andy's or 
Benjy's, or are they just house-sharing, or what? And what's that blue 
velvet little-boy outfit that Andy's all dolled up in? 

And then we went into the padded room, and I saw what Carol was doing to 
Loverboy. He was lying in pain on the floor, and I wondered why, until 
Carol walked over to him, turned him over, and pulled his arms up in 
some sort of wrestling hold that made him scream with agony, and his 
screams were like music in my ears. There, see what it feels like, I 
thought. He never stopped when I begged him to, and I hoped Carol 
wouldn't either. She looked like a great iron-bodied goddess standing 
over him. You could see her arms, and I wouldn't have thought you could 
get such arms on a woman. I looked down at my own arms, and they looked 
like matchsticks, and I thought how wonderful it must be to have arms 
like that. Then I looked down at my legs, and I think Carol's arms were 
bigger than my legs! 

As she slowly pulled his arms upwards and together behind his back, you 
could hear the cracking and popping as things inside tore and broke. I 
didn't know that arms could reach back at that angle, and I still think 
they can't. She got off his back and stood astride his body to get her 
balance, and the black silk fell away from her legs, and I changed my 
mind about wanting her arms. It was her legs I wanted. Each one was 
bigger than my waist. Jesus, each of her thighs looked bigger than my 
whole body, and I wanted those legs, I wanted the power and strength of 
those legs, and most of all, I wanted the power over men that those legs 
gave her. 

She kept pulling his arms up and together behind his back until they 
stood straight up from his body, the arms straight, the wrists together. 
Only then did she let them go, and Loverboy's arms just flopped to the 
floor, and his screams gradually turned into howling, and then to 
sobbing. It's funny; I made exactly the same noises when he hurt me. 
God, it would be great to be able to do that to a man. 

JIMBO: 

I lay there in pain, blood dribbling from my mouth. Gradually the sharp 
agony fades, to be replaced with a constant throbbing pain deep inside 
me. All I want to do is lie there and let the pain die down. I don't 
feel like moving, I just want to rest and let the pain slowly ebb away. 

She kneels over my prick, and pulls my body into a sitting position. The 
pain in my gut is appalling, and I'm having trouble just breathing. She 
holds my head against her large tits, and makes soothing noises, rocking 
me in her arms. The silk of her nightie is brushing against my prick, it 
feels really good, and I'm beginning to feel a lot better. I can't help 
it, I'm having another erection. Oh god, her body can bring me agony and 
ecstasy within minutes of each other. I started nuzzling her gentle 
nipples, wanting this to go on and on for ever. 

She's turning me to lie on my face, and stretching me out like a 
starfish. I can feel the soft silk of her hair on my back as she 
arranges my arms, and then the silk of her night-dress brushes the backs 
of my legs as she straightens me out. Now I feel really good about the 
situation. I want her, now. I want to fill her cunt with my prick, I 
want to drive it in until she screams, I want to give her what I've 
given so many other women, a taste of paradise. Maybe she's going to get 
underneath me now, so we can do it. 

She's so beautiful, how could it have been her that hurt me so much? All 
I ever wanted to do was make love to that beautiful body, to give her 
the pleasure that only a real man can give. But I've seen her big strong 
arms, and felt her hard muscles, and I know, deep down, that this lovely 
girl can do whatever she wants to me, or to any other man. I'm lying on 
my face now, with my arms stretched out, and all I want to do is let the 
pain flow away, and sleep. I feel a pair of feet on my back, and then 
two strong arms grip my wrists, lock my arms, and lift them up and 
backward into the air, and a white hot agony lances through each of my 
shoulders. I forget the pain in my body now, my shoulders are screaming 
as my wrists are being dragged up and back by an irresistible force. 

I can hear my shoulders popping and cracking as they give way under the 
terrible strain, and I can hear someone screaming, and it must be me, 
because it's hard to breathe. The pain is excruciating, I can't take it. 
Nothing has ever hurt me the way this hurts, it's like knives in my 
flesh, like medieval torture, like the universe is just pain, pain and 
more pain. I know that the girl is doing this to me, and I realise that 
it isn't just pain now, she's destroying my arms for ever. Her hands 
feel like G-clamps, digging into my wrists, but the pain from her grip 
is lost in the great flood of suffering from my shoulders. As she slowly 
brings my arms up and back, the pain gets worse and worse, and I can't 
take it, I just can't take it ... 

CAROL: 

There's no point in going on when he's unconscious, so I stopped, let 
his arms flop to the floor, and walked over to my audience. Wendy looked 
thrilled to bits. She'd suffered so much pain herself at the hands of 
this brute, she was really enjoying the way he was hurting now. I sat 
down next to her, and she timidly put a hand on my arm, and felt my 
bicep. I made it big for her, and her eyes widened as she felt its size 
and hardness. "Now, honey", I said. "Look at these guys", and I guided 
her hand to my thighs. Each of my thighs was bigger than her whole body, 
and she ran her hands up and down, feeling their size and marvelling at 
their hardness. She got down on her knees in front of me and stroked my 
legs up and down. "Ooh, Carol, they're tremendous. I wish I could be 
like this. How did you get them so big and hard?" 

Andy joined her on the floor, and they took one leg each. I spread my 
legs to give them better access, and leaned back and luxuriated in the 
feelings. I love it when people worship my legs, and it's the most 
natural thing in the world for most people, especially after I show them 
how, especially after I explain the alternatives. You'll never see 
anything as big, as hard, and as strong. You'll never see anything that 
can so naturally dominate any man, just by sheer existence, just by 
being there. Andy was more practiced at this, but Wendy was a natural. 
Being a woman herself helped; she knew exactly what to touch and how. 
"Benjy", I murmured, and Benjy joined them on the floor, taking my feet 
as his task for the day. Really, I shouldn't have to tell him. That's 
why he'll never by my number one boy. Andy showed Wendy how to use her 
tongue, and Benjy seemed to be trying really hard to give me the 
cleanest toes in the world. 

I thought about Wendy. Her tall, 180 centimeter body was far too thin, 
of course, maybe 55 kilos, but her large breasts held lots of promise, 
because large breasts on a woman means she has the right genetics for 
good development, and I thought that maybe with proper nutrition and 
lots of iron to pump, she might fill out to a decent size. She seemed to 
have learned the right attitude to men from Jimbo, and she certainly 
wouldn't want to stay with him after I'd finished working him over. She 
was clearly enjoying what I was doing, and I think she quite wished she 
could do the same. Well, maybe one day. "Wendy", I told her, "After 
we've finished here, I'll have a proper look at you. Maybe we can do 
something with your body, you look like you might have possibilities." 

Meanwhile Andy was working his way upwards towards my crotch, bless him, 
and I parted my legs a bit more to let him get deeper in. Sometimes I 
wonder about his common sense, though, because if his head was still 
between my thighs when I orgasmed, he might be in serious trouble. I've 
already lost a couple of boys that way, and it's a real nuisance to have 
to train new ones. 

Chapter 12 - Worshipping Carol 

ANDY: 

I wasn't going to let this new girl do a solo act on Carol, so I knelt 
down next to her to show Carol what an experienced pair of hands and 
tongue could do. After a few minutes, Benjy joined in down on her feet, 
and I wondered if maybe I should have taken that position. Carol has 
wonderful feet - small, delicate and incredibly sensitive. There aren't 
very many parts of her body that aren't covered with hard muscle, but 
those parts are very precious, because they tend to be extremely 
sensitive. Under her armpits, inside her elbow, the hollow of her throat 
and behind her knees. And her genitals, of course, that goes without 
saying. But apart from those, my favorite place on her body is her soft, 
complicated feet. Did you know that there are 54 bones in each human 
foot? Maybe you knew that, it's in all the medical books. But I bet you 
didn't know that if you get a woman in a good mood, and in the right 
atmosphere, you can give her an orgasm without touching anything except 
her feet. And the big advantage of that with Carol, is that you could do 
it without getting anywhere near the more dangerous places, like between 
her terrifying thighs, or anywhere her arms can reach. 

Anyway, it was too late now, Benjy was already there, so I had to make 
the best of what I had. And Carol's legs are wonderful to touch and 
lick, smooth, warm and hard like mahogany, and with exciting 
possibilities in a northerly direction. Wendy seemed to be concentrating 
on her calves, which was fine by me, as I had bigger fish to fry. I 
worked my way up, and my darling Carol spread her legs to make my job 
easier. Soon I had my head as far up as it would go, facing upwards into 
heaven. Slurp, gobble, slurp, lick, slurp, nibble, slurp. Pretty soon, 
Carol was making little mewing noises, and I knew that it was time to 
get my head out of the beartrap before the jaws closed. But I didn't 
want the other two to finish her off, I wanted that pleasure for myself, 
so I stayed just a little bit longer. I know, I know, I can be really 
stupid sometimes, but I adore her so much, I'd do anything to make her 
happy. And I stayed there just a little bit too long, because when I 
tried to pull out, two hard legs were gripping my head, and I couldn't 
extract myself. I tried to pull her knees apart, but I might as well 
have tried to lift a car (Carol actually does this sometimes, and it's 
the biggest turn-on you've ever seen). I thought about just keeping 
still and waiting for her passion to subside, but I could hear bloody 
Benjy still slurping away on her feet, and Wendy was busy just below me. 
If I didn't make her come, they probably would, and I'd get all the pain 
and none of the pleasure. So I continued my attack on her genitals 
despite the risk, and I just hoped that Benjy down there stopped her 
from locking her ankles together, because a leg squeeze without her 
ankles locked is just bearable, whereas if she locked her ankles and 
straightened her legs, I'd be badly damaged. 

WENDY: 

Carol let me touch her big arms, and I was thrilled at the feeling of 
her hard muscles under the soft skin. Then she moved my hands down to 
her thighs, and to get closer, I dropped to my knees and stroked her 
legs. When I was at school, we girls used to do this to each other, and 
it all came back to me, how to turn a woman into a quivering mass of 
sensation. Andy quickly joined me, stroking her other leg, and after a 
few minutes, Benjy arrived to lick her feet. Soon, she moved her legs 
apart so that Andy could move towards her crutch, and I concentrated on 
her lower legs. Her thighs were simply enormous, like tree trunks, and 
covered with soft, smooth skin, and tiny, downy hair. I'd give simply 
anything to have thighs like that; I can imagine the power that they 
give her over men. Just looking at them made me feel weak, and a man 
would find them erotic (at first) and incredibly destructive (if she 
wanted to be). But Andy was in the way, so I moved down to her calves, 
which were equally impressive. There's a spot on either side of the knee 
that I knew well, and another place inside the joint of the knee that 
responds well to being touched, and pretty soon I could hear the noises 
made by a woman approaching climax. 

BENJY: 

Carol finished ruining the guys arms, and I guessed that his arms alone 
would need weeks in hospital and considerable surgery to get any 
movement back into them. And Carol wasn't finished with him, she was 
just letting him recover a bit so he'd be able to feel the rest of it. 
You might call Carol a cruel sadistic bitch, but you'd better do it from 
a safe distance. She came over to us for some adoration, which Wendy and 
Andy promptly supplied. Honestly, I think that man has no pride at all, 
he went straight down onto his knees and started slobbering all over her 
legs. Of course, she likes degrading people, and when she noticed that I 
wasn't taking part in this spectacle, she frowned at me. Well, I'm not 
stupid, and when Carol frowns, you jump. I didn't fancy one of her 
punishment sessions. Andy seems to relish being hurt by her, but he's 
just a kid, and a complete idiot when it comes to self-preservation. He 
told me once that he'd rather be punished by Carol than make love to any 
ordinary woman, but I think it's the way that Carol fucks your mind up. 
After she punishes you, and while the pain is still throbbing through 
your body, she puts her arms round you, and cuddles you gently, whispers 
in your ear about how naughty you've been, tells you that she doesn't 
want to hurt you, and then crushes you into oblivion with her arms. I 
have to say, I have very mixed feelings about this myself. 
Intellectually, I know it's very dangerous; not just physically, but 
emotionally. She's making me associate pain with pleasure, pleasure with 
pain. She's showing me that I can get badly hurt, but then she'll give 
me those warm lovely feelings. But the cuddles are followed by Carol 
controlling my ability to breathe, the fundamental human need for air is 
dependent on her whim. And nothing can be more dominating than a woman 
who can stop your breathing with just her arms. 

So, I try to avoid Carol's displeasure whenever I can, and a frown is 
not a good sign. I immediately got down on the floor and started licking 
her feet. I know she likes this a lot, because she has soft, sensitive 
feet and it demonstrates my total submissiveness, which she also likes. 
I don't know what the other two were doing, but I was running one hand 
over the top of one foot, my other hand round the side of the other 
foot, while my tongue was getting deep between her toes. Pretty soon, 
all this stimulation was having the desired effect, and I heard her 
beginning to moan as her first climax arrived. 

CAROL: 

I always knew that two boys are better than one, but now I was 
discovering that two boys and a girl are the best. Andy's hands stroked 
my thighs while his tongue and nose stimulated my labia and clitoris. 
Wendy was doing some amazing things to my knees, and I could barely stay 
upright as her hands touched places that probably aren't meant to be 
touched that way. And Benjy was making my toes curl up and die with his 
tongue. I closed my eyes, and all I could hear was the sound of 
slurping, and the anguished sobbing of a broken weakdick. Bliss. I let 
them go on for longer than I should have, and then I decided to have an 
orgasm, even though Andy was in a very silly place, his head between my 
thighs. Honestly, I think he actually wants me to hurt him, sometimes, 
because if I do, I usually give him a big cuddle afterwards. I think 
maybe he's confused the cuddle with an expression of love, but he's only 
a puppy, and I can't take him seriously. 

Actually, I'm not too sure exactly what my sexuality is. I know I get a 
big charge out of smashing up a weakdick, and I know that I can get a 
good orgasm out of a couple of enthusiastic boys, but I don't have the 
longing for one big strong man that women are supposed to have. Well, 
maybe I do, but he'd have to be one amazing man to be able to keep me 
under control. Nor am I attracted to women, although Wendy is maybe 
changing my mind about that. I do like to see boys on their knees in 
front of me, like my boys are right now, and a big man trembling at the 
thought of my muscles is a definite turn-on. So what does that make me? 
I suppose I'm some sort of sadist when it comes to men, and I'm very 
dominant with boys like Andy; I wonder if I fit into some category? 
Humiliation is fun, too, and if I can mix sex, pain, fear and 
humiliation, I'm in heaven. I suppose people are all different, and 
everyone's partly something and partly something else. I guess I'm 
something else. I wonder if there's a word for it. 

So I listened to weakdick's crying and sobbing, and thought about all 
the nice things I could do to him with my big hard muscles, and the 
orgasm flooded through my body, and I'm afraid Andy got a raw deal 
again, because when I opened my eyes, he was lying on his back 
unconscious again. Honestly, I wasn't aware that I'd brought my legs 
together, but I suppose I must have. Poor Andy. He always seems to get 
the worst of things. I knelt down, sitting on my heels, and pulled his 
head into my lap, and let my big breasts nuzzle his head. That seemed to 
work, like it usually does, and he let me know he was back in the land 
of the living by kissing my nipples. I gave him to Wendy to look after, 
I told her to give him an orgasm, and as I walked back to have fun with 
weakdick, I thought how useful it would be to have Wendy around, because 
I could get her to do the messy-fluid stuff for the boys when they 
needed some encouragement. 

Chapter 13 - Jimbo's torment 

JIMBO: 

I came to in terrible pain. My whole body was on fire. I remembered what 
Carol had done to me; she'd destroyed my resistance with her fist in my 
belly, and then practically torn my arms off. She didn't seem to have 
the least compunction about smashing me up, and she didn't seem to have 
the slightest difficulty in doing it. I thought about those massive 
arms, and what else she might have in store for me, and then I thought 
about those horrifying thighs, and I cried like a baby. 

I tried to move my arms, and I couldn't. I could move my fingers; I 
could just about make a loose fist, but even that was a big effort, so I 
stopped trying. Whatever she wanted to do to me now, I wasn't going to 
be able to stop her. 

I could hear noises to my left, so I turned my head to look. Carol was 
standing, legs apart, arms behind her head, eyes closed. You could see 
the large, proud breasts standing out under the silk of her night-dress, 
you could see the big, hard muscles of the arms that had done so much 
damage to my body, and you could see the thighs that I could only hope 
she wouldn't use on me. The other three seemed to be worshipping her, or 
something. I wished I could do the same. I'd do anything to stop the 
terrible beating she was giving me, but even if she stopped right now, I 
wanted to go to her feet and humble myself. Wendy was one of the 
worshippers, I could see. Well, I couldn't blame her. Faced with Carol's 
terrible power, how could you do anything else? I wondered if she'd let 
me worship her, after she'd finished whatever she planned for me. I 
hoped so. 

She moaned, and arched her back, and I could see that she was having an 
orgasm. I could only hope that she'd fall asleep afterwards and leave me 
alone - maybe I could crawl away and hide somewhere. Her body tensed 
with sexual release, and the muscles on her thighs stood out like 
knotted cables, and I thought about what the guy with his head between 
them must be going through, and I thought about what it must be like if 
she were trying to use them to damage a man, and I just prayed that she 
wouldn't put me between those steel nutcrackers. Her moans got louder, 
and she shouted "Sammy", and her whole body shook with her climax. After 
a while, she opened her eyes, and shook her head, her hair flying round 
her. Then she looked down, and relaxed her legs. One of her worshippers 
fell to the floor as she did so, and lay there still. Maybe she'd killed 
him with her thighs? I wouldn't be surprised. I guessed that she 
certainly could if she wanted to, the only question was how gentle she'd 
been with him. But I can tell you, I'd have traded places with that guy 
in a moment, because his pain was over, and mine was just about to get 
worse. Because she shuddered all over, yawned, stretched, and walked 
slowly towards me, smiling in anticipation. 

CAROL: 

Playtime again! Weakdick was still crying on the floor, but he must have 
recovered somewhat, because he'd turned his head and was watching me. 
The little Peeping Tom must have watched as the boys licked me to a 
climax (I suppose I should say, boys and girl). He was in pretty good 
shape, actually. All I'd done so far was a couple of punches to the gut 
to get him softened up, and the shoulder stuff. I'm not sure exactly 
what happens when you butterfly-wing a guy, but the damage must be 
pretty serious, because I've never seen anyone use his arms after I'd 
done that. I expect they can repair it in the hospital, because I know 
they can do some pretty amazing things these days, what with heart, 
kidney and liver transplants. I would have thought repairing a couple of 
shoulders would be easy stuff by comparison. Time to start doing some 
serious damage. 

I walked sexily towards him, making my thighs flex at every step. He 
couldn't tear his eyes away from my immense quadriceps, as they bulged 
and flexed with each step. I made sure that he understood the implied 
threat as I stood over him, then squatted down. In the squat, my thigh 
muscles harden, expand and grow to an astounding size, and I made sure 
that he could see their size and hardness. 

"Stand up", I said. It's pretty hard to stand up when you don't have the 
use of your arms, so I had to help him. First of all I sat him up 
against my left thigh, so that he could feel you tough and hard it was. 
Then, I brought my right thigh round so that it was in front of his 
face, just brushing his nose. He immediately got the point, and started 
sobbing and begging for me to leave him alone. I like that. I like it 
when a man pleads with me, crying real tears, and making a complete fool 
of himself. It advances their state of degradation by stripping off a 
big coating of self-respect. And, of course, it doesn't make the 
slightest difference to what is going to happen next. I stood him up. He 
was several inches taller than me, and about 40 kilos heavier but with 
his arms dangling uselessly by his sides, and the tears streaming down 
his face, he didn't look like much of a threat. He looked like little 
Andy could handle him now. 

I stood in front of him, and ripped off his shirt. Then I grabbed the 
top of his jeans in one hand, and yanked downwards. The fabric tore 
without much difficulty, and his underpants simply disintegrated with 
one pull. When you're humiliating a man, it's always a good idea to 
strip him naked first. When you strip a man of his clothes, he instantly 
loses most of his dignity. It's important not to let him undress 
himself, because tearing his clothes off him lets him know how weak and 
insignificant he is. I moved gently towards him, pressing the full 
length of my body against him. My breasts pushed gently into his chest, 
my groin made contact with his genitals, and my legs touched his. The 
soft silk of my negligee against his skin aroused his sexual urges, and 
it was no great surprise to me that I felt an erection pressing against 
my genitals. Men are so easy to control. Pain, fear and humiliation, and 
then when they're well advanced down that golden path, I like to start 
using my sex, not to make them feel better, but to increase their 
embarrassment at being so easily conquered by a woman. It's so easy to 
give a man an erection, all you have to do is stroke them gently in one 
of several places. And it's even easier to take that erection away from 
them again, any sharp burst of agony will do that. If you do that often 
enough, his mind starts to get confused between pain and sex, and he's 
on the road to several big, permanent emotional problems. Eventually, 
you can twist and distort his sexual preferences, so that for the rest 
of his life he will seek out women who will hurt and humiliate him. 

I carefully put my arms round his body, inside his arms, touching his 
sides gently as my hands met behind his back. His erection raged hard 
against my body now, as we stood in a lover's embrace (except that his 
arms didn't work). I looked dreamily up into his face, and I swear that 
he must have thought Christmas had come early, because he tried to kiss 
me. Some people take a very long time to learn. I told him not to resist 
me, or I'd have to hurt him some more, that there were still plenty of 
places I could damage. I flexed my arms, gradually increasing the 
pressure round his chest. My breasts pressed harder into his body, and I 
slowly increased my arm pressure to the point I know well, the point at 
which a weakdick can't expand his chest. As he breathed out, I took up 
the slack, tightening my arms round him, so that when he tried to 
breathe in, he couldn't. At first, he didn't fight back, knowing how 
much I could hurt him if he resisted me. Then he realised that I wasn't 
going to relax my grip. I could see the panic building in his face, and 
his struggles to draw breath intensified. The breathing reflex is very 
strong, and in spite of my threats, he continued to try to escape my 
bearhug right up to the point where he passed out from lack of oxygen, 
and his body sagged against mine. 

Chapter 14 - Jimbo is crushed 

ANDY: 

I lay on the floor, recovering. Carol is going to kill me one day, but 
even  if I was completely sure that that was going to happen, I still 
couldn't keep away from her and her devastating thighs. I watched as she 
picked Jimbo up from the floor, put her arms round him, and squeezed him 
the way she'd squeezed me so many times, until he blacked out. He must 
have been in a lot of pain from her bear hug, but even so, I felt 
jealous, and wished that it was me inside those powerful arms. I suppose 
it's different for me. I know that Carol isn't going to do any permanent 
damage to me, at least not on purpose. And whenever she does hurt me by 
accident, she always makes it up to me with a cuddle. And this time, I 
not only got a cuddle, I got something rather wonderful from Wendy. Wow, 
that lady knows how to pull a man off. I kind of hoped that Carol would 
let her stick around; she seemed pretty useful when she helped me with 
Carol, not to mention the way she milked my dick of every last drop, and 
wouldn't let it go until she was sure it was all out. 

Whereas Jimbo knew that pain and a broken body was all he had in his 
future. I felt sorry for him. Sure, he'd beaten me up a couple of times, 
but he hadn't really hurt me very much. In fact, although his last go at 
me had been a couple of hours ago, the pain in my head from Carol's legs 
was far worse. 

There were noises on my left. Bloody Benjy was at it like hammer and 
tongs with Wendy. I was sure that Carol's instructions to Wendy had been 
just me, but Benjy was taking advantage of Carol's preoccupation with 
Jimbo to get some nookie for himself. Honestly, that guy is the flaming 
limit. I can't imagine what Carol sees in him. 

CAROL: 

I held Jimbo gently in my arms, feeling him pant for breath and waiting 
patiently for him to come back to life. After a few minutes, his eyes 
opened, and he looked down at me in fear as I tightened my arms round 
his body again, stopping him from breathing in. His head drooped close 
to mine, so I whispered into his ear "Don't struggle against me, or else 
next time I'll use my legs. My legs are a lot thicker, harder and 
stronger than my arms. If I ever wrap my legs round you, nothing will 
matter to you any more except how long it is before I do it again." I 
knew he'd been watching my legs, and understood what they could do to 
his poor, helpless body if I wrapped the 88 centimeter columns of steel 
round him and squeezed. 

He didn't fight me as I used my arms to crush the air out of him again, 
but the breathing reflex is unstoppable. When the oxygen level of the 
blood gets down to a certain level, there is no way that a man can 
voluntarily lay still. The body has to breathe to live, and it will do 
anything it can to allow that to happen. The last thing a drowning man 
does, is breathe in a lungful of water; there is no logic behind the 
reflex.  Jimbo simply couldn't help himself - in the last few moments 
before he blacked out, he struggled against my hug, even knowing what 
would await him if he succeeded. 

WENDY: 

I watched as she literally crushed him in her arms. He was helpless 
against her vastly greater strength, and I thought about what she'd said 
to me. Would it be possible? Could I really get strong and hard like 
Carol? She seemed to think it was a possibility. Wouldn't it be 
wonderful to be able to walk down a dark street and not be afraid of 
footsteps behind me? Wouldn't it be great to be able to live with a man 
and not have to worry about being beaten up? And, dare I hope it, 
wouldn't it be simply peachy to be able to hurt and physically dominate 
a man the way Carol could, so effortlessly? 

He passed out in her arms a couple of times, and she stood like an iron 
goddess holding him patiently until he recovered. If only I could have a 
body like hers, strong and hard, able to do anything she wanted to any 
man she liked (or disliked). Then she called out to me "Wendy, go fetch 
a can of beans from the kitchen." Beans? What did she want a can of 
beans for? 

ANDY: 

Wendy stood there like an idiot. When Carol asks you to do something, 
you don't stand and wonder why, you drop whatever you might have been 
doing, and do what she says. Well, she'll learn. She obviously didn't 
know what to do, but I did. I practically ran to the kitchen before 
Benjy could even move, and brought Carol what she wanted, plus a can 
opener in case she wanted that, plus a plate to put them on. I don't 
just do what she wants, I try to anticipate what she wants before she 
asks for it. I ran back; Benjy was glaring at me, and I smiled sweetly 
at him. He should have thought faster. I gave the can to Carol - she 
didn't seem to want the other items. 

BENJY: 

Oh no, not the can of beans again. Look at eager little Andy, doesn't 
even know he's born. The silly little boy's even brought a can opener 
and a plate! 

Chapter 15 - Pain, fear and humiliation 

CAROL: 

Now let's build the fear a bit. His body's in bad shape, and the pain 
must be dreadful. He's been looking at my legs the way a dungeon 
prisoner looks at the rack, and the oxygen-deprivation is pretty 
fearful. The humiliation is only just starting, his nakedness helps, and 
a pretty girl controlling his body the way I do is humiliating for any 
weakdick, but I want more fear and humiliation, and more pain. Time to 
give him a demonstration of what I could do to him if I felt like it. 

I let him drop to the floor, and soon Andy came back with the can of 
beans. I couldn't help laughing, he brought a can opener and plate - the 
darling boy was trying to guess what I wanted. What did he think, that I 
felt hungry? The only hunger I was feeling right now was for weakdick's 
body, spirit and mind. I stretched my hands over my head, and told Andy 
to take my negligee off - I didn't want it to get messed up. Andy ran 
his hands over my body as he helped me to get undressed - he does take 
liberties sometimes. I told him to take it upstairs and hang it up. 

I crouched down and slapped weakdick awake. I'd be smashing his face 
sooner or later, might as well start now. As soon as I had his 
attention, I stood up and put the can of beans between my thighs. I 
crossed my ankles, and then slowly straightened my legs. My thigh 
muscles tensed until they were as hard as mahogany, and slowly, the can 
began to crush. I have to say, this isn't easy even for me. I linked my 
hands behind my neck (yes, I know what this does to my breasts) and 
squeezed as hard as I could. The sides of the can caved inwards, and the 
top began to bulge, and then suddenly the steel couldn't stand up to the 
pressure from my powerful thighs, and it burst, spraying beans 
everywhere. I unlinked my ankles, spread my legs apart, and stood there, 
daring anyone to put their soft frail weakdick body between my man-
crushing thighs. No takers, of course. 

"Andy", I commanded. Andy looked scared, as well he might. "Clean me 
up." Andy scurried to me, knelt down and started licking beans off me. 
Everyone watched Andy's tongue licking and swallowing baked beans. 
"Jimbo", I commanded. I had Jimbo's full attention. I moved my legs 
apart, letting Andy get between them. "Clean up the floor." He looked up 
at me, puzzled. I squeezed Andy gently between my legs, and he squealed. 
"Jimbo, I want you to lick every bean off the floor. Right now! Or 
you'll be where Andy is now, and I won't be so gentle." I released Andy 
so he could finish cleaning me off, and watched as Jimbo started 
squirming around the floor, eagerly licking up beans. It was hard for 
him to get around without the use of his arms, and I could see he had a 
long job ahead of him. "Benjy, time for dinner." I closed the playroom 
door to leave Jimbo to get on with it, and decided to see how serious 
Wendy was, so I took her down to the gym. 

BENJY: 

I was beginning to wonder if we'd be eating. It looked like dinner for 
four, and although I'd only made enough for three, I thought I'd add 
some bread, and put in a can of baked beans, and stretch things a bit. 
Andy laid the table, while Carol took Wendy down to the basement gym, to 
show her the equipment. Carol returned, dressed for dinner, wearing a 
short skirt and a silky T-shirt. The skirt didn't do anything to hide 
those glorious thighs, and the T-shirt didn't so much hide her breasts, 
as accentuate them. She really does have the most extraordinary breasts, 
full and firm, high and with just the slightest hint of a bounce. 

We all sat down to eat, which made it even harder to take my eyes of 
Carol's thighs. They're big enough when she's standing, but when she 
sits down and each thigh spreads wide, it's really a sight. Her thighs 
are so big and hard, she can't keep her knees together, so she sits with 
her legs apart. She can't wear trousers, of course - you just cannot get 
trousers to fit a 35 inch thigh, and yet have a sensible waist size. So 
she always wears skirts, and being Carol, short ones. Of course, even 
though she's sitting with her legs apart, you can't see her pussy, 
because those gigantic thighs obscure the view. But it doesn't take much 
imagination to see that you're probably looking at the most incredible 
fuck in the world, and it takes even less imagination to realize that if 
she brings those man-crushers together, you really don't want to be 
between them. 

After dinner, Andy helped me with the dishes while Carol talked with 
Wendy over coffee, and then we all went to bed. In our house, that's a 
bit complicated, so I suppose I'd better explain a bit about how it 
works. 

Carol has the master bedroom, of course, and Andy and I share the second 
bedroom. That works quite well, because if Carol's at home, then she 
usually wants at least one of us, so the other one doesn't have to share 
the bed. Either she tells us what's going to happen before we retire, or 
else she leaves us to go to bed, and then comes in later and picks one 
of us up. Sometimes, literally, over her shoulder. 

If she isn't there, or if she's invited some guy round for sex, then we 
have to double up, although I'm not too keen on sharing my bed with a 
man. I'm even less keen on having to explain to Carol why I used her bed 
in her absence, and Andy's just the sort of sneak who'd tell her. 
Usually, when Carol invites someone round, it's not for sex, it's for 
pain, fear and humiliation, so if he sleeps at all, it's on the floor of 
the playroom. And that's where Jimbo was tonight, of course. I wondered 
where Wendy would be going; either the spare room, or in with Carol? And 
I wondered whether Wendy was permanent - Carol seemed to have taken 
quite a shine to her. 

CAROL: 

Wendy was cute, but I didn't feel up to any torrid sex right now. First 
of all, I'd had rather a lot in the last 24 hours, and secondly I just 
felt like sleeping. I wonder, maybe I'm getting old. So I put Wendy into 
the spare room, and went to bed alone, which is a bit unusual for me. 
And I really was tired, I fell asleep practically straight away. 

ANDY: 

I lay in bed awake, listening to Benjy's snoring, hoping that Carol 
would come and collect me. She'd been magnificent today, like a goddess 
in her black silk negligee, with her blonde hair streaming behind her, 
and a weakdick screaming underneath her hands. I love her so much, maybe 
if I crept into her room and licked her feet very gently - no, last time 
I tried that she punished me because I'd woken her up. But I couldn't 
just lie there and listen to Benjy sawing up logs. I took a couple of 
blankets, and curled up outside Carol's bedroom door. At least I'm near 
her. 

Chapter 16 - Jimbo falls in love 

JIMBO: 

I didn't like to think what would happen if I didn't do as she 
commanded. I'd seen her thighs, each one bigger than an average man's 
body. They looked like carved mahogany, and felt about as hard when I'd 
touched them. I couldn't imagine how much crushing force it took to 
burst a can of beans, but I knew for sure that I didn't want to find out 
the hard way. I knew that my body couldn't possibly offer as much 
resistance as a sealed steel can, and the way that the can had burst 
under the pressure played and replayed itself in my brain. I was really 
scared that she'd treat me the same way, and it would be like getting 
into a car-crusher. I felt totally intimidated, completely cowed. I'd 
seen her legs up close, and touched them, and I thought about what they 
would do to my body in its weakened condition, and I thought about what 
her legs would do to me even if I weren't feeling like I'd been run over 
by a truck. 

So I crawled around the floor, unable to use my ruined arms, and tried 
to lick up every single bean. As I moved round the room, I couldn't help 
thinking about the extraordinary woman whose fists had so easily 
destroyed my ability to resist, and how with an iron grip on my wrists, 
her hands had ruined my shoulders. Even more, I thought about how she'd 
held me in her arms so gently, my naked body against her, feeling the 
silky softness of her night-dress, and the iron hardness of her muscles. 
And how that gentle embrace had turned into a crushing, bruising clasp 
of pain, how she'd so easily controlled my breathing with her grip, and 
how much my chest hurt even now. I remembered the panicky feeling of 
being unable to breathe in, and of blacking out not knowing whether I'd 
ever see the light again. But most of all, I remembered the terrible 
threat of her legs, of the tree-trunk thighs that would burst my body 
like a ripe plum. I just couldn't get those appalling thighs out of my 
mind, I just kept on and on thinking about my utter helplessness when I 
was faced by them, and how much damage she could do to me if she ever 
decided to use them on me. 

By the time I'd finished, I was exhausted, and I had a raging erection. 
And I couldn't get Carol out of my mind. I was terrified of what she 
might do to me, but I was fascinated by the sheer animal power and 
sexuality that I'd felt. I wanted her ... I wanted her anyway I could, 
any way she'd have me. If she wanted sex, then I'd fuck her any way she 
wanted until I dropped, or let her fuck me until I was broken. If she 
wanted to hurt me, then that was fine too, she could hurt me as much as 
she wanted, I wouldn't be able to stop her anyway. Anything, as long as 
I could worship my goddess Carol. And if only I would be allowed to lick 
her magnificent thighs, those terrible instruments of pain. I hadn't 
even felt her thighs round me and I was trembling at the thought of 
them. I'd experienced her arms, just her arms round me, and they were 
enough to give a man nightmares. But her legs, her legs. As I thought of 
them, my penis oozed, and I looked down at it. I almost screamed at what 
I saw; something must be badly wrong inside me, because that was blood 
seeping from my prick. 

I wriggled to a wall, and bracing myself against it, with terrible pains 
in my stomach, I stood up. I stayed as still as I could, letting the 
agony inside me subside to a bearable level, and then I went to the 
door, and opened it. That wasn't easy with arms that still hung 
uselessly by my side, but after several attempts with my foot, I managed 
to turn the handle. The door swung open - it wasn't locked. I walked out 
and looked around. I could see the front door - through there I could 
walk to safety and freedom from pain, to a hospital where maybe they 
could fix my shoulders, although I was terribly afraid that being bent 
right back like that had done permanent damage. I could also see the 
stairs, and I knew that SHE was up there, probably in bed, probably 
wearing something silky and sexy, probably accompanied by one or more of 
her consorts, probably with those huge, powerful legs wrapped round a 
soft man's body, crushing him into oblivion. Which way would you go, 
outside to freedom, or upstairs to more pain and degradation? 

I knew I was making the wrong choice. I knew I was doing a really stupid 
thing. But I had some idea that maybe she'd be soft and gentle this 
time, maybe she'd let me do what the others had done to her awesome 
legs, maybe she was in a good mood. I walked slowly up the stairs, my 
better judgement wrestling with my obsessive compulsion about the iron 
goddess of pain. I reached the top of the stairs and looked around. 
There were several closed doors, but one of them had a man slumped in 
front of it. I guessed that this would be Carol's room. I opened the 
door, and carefully stepped over the sleeping figure. I could see Carol 
lying asleep on the bed, wearing a short white silk night-dress that 
left very little to the imagination. I thought that waking her up would 
be asking for trouble, but my compulsion drew me closer and closer. 

She was lying on her back, her hands by her head. The arms that had 
crushed my body looked soft and feminine now that they were relaxed, the 
hands that had clamped round my wrists while tearing my shoulders looked 
gentle and female. Her hair lay round her head in a soft halo, and she 
had a small smile as she slept. Her body looked magnificently erotic in 
the white silk, and her chest rose and fell as she breathed, drawing 
attention to her large breasts and noticeable nipples. My gaze slipped 
down her body to her legs, to the thighs that had so terrorized me 
earlier. 

They didn't look so frightening now that they were relaxed. They looked 
warm, with a soft fuzz on them - even cuddly. They were still much 
larger than I had ever imagined a woman's thighs could be; even her 
calves were bigger than I would have thought possible, and she wasn't 
even flexed. Looking at them brought back the memory of what she was 
capable of doing with them, and that led to memories of how much she'd 
hurt me with her arms, and a shudder of fear went through me. Even 
asleep, this woman was terrifying. Her overwhelming power, and her love 
for causing me pain made my knees tremble. Her ankles were small and 
neat, her feet were delicate and detailed, and I remembered the way that 
her consorts had licked them in adoration, and I wished I could do the 
same. She obviously wasn't in love with either of them, but she seemed 
to protect them, and as I regarded her sleeping body, I wished I had 
someone like her protecting me. 

Wouldn't it be wonderful if her strong arms were round me holding me, 
keeping me safe and warm, instead of crushing the air out of my lungs 
and making me pass out. And her legs were much stronger than her arms. 
The strength of a muscle is proportional to its density (which equates 
to hardness), and to its cross-sectional area. Area is proportional to 
the square of the circumference (pi/3 times circumference squared, to be 
exact). So, if her legs were 70% bigger than her arms, they would be 
about three times as powerful. I'd felt the force of her arms, and in 
retrospect, I thought that she hadn't been exerting her full power, 
because she didn't seem to be making a great effort. So I thought about 
those big tough legs round me, and I shuddered, and a feeling of utter 
helplessness came over me. 

I wanted to run and hide, to go somewhere safe and secure, where nothing 
could hurt me. I crawled onto her bed, and lay down between her legs, 
putting my head as close to her crotch as it would go, with my face 
nestling against one of her thighs. She moved slightly in her sleep, and 
her legs moved closer together, enclosing my head in a gentle grip. The 
pain in my shoulders and belly ebbed to a dull throb, the feel of 
Carol's legs round me soothed my mind, and I eventually fell asleep. 

Chapter 17 - Between Carol's thighs 

CAROL: 

You'll never believe what I found between my thighs when I woke up! 
Sometimes Andy creeps into my room while I'm ravishing Benjy, and I find 
him down there in the morning, but this morning, I woke up with the sun 
streaming in through my window, and a head between my thighs. I gave it 
a friendly squeeze, sat up and was surprised to find a rather battered 
Jimbo fast asleep, nuzzling up to my legs. "Jimmie", I called him, and 
squeezed a bit harder. He woke up immediately, and started licking me. 
It's really hard to be angry at someone who's licking the inside of your 
thighs, so I splayed my hands out behind me, closed my eyes, leaned my 
head back and just enjoyed the feeling. 

ANDY: 

Well really! I was woken up by noises from inside her bedroom; when I 
went in, I found Carol in a state of bliss, and the new guy was between 
her legs bringing her to climax. He obviously didn't realize the 
imminent peril that he was in. When Carol has a big orgasm, you really 
don't want your head between her thighs. I stood and watched for a 
little while, than I figured that as long as it was someone else who was 
going to get squashed by her legs, I might as well help things along. 
And with her legs round him, and her arms reaching backwards to support 
her body, I wouldn't get hurt at all - it was perfect. Maybe it would 
teach this guy not to try to take my place. I knelt on the bed over 
Carol, with my knees on either side of her waist, leaned forward so that 
she could take my weight, and started caressing her proud breasts. Her 
lovely eyes opened, and she raised her head and smiled at me. 

I smiled back, and concentrated on her breasts and nipples - apparently, 
there's some sort of direct line between these and a woman's vagina. I 
was too busy to notice what anyone else was doing, and it wasn't until 
that I felt her arms round me that I realized my mistake. With Jimmie's 
weight on her legs, she didn't actually need her arms to support her 
body. She had tensed her abdominals, and supported her body (and my 
weight) with her powerful stomach muscles. Now she had her arms round 
me, and she was obviously building up to something rather big, and I 
couldn't do anything to stop it. In fact, I've been in a similar 
position before, and did manage to stop her from orgasming, and she was 
so angry about it, that it was a week before I felt halfway human again. 
On the whole, I think, it hurts less to endure her involuntary muscle 
spasms, than to find yourself in her playroom with no way out except 
after Carol has finished punishing you. 

CAROL: 

Ooh, Andy, that's nice, don't stop, mmmhhh. What a lovely way to wake 
up. Oh, yes. Oh, no, no. Yes, yes, yes.  No-no-no. Nonononono - aaaaah!  
AAAh! AAAAHHH! SAMMY! Ooh, ooh, ooh! Ummmmm. 

Whew. That was nice. I tried really hard not to spasm with my legs, 
because I knew that poor Jimmie would get badly hurt if I did, and I 
think I managed to control myself well enough. Unfortunately, Andy got a 
bit squashed in my arms, and seems to have passed out again, well, he's 
used to it. Let's just check up on Jimmie. At least he's moving, he 
doesn't seem to realize he can stop licking now. 

I rolled Andy off me and left him to recover on the bed, and pulled 
Jimmie up from between my legs. He didn't stop his busy little tongue, 
though, so I gave him one of my nipples to work on, while I held him in 
my arms, and stroked his back. 

Jimmie seems a lot nicer now than before. He's lost the aggressive, 
nasty streak and become much gentler and considerate. I pulled him off 
my nipple, I really can't spend the entire day doing this, you know. I 
put my hand under his jaw, and asked him how he felt. He cast his eyes 
down submissively. "Please don't hurt me, please", he whispered. I 
smiled at him, and told him not to be such a silly, gave him a quick 
kiss, and bounced out of bed. 

JIMMIE: 

She's the most wonderful person in the world, and I'm going to devote 
the rest of my life to doing everything I can to make her happy. I woke 
up this morning, and found her legs had tightened round my head, 
although not painfully so. I immediately started licking everything I 
could reach, and I guess I did the right thing, because first of all she 
had an orgasm, and secondly she didn't hurt me. Afterwards, she pulled 
me up to face her, told me that she wasn't going to hurt me any more, 
and then she did probably the most wonderful thing that has ever 
happened to me. She kissed me. The warmth spread down my body all the 
way to my toes, and out to my finger tips. Her kiss had brought my arms 
back to life - I could feel my hands, even move my fingers a little. I 
tried moving my arms, and although my shoulders hurt badly, I could just 
about manage a couple of inches of movement. Maybe I wasn't permanently 
damaged after all. The sun was shining, Carol was taking off her white 
silk night-dress, and I was happy. Then she turned to me, and pulled it 
over my head, and I could smell her body on it, and I was in seventh 
heaven. 

CAROL: 

I pulled on a T-shirt and a skirt. Sometimes I wish I could wear shorts, 
but when you've got 88cm thighs, you can't find shorts that fit. But I 
don't like anything constricting my movements, especially when I'm 
pumping iron, so I wear a fairly short skirt, pleated, very full. I can 
kick my leg above my head without tearing it, which I probably couldn't 
in shorts, even if you could get shorts to fit me, which you can't. Andy 
was still out cold, and Jimmie was sitting on the bed, staring 
worshipfully at me with big eyes. He was kinda cute, really, it would be 
a pity to carry out the rest of my plans for him. Well, we'd see how it 
went. Maybe he would revert to being the sullen bully, and I'd have to 
rough him up some more. He was naked, and I'd shredded his clothes in my 
playroom, so I helped him put on my white nightie, which covered him up 
a bit, and made him look even cuter. I told him to look after Andy, and 
went looking for Wendy. 

Chapter 18 - Wendy takes up weightlifting 

WENDY: 

For the first time for ages, I slept well. There was no-one slapping me 
around, no-one expecting me to wait on them hand and foot, no-one 
screwing me whether I felt like it or not. I woke up feeling really good 
about life. My first thought was Jimbo, and then I remembered that he 
wasn't any kind of threat after what Carol had done to him. I hugged my 
pillow and grinned. 

Carol came bouncing into the room. "Come on, sleepyhead" she called 
brightly, and dragged me out of bed, onto the floor. I lay there dazed 
for a moment, and Carol helped me to my feet, took my hand, and pulled 
me down the stairs. We wound up in her gym, and she explained to me how 
if I wanted to be strong, I had to work hard to get there. I told her I 
wanted nothing else, that if I could be anything like her, I'd make any 
sacrifice. She was so obviously in control of her life, and I wanted to 
be the same. She showed me some complicated machine, told me to get into 
it, and started me working. meanwhile, she started doing her own 
exercises. 
                                                           
We were there for hours. She wasn't only lifting weights that I would 
have thought needed a hydraulic jack, but she was doing punching 
practice. She had a padded bag, and it was rigged up to some kind of 
electronic apparatus, because after each punch, it registered how hard 
it was. After punching it for a while, she attached elasticated straps 
to her boxing gloves, leading to a fixed O-ring behind her, and carried 
on punching with those in place. After some time doing this, she 
suspended a 25kg weight from each glove, and punched with those weighing 
her down. I couldn't imagine how any man could stand up to the full 
force that she was capable of delivering, and said so. 

She agreed, but explained that there was no such thing as too strong. 
She liked to use only a small part of her total power on a weakdick, 
because she got a kick out of destroying him without any real effort. I 
asked if I could try punching, and she taped up my hands, put gloves on 
me, and let me try. I wasn't surprised to see that my punches barely 
registered on the scale compared to hers, but she told me not to worry, 
that it was early days, and that I'd soon be making it go off the scale. 

We went upstairs for lunch. When I saw Jimmie (apparently, Carol changed 
his name), I was, well, a bit surprised. There is no way that the macho 
Jimbo would flounce around the house wearing a white silk nightie, but 
that was exactly what Jimmie was wearing, and without any apparent 
shame. I began to understand the effect Carol had on men's 
personalities, and why Andy and Benjy were the way they were. 

BENJY: 

Andy looked rather the worse for wear, as usual. He staggered down this 
morning, and he's spent most of the time today moaning softly, nursing 
his battered ribs, and loafing around looking helpless, like he usually 
does. Still, he does seem to get the worst of Carol; she's usually quite 
gentle with me. Wendy, on the other hand, was positively glowing. She'd 
spent the morning with Carol, and the exercise seemed to agree with her. 
Carol looked wonderful, as usual. But the most extraordinary sight was 
Jimmie. The big bad hombre was gone, and in his place there was a vision 
in white silk - he was wearing one of Carol's nighties, and he seemed to 
be enjoying the experience. He looked totally absurd, sitting meekly at 
the table. What looked erotic and sexy on Carol, just made Jimmie look 
like a complete fool. 

I served up lunch. Carol got a large steak, eggs, three lamb chops, a 
large slice of sausage, a half pound slab of liver and a quart of milk 
to drink. The rest of us had rather more modest fare, a ploughman's 
lunch. But when I served Wendy, Carol looked up and frowned at me. "What 
sort of a meal is that for a growing girl?", she asked. I blushed and 
grovelled. "Sorry, Carol", I said, and got down on my hands and knees, 
and closed my eyes, waiting for the legs round my head, my punishment. 
When it came, it was remarkably light, and when I opened my eyes 
afterwards, I could see why. Carol had let Wendy discipline me, and 
Wendy didn't have a pair of man-crackers like Carol's. Carol can be 
rather sweet sometimes. 

ANDY: 

I staggered downstairs, and slumped into a chair. Benjy kept glaring at 
me, I don't know why. But I got my own back at lunch - he made the 
mistake of serving up a cheese-and-onion lunch to Wendy instead of a 
Carol-type bodybuilders meal, and Carol told Wendy to punish him. Serves 
him right, I thought. Carol beckoned me over and took my hand, and then 
she and Wendy took me downstairs. 

I hate being in her gym. While I'm there, I'm constantly reminded of the 
hard, brutal side of Carol, and she makes me do horrid things, like 
pound her belly with a heavy mallet. I'm constantly afraid that either I 
won't hit her hard enough, and she'll get angry with me, or else I'll 
hit her too hard and hurt her, which doesn't bear thinking about. This 
time was worse than most. 

CAROL: 

Wendy looked like she had a lot of potential. She was tall, about 180 
cm, and her body was big boned. She was terribly emaciated, though, and 
weighed in at 59 kilos. It would take some time to build her up 
properly, and Benjy's idea of food wasn't helping much, although he 
wouldn't make that mistake again. Wendy was motivated now, but would she 
stay that way? I wanted to reinforce Wendy's willpower, so instead of 
getting her to sock away at a punch bag, I got Andy to stand up for her. 
She wasn't strong enough to do him any damage, so I wasn't worried. 

ANDY: 

She didn't hurt me much. I stood there with my stomach tensed, hoping 
that Carol wouldn't demonstrate to her how to do it. 

CAROL: 

Sometimes I can be really dim. Of course Andy wasn't the right man for 
this job. I gave him a kiss to make him feel better, and a bit of a 
cuddle, and told him to go fetch Jimmie. 

WENDY: 

And then Jimmie stood there, looking very fetching in Carol's white 
satin night-dress, and I practiced my punching on the tummy that Carol 
had weakened to much with her fists. It was great. He just stood there 
and took it, his eyes on Carol, who was lifting great masses of iron 
again and again. You could see the two-inch bar that carried the weights 
bending and flexing as she lifted and lowered, lifted and lowered, and I 
hammered and hammered away at Jimmie's tummy. Occasionally, Carol's eyes 
would meet mine, and she'd smile at me, and I could see Jimmie's penis 
rising under his skirt, but then the pain from my fists took over his 
full attention. 

BENJY: 

That evening, I did myself proud, if I do say so myself. I sent Andy out 
shopping, and I did roast duck a la Benjy. I did four ducks, because I 
know Carol likes this, and I wanted to make up for my lunch blunder, and 
I guess Wendy will have a big appetite after a day's exercise on not 
much food. 

When they came to the table, Andy looked really pleased with life, Carol 
looked devastating in a dark blue dress, with pearls round her neck. She 
smelled faintly of perfume, and she'd put something round her eyes. Her 
arms were bare, her skirt was short, and she looked sexy and deadly. 
Wendy had dressed up for dinner too; Carol had sent Andy back to her 
former home to pick up her clothes. Jimmie was still wearing Carol's 
white nightie, and looked like someone had been pounding on him with a 
hammer all day, which was almost the case. I doubt if Wendy could hit 
very hard, but she'd been very, very persistent. Carol looked up as I 
laid the duck on the table with a flourish, and smiled at me, and it's 
times like that that make it all worth while. Then she looked over at 
Jimmie, and told him that he mustn't eat anything, because if he got 
duck on her nightie, it would spoil it. Jimmie offered to take it off. 

ANDY: 

Jimmie looked in very rough shape from the hours that Wendy had spent 
punching him. She wasn't very strong, so each blow didn't hurt very 
much, but his stomach had been weakened yesterday by Carol, and Wendy 
just didn't let up for a moment. He was still wearing Carol's nightie, 
and when Benjy served up a mouth-watering duck dinner, Carol looked over 
at him and told him to hold off. He argued with her, and I smiled. You 
don't argue with Carol. She got up from the table, and walked round to 
his chair. She sat on his lap, and wrapped her legs round his body and 
the chair back. Five minutes later, we needed a new chair, and Jimmie 
wasn't in too good condition either. We ignored him as he lay 
unconscious on the floor, and tucked in. 

Chapter 19 - Carol takes Wendy 

CAROL: 

That evening, I decided to take Wendy to bed with me. She'd done rather 
well on Jimmie, and the all-day workout had left both of us in a totally 
horny state. First of all, I took her into the bathroom, where we had a 
delightful time, soaping each other and splashing water about. Andy 
stuck his head in, but I frightened him off with a frown. 

And so to bed, where Wendy demonstrated that a girl knows best how to 
please a girl, because she's got the same genitals. She was obviously 
experienced in this, and she used her gentle hands and clever tongue to 
bring a flood of sensation washing over my body. She'd seen what 
happened to men who got between my legs or inside my arms, so she lay 
behind me and reached round my body to do the lovely things she was 
doing to me. As I orgasmed, I crushed a pillow between my thighs, and 
another one in my arms, and because I didn't need to use any self-
control, I think it was probably the biggest orgasm of my life. 
Afterwards, we both fell asleep in the spoons position. Sex is the best 
sleeping potion in the world. The next thing I knew it was morning, and 
there was something soft and silky between my legs again. 
 
It was Jimmie again, and I stimulated him into action with a gentle 
squeeze from my legs. His lapping tongue and Wendy's experienced fingers 
soon brought me to a shuddering climax, but after last night, I forgot 
about not flexing my thighs when I came, and by the time it was all 
over, there was an unconscious man on my bed again. I told Andy to clear 
up the mess, and to get my night-dress back and cleaned, and to get 
Jimmie his own clothes, for heaven's sake. 

BENJY: 

Cook, cook, cook. All I seem to do is cook. No sooner is one meal 
finished and cleared away, than it's time to start the next. And now I'm 
cooking for two more. I don't mind catering for Carol, but Andy's an 
ungrateful young squirt, and I never agreed to do for Wendy and Jimmie. 
And does anyone ever so much as say thanks? Oh no, they just take me for 
granted. Good old Benjy, he'll cook it, wash it, clean it, whatever. 
There's blood on Carol's lovely sexy white nightie, and I think I can 
guess whose blood it is, but does Jimmie apologize? Does he be blowed. 
Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out of white 
silk? I sent Andy out for some white vinegar, you can't use brown, not 
on whites. And there's more towels being used than the washing machine 
can handle, so I sent Andy out again to the laundry. Jimmie's no help, 
his arms are still to weak for him to even lift them. All he's good for 
is for Wendy to use as a punch bag, although he does seem to be rather 
good at that. 

And it's Wednesday, so I have to go round and change the sheets, and 
there's more blood, and if you think I've got time to make the sheets 
whiter than white, you can think again, I just bung them into the 
machine. You get so much blood on the sheets in this house, you'd think 
it was an abattoir. And the carpets need vacuuming, and Andy's useless 
at that, so I send him upstairs to make the beds, and when I go up 
later, I find him curled up on Carol's bed with his arms round her big 
furry rabbit, and if she ever found him like that, she'd make him wish 
he'd never been born. Why does Andy do such stupid things? Carol's 
rabbit is definitely off limits. Yes, a big, cuddly, furry rabbit. Yes, 
I do mean Carol, and it is a big furry rabbit, I know. Don't ask. Just 
don't ask. You don't ask Carol questions like that, not if you've got 
any sense, so none of us know. 

So I turfed him out, and gave the rabbit a big soft kiss and a bit of a 
cuddle (it smelt of Carol, and was rather nice, and why should Andy have 
all the fun?) and I sent him out to buy some clothes for Jimmie, as 
Carol had commanded. The dear boy was out an hour, and came back with 
several extra extra large T-shirts (Carol would grab the best of those 
for herself) half a dozen nylon night-dresses (good, because nylon is 
easy to wash, even to get blood out, and I was expecting to see a fair 
amount of that as Wendy put on muscle) and a few medium-length skirts. 

I took the garbage out, washed the dishes, cooked lunch, washed the 
dishes again, and ironed Carol's best blue dress, as it had some 
wrinkles in it from last night. Andy kept scurrying around, getting in 
my way, until I sent him out to buy a chair to replace the one that 
Carol had crushed with her legs. A man's work is never done. And in the 
middle of everything, while I was basting the chicken, the doorbell 
rang, and I realized that Andy was out shopping, Jimmie was being a 
punchbag, I guessed that it would be as sensible to expect Wendy to do 
anything as it would be to ask Carol to scrub the floor, and it was poor 
old muggins again who had to drop everything and answer the door. 

So I answer the doorbell, and there's this guy standing there, middle 
aged, bit of a beer belly. "Yes?" I asked, impatient to get back to the 
kitchen. He gave me a friendly grin. "Hi. I'm Sam Rabbit. Is Carol in?" 
I looked at him, up and down. I've never seen him before, but he could 
be some friend of Carol's from before I knew her, or he could be some 
salesman who got her name from a phone book, and Carol doesn't like to 
be bothered while she's training. "Are you a friend of hers?", I asked. 
"You could say that", he replied, which told me nothing. "Can I come 
in?". If I say no, and he is a friend of Carol's, I'm in trouble. If I 
say yes, then maybe he's in trouble. Oh, Andy, why aren't you here, you 
could have answered the door. So, I took the least risky route, and 
invited him in. 

I led him into the kitchen, sat him down, and offered him a cup of 
coffee. I was hoping to keep him quiet until Carol came back from her 
workout, and then it would solve itself. He sat on one of the kitchen 
chairs, and told me that he'd been abroad for a while, but had just 
gotten back, and wanted to see how Carol was getting on. It began to 
sound like he really was an old friend, but maybe this was just 
salesman's patter, you know how they always wanted to talk to the 
"decision maker", which Carol certainly was. He told me that he had 
something for her, and showed me a parcel, but that still left the 
situation ambiguous. But then Andy solved everything by coming back with 
the new chair, so I told him that a friend of Carol's was here to see 
her, and could he tell her that Mr Rabbit was waiting in the kitchen, so 
that meant any problems would fall on Andy, and he's used to being 
punished by Carol, and actually likes it. He came back following Carol, 
who almost flew into the room, screaming "Sammy", slammed straight into 
him, smashing him onto the kitchen table, and almost killed him. 

ANDY: 

She screamed "Sammy". I've heard that a few times before. It's what she 
screams when I get her to a really big orgasm, just before her arms or 
her legs crush me into oblivion yet again. 

Chapter 20 - Sam arrives 

SAM: 

Golly, Carol can be a bit too enthusiastic sometimes. She hit me like a 
hurricane, squashed me like a grape, and covered me with so many kisses 
I couldn't breathe. That's Carol, all right. The room was full of people 
by now - where do these instant crowds come from? Then she bounced up, 
grabbed my hand, and dragged me up the stairs to her bedroom. I managed 
to slow her down a bit by giving her the present I'd brought, a red 
satin night-dress and negligee with frothy lace, bows, silky sleeves and 
red fluffy mules. I noticed that the big furry rabbit I'd given her was 
lying on her pillow, which I took as a very good sign. But she wasn't 
distracted for long, and I had to try really hard to get my clothes off 
before she just ripped them off. 

You don't want to know what happened over the next few hours, you really 
don't. It's boring and repetitive. Just variations on a theme. Lots of 
shouting and screaming, lots of bodily fluids. You've seen it all 
before, I'm sure, maybe not quite so violent and prolonged. I hadn't 
seen Carol for a very long time, and she'd acted like she'd been 
celibate since I last saw her, which was about as likely as pigs flying. 
She certainly had a mighty big itch to scratch, and I was the scratching 
post, not that I objected. And it was a very long time for me as well. 
Of course there had been girls, and even one or two women, but Carol 
isn't like other women, you know. 

Every few minutes we stopped to get our breath back, but then we went 
back at it like rabbits. Every time I could feel her orgasm about to 
break, I rolled over fast, off the bed, where she couldn't reach me. 
She, of course, didn't have any worries like that. She would kneel on 
top of me, her powerful vagina enclosing my relatively soft penis, and 
constrict and ripple her internal muscles until I couldn't control my 
orgasm. Then she'd turn me to lie on top of her, and pump me up and down 
with those strong arms of hers until I passed out from the sensation. We 
took turns in orgasming each other, until finally we were both nearing 
the end of our endurance; I was reaching the end of my physical 
strength, and she was almost completely sexually sated. 

Then, she lifted me up into a sitting position, and put her legs round 
my waist, her arms round my body. I prayed that she knew what she was 
doing, because there was no way I could escape her thighs. Her vagina 
gently pulled my penis into her body, and I got one of my hands on each 
of her nipples. In that position, we rocked back and forth, and I let 
one of my hands roam around her heavily muscled back, while the other 
one attacked her sensitive front. She bent my body double, until my head 
was next to her thighs. When your head is next to thighs like Carol's, 
there's only one possibility - lick. I licked for all I was worth, and 
she moved back and forth, gripping my penis all along its length with 
her powerful pussy. I wanted her to have a final, gigantic orgasm, but I 
was acutely conscious of the vulnerability of my position, and on how 
reliant I was on her self control. Carol doesn't have any self control. 

After a while, she started to moan softly, calling my name, and saying 
"No, Sammy, no, no". I thought, is this how date rape happens? She 
obviously meant "yes", and even if she meant "no", I couldn't possibly 
get out of her grip. Her cries got louder and louder, until she was 
screaming into my ear, her orgasm struck like a tornado, and I was blown 
away, sucked up into heaven, whirled until I was dizzy, and the lights 
went out for me. 

I came to, and Carol had her thighs still locked round my waist, her 
arms round my body, and she was looking into my eyes. I took a quick 
inventory as one does with Carol - what's broken, what's sprained, 
what's bruised. I'd got off lightly. 

We lay there holding each other gently, and I told her what I'd been up 
to since I'd last seen her. She brought me up to date as well, and 
explained who all those people were. It wasn't some sort of party, as 
I'd thought. They were all her sex partners, and I stroked her hair and 
kissed her, and told her what an amazing woman she was. Carol doesn't 
actually have sex partners, she has people she owns for her sexual 
gratification. Then I pulled back a bit and looked at her, really 
looked. "You've gotten bigger, haven't you?" She smiled with pleasure, 
and said that it was mostly her arms and legs. I looked at her thighs, 
and they had to be a yard around at least. Thirty-five inches, actually, 
she said. I stroked them gently. I told her that they were the biggest, 
strongest legs in the world. She suggested that I get down properly and 
lick them, but I licked one of her nipples instead, and she was happy. I 
asked about her arms - they'd been about 19 inches of steel covered with 
silk last time I looked. She flexed them for me, and I could see she'd 
put on mass there, to. "21 inches of hardness", she boasted. I looked at 
my own 12 inchers, and wondered how I got into these situations. 

She stood up, and pulled the red silk night-dress back on, and pulled 
the negligee around her. Then she just stood there, legs apart and 
straight, and with her arms behind her head. She was showing off, of 
course. She was showing me just how big and hard her biceps were, how 
firm and full her breasts were, and how huge and powerful her legs were. 
I stood up, walked over to her, took her in my arms, and kissed her. 
"Kneel down and worship my thighs", she commanded. 

I've been here before. I've seen her do this so many times, I don't 
think she's even aware of what she's doing. Faced with a goddess like 
Carol, it's almost impossible to not do what she demands. But once you 
start humbling yourself to her, once you start licking her big hard 
muscles, you're on a slippery slope that leads to the total alteration 
of your personality. I have to say I was tempted. I thought of giving in 
to her strength, of letting her overwhelm me with her powerful body, of 
giving the rest of my life to her service. It was tempting, so tempting. 
She'd take care of me, she'd make sure I was protected, she'd love me as 
much as I loved her. Wouldn't she? 

No, she wouldn't. I've seen what happens to men who yield themselves to 
her. She soon begins to despise them, to use them for whatever she 
needs. She doesn't love them, and far from protecting them, she becomes 
a major source of pain. But her dominance is established by then, so men 
learn to enjoy the pain she gives them, and their personalities twist 
and distort under the moulding pressure of Carol's hard powerful body, 
until all they want is to be her slave. Then she pretty much loses 
interest in them, and looks elsewhere for sexual satisfaction, so the 
man has to watch helpless while she subjugates her next victim. And 
eventually, the man is so useless, so unable to take care of himself, 
such a complete and utter wimp, that she loses interest in him and 
throws him out. At that point, he is unable to function as a normal 
member of society, is unable to hold down a job, is unable to have a 
normal relationship with a woman. In other words, he is clinically 
insane. 

I've seen her do that before, and I could see the signs among some of 
the people in her household. One of the men was wearing a woman's night-
dress, and another one was looking like Carol had complete control of 
his emotions. She doesn't do it on purpose, it's an inevitable 
consequence of living with a woman whose physical strength is several 
times greater than yours, whose sexual needs are several times more than 
any man can handle, whose body is so devastating that I've seen major 
car accidents caused by her walking down the street. But her most 
destructive aspect is her powerful personality. She's used to getting 
her own way, and you don't refuse her anything, at least not a second 
time. 

So, in spite of the tremendous temptation, I didn't kneel down at her 
feet and worship her body. I kissed her again, on her soft lips. And 
then I did something incredibly difficult. I got dressed, told her 
goodbye for now, and left. 

Copyright (c) 1995, 1996 Rabbit Productions

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