Diana's Domination
By Diana the Valkyrie
A love story, from his point of view. Very sad


This is the fifth in the series of stories by Diana. I'd just 
like to emphasise that, although I am rather stronger than average, what 
follows is entirely a fantasy of mine. I made it up. It didn't actually 
happen. Although it would be nice if it did. I still haven't actually 
spoken to the guy on the underground. Maybe he'll read this and remember 
the girl who pretends not to look at him. She's blonde, and she wears a 
tortoiseshell comb in her hair, and she's a bit wide in the shoulders, 
but quite pretty. And if you speak to her nicely, she'll be ever so nice 
to you. 

If sex and violence isn't you, then don't read it. Actually, there 
doesn't seem to be much violence in this one, not against people, 
anyway. Lots of sex, though, so if you're a minor definitely don't read 
it. 

It's a love story, and it has an unhappy ending. Sorry, but lots of love 
stories are like that. 


(C) Diana the Valkyrie, 1996. Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com

It was just another deal, another negotiation. Our client buying, their 
client selling. Both sides trying to get the best price, the best terms. 
We fielded our usual team of four; lawyer, accountant, commercial and 
techie, and I was the accountant. 

They fielded just two people, a right Hooray Henry called Nigel with a 
braying voice and not a lot upstairs, and he brought his secretary, 
well, I assumed she was his secretary. She was young and pretty, and 
wore the standard uniform of white blouse and smart suit, female 
version, with a tortoiseshell comb in her hair as the only concession to 
femininity. It's a shame the way they make women in business dress. 

We were walking all over Nigel - yes, he really did call himself Nigel, 
with a straight face. Nigel really hadn't a clue, and we kept telling 
him what a sharp negotiator he was, and how he was stealing us blind, 
and it started to look like we'd get a really good bonus on this one. 

Then she coughed slightly, and Nigel looked over at her, and I saw a 
slight frown on her face, and he shut up immediately, and I wondered if 
she actually was a secretary. Silence followed for a few seconds, and 
she said "Er...". This was the first time she'd spoken, so we all looked 
at her. She smiled and leaned back in her chair, which made her jacket 
fall open slightly. 

The silence continued as four normal, healthy men looked at the fully-
developed body of an attractive girl. Then she let her arms fall to her 
sides, her jacket gaped wide, and we all got a good look. It was as if 
the room had suddenly filled with sex. I'm sure that no-one present had 
the slightest thought for the deal now, just animal lust. I'll try to 
describe what I saw. 

Her hair was done up in a tight bun, her face was pretty enough, but 
nothing special. But now, with her jacket open, we could see that the 
width of her shoulders owed nothing to padding, and she had 
extraordinarily broad shoulders, wide and somehow powerful-looking. 

But then the eye was drawn down six inches or so, pulled by the force of 
the stress lines in her silk blouse, to the firm, high peaks of her 
breasts. Don't get me wrong, they weren't huge, not over-sized. But 
somehow, you knew that they would be sufficient for any task, including 
the job they were fulfilling right now, of hypnotising every man 
present. 

I saw a small smile on her mouth, and I'm sure I was the only one 
looking at her face. She knew exactly the effect she was having, and I 
guessed she was doing it on purpose, and had done this before. And 
suddenly, I realised that everything that had gone before was polite 
preliminaries, that the real fight was about to start, and that we were 
outnumbered, her two against us four. 

She leaned forward now. Her jacket didn't fall closed, as you might have 
expected, it was kept apart by the gentle pressure from those very 
adequate and prominent breasts. And now I realised, she wasn't wearing a 
bra underneath. Those sharp peaks I could see were her nipples. The 
sexual tension became greater as we all realised that the hardness of 
those firm nipples meant that she was sexually aroused too, and for the 
first time, I noticed her perfume, musky and sweet. There was no-one in 
the room but her and me, and I guess the other guys there felt the same. 
And my erection was strong, and hard, and for her, only for her. 

Then she spoke. What does a sex goddess sound like? Low and thrilling, 
soft and gentle, her voice matched her deep sexuality. At first, I just 
listened to the music. But then the meaning penetrated my accountant's 
brain. 

Did I mention I was the accountant? Probably not, it's not something one 
boasts about. At parties, I tell people I work with money, which sound a 
lot sexier. 

"Hello. I'm Diana. Here's the deal", she said. "Are you 
listening?" We all nodded. Then she said something obscene and 
disgusting. 

She explained the commission system they were incentivised by; it was 
essentially the same as ours, only more generous. A lot more generous. 
We would be getting ten grand for every million we saved our client; 
they would be getting a hundred, 10%, an unheard of commission. "And I'm 
willing to share it with you, half each, if we can agree a good price." 

At first, it seemed brilliant, inspired. She wasn't just a sex goddess, 
she was a financial wizard, too. So we sat there being offered the two 
most important things to human beings, sex and money, and the choice was 
clear. We would accept. Everyone started looking at each other and 
nodding, the way people do when they're arriving at a consensus, and 
then she smiled, and licked her lips. 

For me, that broke the spell she'd woven around us, the spell using the 
ancient ingredients of lust and greed. For a moment there, I didn't see 
a sexy girl, I saw a cat, a great tawny predator, enjoying the sight of 
the mice she'd caught with her sharp claws. And I was shocked and 
scared, my brain snapped out of the haze of sexual enchantment, and I 
realised what she'd done. It was wicked, it was evil, and I had to stop 
it. "Meeting", I called. 

This is the signal we use when we need to discuss something between 
ourselves, away from the other side. If anyone calls "Meeting", the 
others have to comply. The other guys looked at me irritatedly, they  
couldn't see the need for a meeting, it was obviously a great deal. But 
I had to get them away from those compelling breasts, and I had to get 
them to see the dishonesty of what she was proposing. "We'll go, you 
stay" she offered, and stood to leave. We all looked at her legs as she 
walked out, they were long and very interestingly shaped, with large 
calves. She wore a long skirt, so you had to use your imagination  to 
think what her thighs might be like, and my imagination said wow. And 
they went all the way down to the ground, and all the way up to her 
armpits. 

Even when she'd gone, her perfume reminded you of her presence, sultry 
and flowery.  I felt like moaning, and the other three guys weren't 
exactly concentrating on the matter at hand. I got their attention by 
rapping on the table. "We can't go along with this, fellows, it's 
unethical. It's like taking a bribe to screw our client." And then the 
argument began. 

As soon as it started, I knew I'd lost. They weren't arguing about 
whether, it was all about how much. Our client had given us price 
boundaries, but told us to get the best price possible. They were 
working out what price would be within an acceptable range, and would 
give us the biggest commission, given that Diana was giving us 
half her more generous fees. 

I argued client interest, they talked about fee income. I talked about 
ethics, and Robert said "And did you see tits like those before?" 
Everyone shook their heads, no. I talked about morality, and Simon said 
"They just seem so, well, so adequate, so complete, everything you'd 
want." Everyone nodded. "So we'll tell her yes." said Jeremy. Everyone 
nodded, except me. 

She'd seduced them with sex and money, but I could see through her 
wiles. She was an evil woman, a wicked witch, and her magic had worked. 
I couldn't argue any more. Jeremy called Diana and Nigel back in, 
and they sat down. She'd hidden those glorious breasts behind her jacket 
now, but we all knew what was there; as far as I was concerned, the 
sight was burned into my brain. 

But I had to be strong, I had to suppress my animal instincts, I had to 
stop this evil thing before it could destroy our company, because 
corruption, once it starts, is terribly hard to stop. I had to resist 
the lure of sex and the temptation of money. I had to say "No", because 
the others wouldn't. "No", I said, and everyone looked at me. Simon and 
Jeremy started to argue with me, and I argued back. 

I noticed she was digging through her handbag for something, and then 
she found it. Suddenly, she said "Quiet", and her voice was gentle, not 
loud, but very commanding. We all turned to look at her. At first, I 
couldn't work out what she had there, but it soon became clear. Six inch 
nails, the sort that you use to mend fences. She put most of them on the 
table, but held one in her hands. What followed, blew my mind. Her hands 
bent that six inch nail, until it was almost double. 

We all sat there, stunned. How could a woman do such a thing? Hellfire, 
how could a man do it? Jeremy tried to bend one of the other nails, but 
after he'd tried his best, and failed to even dent it, she held her hand 
out for it, and when he gave it to her, she seemed to just gently caress 
it with her fingers, and it was bent double. She didn't seem to be 
trying very hard, she didn't grunt, or perspire, yet the thick iron nail 
just folded up in her hands. 

I tried one of the nails myself, and I couldn't make the slightest 
impression on it. One after another she  took each nail in her hands and 
bent it double. I tried to imagine the force you'd have to exert to bend 
an iron nail, and I couldn't, it was just too far outside my experience. 
Then she put down the last bent nail on the table, and smiled round at 
everyone there. I saw the stunned look on people's faces, except Nigel, 
who had obviously seen this before. 

Then she pushed the contract out to the middle of the table, and pulled 
a big, fat fountain pen from her bag, and said, "OK, let's sign" 

We sat there, paralysed. I know how I felt, I felt sexually aroused, and 
at the same time physically helpless. Her hands were strong enough to 
make my knees feel weak; her body made my penis feel strong, but I'd be 
helpless in her hands. I tried to imagine how a girl could be so strong 
and yet so sexy, and then I realised that the two were linked. Sex and 
violence in one totally female body; sex and money in one totally female 
mind. 

At that moment, I knew that I would be incapable of stopping her from 
doing anything she pleased. And at that moment, she started stroking the 
big fountain pen, and every man present watched, fascinated as those 
strong hands manipulated the fat plastic torpedo, and I'm sure she had 
fully intended to plant the thought that struck each and every one of 
us. 

What would it feel like to have those hands wrapped round your cock, the 
hands that could bend an iron nail like you or I could bend a banana? 
The hands of a sweet, sexy woman, the hands that must have a grip like a 
steel vice. Would it feel unbearably good, or excruciatingly painful? 
And we all knew the answer; it would feel however she wanted it to feel. 
If she felt like giving pleasure, it would be an experience to treasure 
for ever, if she felt like giving pain, it would be the most agonising 
experience you would ever suffer. Whatever she fancied, whatever she 
felt like, whatever she wanted to do. 

With that simple act, she dominated us all, totally. Five big men, and 
one pretty blonde, and she'd taken our minds and turned them to mush 
with her feminine weapons, her brain, her splendid body, and those 
terrible, powerful hands. My wish was to please her, nothing more. Sex 
and money, pleasure and pain, Diana was everything any man could 
want, and far more than any man could handle. 

We signed the contract, beyond caring what it said. Then we broke for 
lunch, and they opened the champagne, to celebrate another successful 
deal. 

I just sat there, my head in my hands, trying to understand the enormity 
of the crime we'd just committed. We had put our own interests in front 
of the client, and although the agreed price was within his range, it 
probably wasn't as good as it would have been if we hadn't been seduced, 
yes, seduced, there was no other word, by that woman. It was corruption, 
simply corruption. We'd been offered a bribe, and accepted it. And she'd 
used her sexy body, and those terrible hands, to stop us from even 
considering a refusal. 

I tried to work out where my duty lay now. Was my responsibility to the 
company that paid me, or was it to the client that we'd screwed? If the 
latter, then I should tell him what had happened, and it would do him no 
good, and probably cost me my job. If I didn't do that, I was no better 
than they were, conniving in the fleecing of our client. What a choice! 

I sat there, misery eating at my soul, contemplating the two awful 
alternatives, when a soft warm voice spoke to me. "You have a problem, 
don't you?" I looked up, and it was her, the cause of all my pain. I 
thought of telling her exactly what I thought of her, and then I thought 
of those strong hands, bending those thick iron nails, and I simply 
didn't have the courage to stand up to her. So I said nothing, I tried 
to ignore her. 

"You feel like I raped you, don't you" she said. I turned to her, and 
said "Yes, you've got it, that's exactly how I feel, Diana." "Call 
me Diana. I'd like a chance to explain to you. Because you had the 
strength to stand up to me  ..." "Not for very long", I interrupted. 
"You never stood a chance, you can see that, can't you?" she said. I 
nodded, miserably. She put her hand on my arm. She was being very 
gentle, I could barely feel the weight, but my brain was acutely 
conscious of the unstated power in her hands. "Jimmy, I'll call for you 
at eight this evening, and I'll take you out to dinner, because I want 
to explain myself to you, and I have an offer you might want to hear." 
She was doing it again; how could any man refuse her an offer like that? 

She turned up at the promised time; when the bell rang, I opened the 
door and a lovely girl stood waiting there. The silk blouse had gone, 
but the angora sweater that replaced it did nothing to hide her 
aggressive breasts, and it made her shoulders look as broad as the 
doorway. I grabbed my hat and followed her downstairs to her car. 

They say that your car makes  statement about your personality. Diana's 
car was sexy, elegant and very powerful. It was one of the most 
impressive cars I've ever seen, it was a Jaguar XK8. It was a sleek two-
seater, lovely to look at, and the engine made a low throaty rumble as 
she started it. The powerful acceleration threw me back into the 
passenger seat as the engine roared us into the highway. "I  know this 
great country pub", she said. "We'll go there." Once again, she'd simply 
taken control without even trying, and I was just tagging along, doing 
what she said. 

Her capable hands manipulated the manual gears and steering wheel with 
deft confidence, so that although she was driving much faster than I'd 
have dared, I had the sensation that she was in full control the whole 
time. "Like the car?" she asked. I nodded; it was the sort of car that 
every teenager dreams of; utterly sexy, totally impractical except for a 
single adult, and way beyond the reach of someone on my sort of salary. 
"I love the way it handles" she said, as her strong fingers stroked the 
gear stick in a way that made my imagination send messages to my 
genitals. "I feel so in control of it", she said, as I began to wonder 
if I could keep control of myself. Wetting my trousers would not look 
good. Seeing the hand that could bend an iron nail like a sausage gently 
gripping the gear stick was bad enough, but then she started to rub her 
thumb over the knob on the top. I couldn't stifle a low moan; she heard 
it, looked across at my face, then down. Then she laughed. "Oh dear, 
Jimmy, I'm being a bit of a tease, aren't I?" 

We arrived at the pub, and she stopped the car with a flourish, gravel 
flying as the car spun into a parking slot. She was out before I'd even 
got my seat belt off. "Does my driving scare you? I know it does some 
people." No, actually, one of the very few things about Diana that 
didn't scare me was her driving. Her hands scared me, her shoulders 
scared me and her breasts were so full and firm and so right on her, 
they'd scare anyone. But I simply couldn't imagine her having an 
accident, and I felt that as long as I was with her, I was safe from 
anything; safe from anything except Diana, of course. 

In the pub I ordered a whiskey; I felt I needed some Dutch courage. She 
wrinkled her nose at that, and told the barman to bring orange juice 
instead, in a jug, with two glasses. Then they brought the menu, and we 
ordered. 

As we ate, we talked. She asked me what I was so upset about, and I told 
her that I considered today's activities to be grossly unethical towards 
our client. "But you went along with it", she pointed out. "I know, and 
I'm ashamed of myself, but Diana, you know perfectly well why I couldn't 
argue. Three of them, one of me, and meanwhile you're cutting the ground 
out from under me with those strong hands of yours." She looked down at 
her hands, flexed and wiggled her fingers, and smiled. "Did I intimidate 
you?" "Yes, you did, as you well know." "So what are you going to do 
now?"  I looked down at the table. "The right thing to do, is to go tell 
the client we've just screwed him. And then I get fired." 

She regarded me with her large eyes. "Or you could just keep quiet." I 
nodded, it was a tempting possibility. I gazed at her hands, they were 
square in shape, the fingers long and strong-looking. I noticed that her 
fingernails were unpainted, unbitten, and very nice. They were lying 
quietly on the table, calm and capable, and it was difficult to link 
them to the hands that could bend six inch iron nails. "But I can't just 
keep my mouth shut, it wouldn't be right. It just wouldn't be right." 
She nodded. "You agree?" I asked, surprised. "Yes, of course it wouldn't 
be right." "But it was you that made this happen, you think it's all 
wrong too?" "Yes, of course I do!" "But you did it anyway?" 

Diana laughed. She has a lovely laugh, she puts her whole body into it. 
Her hair shimmers, her shoulders shake and her breasts jiggle, she's a 
symphony in motion. "Wrong for you, right for me! My client got a great 
deal, yours got screwed. But that's your problem, not mine. My job was 
to get the best possible deal for my client, which I did. I've got 
nothing to be ashamed of." And she was right, of course. That made me 
feel a bit better, somehow, at least I could respect what had been done 
to me. "So, Jimmy, what are you doing to do?" "I'm going to tell the 
client, then start looking for a new job." She nodded and smiled. "I 
think you're right. You've got to do what you think is right, even if it 
costs you. It's the best thing in the end. You've made the right 
decision." 

She moved her hand toward the middle of the table. I looked at it, it 
looked feminine yet competent, gentle but terribly strong. I reached out 
towards her, and put my hand on hers. She looked up at me and smiled. "I 
like a man who has strong ethics." She brought her other hand forward 
and covered mine; I felt her palm on the back of my hand, and I was 
surprised at how hard it was. Then I thought about it, and it wasn't so 
surprising. I looked straight back into her eyes, and said "I like a 
woman who has strong hands." She laughed again, and gave me a gentle 
squeeze, and then the soup arrived. 

We talked through dinner, mostly about work. I know, I know, you expect 
an accountant to be boring, but she was actually interested in what she 
did, and we worked in the same area, so we had a lot in common. I told 
her about a deal I'd done a while back where I'd invented a new 
financial instrument on the spot to make it work. Diana told me about 
the first deal she'd ever done ("Diana Pulls it Off"), where she'd 
learned that she could dominate a room full of men with nothing more 
than her strong hands. "It isn't just your hands, Diana!" She leaned 
back in her chair and put her hands behind her head, and said "I know. 
But they're not that big, I just use them to get attention, and distract 
a bit." "They certainly do that," I said, distractedly. "And they're 
plenty big enough." She looked down at the right one, then the left. She 
was driving me crazy. "Actually they're a bit bigger than they look, my 
shoulders are too wide, and so they don't look so big." "They look big 
enough to me, Diana. And your shoulders aren't too wide; women wear 
shoulder pads to get shoulders like yours." She smiled again. 

After dinner, she suggested we take coffee upstairs. The waiter followed 
us with a tray as we climbed the stairs. She opened the door, and I was 
astonished to find we were in a bedroom suite. The waiter left the tray 
on a coffee table, and Diana sat down, and started pouring a cup. "Milk? 
Sugar?" she said. I thought fast. "Uh" I said. She looked up at me and 
smiled. "Do you want milk? Sugar?" My brain was still in a whirl. "Milk. 
No sugar." And I sat down. Did this mean what I thought? Was I about to 
get lucky? And then I had another thought - what happens if you get 
lucky with a girl who can bend iron nails in her hands, is it actually 
good luck? Or could one get badly hurt? 

I sat down on the settee, and she brought my coffee over to me, and 
hers, and sat next to me. She put the cups of coffee on the table, and 
turned to me. "Well, isn't this lovely?" I nodded. "Show me your hands, 
Jimmy." I held out my hands, and she took them in her strong, hard grip. 
She pulled them towards her, and turned them over. "You have such soft 
hands, Jimmy." "Hey, that's my line" I said. She laughed, and said "But 
it's true, you do." "Well, what do you expect from an accountant? 
Calluses?" She shook her head and giggled. "But your hands are so hard, 
Diana. You must do more than use a keyboard." 

She dug in her handbag, pulled out one of the six inch nails, and gave 
it to me. I tried to bend it, I really did, but after I'd finished, it 
was as straight as a die. I handed it back to her, and she bent it 
double. I held out my hand for it and examined it; either she was the 
best magician I'd ever seen, or else she had the strongest hands in the 
world. I told her so, and she smiled, and asked for the nail back. When 
I gave it to her, she took it in her hands, and straightened it. That's 
got to be even harder than bending it. Then she bent it again, 
straightened it, bent it, and kept on until it snapped in two. "Do you 
still think I'm doing a conjuring trick?" She held out a hand. "Put your 
hand in mine if you think I'm doing a conjuring trick." 

I shook my head. If her hands could break an iron nail, I didn't want to 
find out what she could do to the bones in my hand. "It isn't a 
conjuring trick." she said, and she moved closer to me. "That's why my 
hands are so hard; I practise doing that all the time. It makes me feel 
so good to be able to do that, it gives me so much self-confidence. I 
always carry some around with me, and if I feel nervous or uncertain, I 
take one out and bend it till it breaks, and it makes me feel so good 
about myself." 

She put her hands on my shoulders, very gently, and I leaned my head to 
one side and kissed her hand. She smiled, and leaned forward. I could 
smell her perfume, strong and musky, and so, so sexy. I put my hands on 
the sides of her body, pulled her forward, and kissed her on the lips. 
She kissed me back, and she tasted of salt and sex. Her hands moved down 
to my waist, then up until they were under my arms. I remembered what 
she'd told me about what her fingers could do in that position, and I 
froze. Frankly, I was scared, scared of this pretty blonde with hands 
like steel. She felt my fear, and said "Jimmy, don't be scared, I'm not 
going to hurt you." I relaxed slightly, but not entirely, and she very 
gently dug her fingers into my armpits. It felt intensely erotic. I knew 
what she was capable of, and the contrast between what she could do, and 
what she was doing, was tremendous; I felt as if her strong fingers were 
controlling me totally, without even trying. And she held me like that 
as we kissed again. 

I pulled her angora sweater up, so I could get my hands on her skin, 
which was soft and smooth; her hands tunnelled under my shirt, and we 
kissed some more. Lots more. She was lovely; sweet and delicious, salty 
and wriggly under my hands. She obviously liked what I was doing, and I 
certainly liked the feel of her hands on my body. After a long, long 
time, we pulled apart, gasping for breath. "The coffee is getting cold" 
she said, so we sat and sipped, looking at each other. "You're still not 
sure, are you?" she said. "What do you mean?" "You still think it might 
be a conjuring trick." I had to admit it, I had to think it was more 
likely she was prestidigitating than actually bending and breaking a six 
inch nail. She was so sweet, so feminine, so, so, womanly. Her breasts 
were full and inviting, her hair long and soft. "Well ..." I said. 

"Look, it's very simple. Just put your hand in mine, and as soon as I 
hurt you, say so. Don't get all macho and silly about this, OK?" "No, I 
won't be silly." I did as she said, and she held my hand in hers, very 
gently. Then she tightened her grip, slowly, very slowly. I tried to 
grip back, but she didn't seem to notice, and her hand tightened around 
mine. Her advice about not being macho went straight out of my mind, and 
I tried to brace myself against the pressure, which just kept on 
mounting. I couldn't just yield to her immediately, I had to show that I 
wasn't just a wimp. So I tried to tighten the muscles of my hand, but 
her grip just kept on getting harder and harder, until it felt like I 
was being crushed by a vice. And then I realised I was being very silly 
here, she'd just keep increasing the pressure until I gave up, and the 
sooner I gave up, the less I'd be injured. So I said "Enough, enough" 
and she let go immediately. 

The shock of her letting go made me gasp, and as she released my hand, 
the pain flooded in, and I couldn't suppress a small cry of pain. She 
looked at me, concerned. "Oh, Jimmy, I've hurt you, haven't I?" I was 
past being brave. "Yes, I should have given up to you long ago." "Oh, 
Jimmy, you're just like a man, always trying to prove you're better than 
a woman. How badly have I hurt you?" and she took my injured hand in 
both of hers and kissed it. I tried flexing my hand, and it felt like 
she'd sprained it or something. I winced with the pain, and she said 
"Let me kiss it better." But she didn't kiss my hand, she put her arms 
round me and kissed me properly, and I kissed her back, and do you know, 
I clean forgot the pain in my hand. Several minutes later, she broke 
away, and said "Whoof! How's your hand?" I wiggled my fingers, and 
winced again. "Oh, Jimmy, you are a silly boy." She pulled her handbag 
towards her, and rummaged in it, pulling out a bandage. "A bandage?" 
"For you, Jimmy. I always carry an elastic bandage, I see a lot of 
sprained hands." I bet you do, I thought, as she bandaged me up, and 
pinned it with a small safety pin. Then she looked up into my eyes, and 
said "Conjuring trick?" I laughed, and said "No. Do you often need to 
convince people? And would you have actually broken my hand if I'd held 
out for much longer?" "I don't usually need to show them any more than a 
bent nail. And no, I wouldn't have broken your hand, I can feel when the 
bones are beginning to give way, and I'd have stopped then, even if you 
hadn't asked me to. You were quite a long way from that point, Jimmy." 

Golly, what a girl. And she obviously felt so comfortable about herself, 
about those terrible, wonderful hands. So naturally, I kissed her again. 
Her hands roamed over my body, making me feel extremely aroused, but at 
the same time very helpless, knowing what her hands could do. But I ran 
my hands over her body too, and she squirmed with delight under me. I 
knew she was squirming with delight and not trying to resist me, because 
I couldn't imagine her trying to resist me and not being able to. After 
several minutes, she said, "Hang on, I'll get ready," and she stood up 
and disappeared into the bathroom. Meanwhile, I tried to compose myself 
a bit, and poured another cup of coffee for myself. 

I didn't have long. She came out of the bathroom, and I heard a small 
cough from behind me. I turned round, and saw the most wonderful sight 
of my life. I'll try to describe her. 

She was wearing a satin night-gown, white, with lace edging. It clung to 
her body, and there was a lot to cling to. Her shoulders and arms were 
naked, and if you expected big muscles, you'd be wrong. Her shoulders 
were wide, very broad, and her arms weren't thin, but there were no big 
bulges in sight. Well, there were, actually, two of them, but they were 
where every woman has bulges, perhaps a bit bigger than you'd expect, 
but not excessively so. The night-gown fell to her thighs, but not very 
far down. I'd seen her calves before, and they'd looked large before, 
but now they looked very big, and well defined. And before, I'd had to 
use my imagination to think of her thighs, but now I could see that my 
imagination had been inadequate. They were broad, thick, and hard-
looking. You expect a woman to have big thighs, but not as big as this, 
big and strong looking. And I could swear her thighs were at least as 
big as her waist. 

She looked gorgeous, simply stunning. And standing with her hands behind 
her back, her breasts thrust forward, totally inviting. She'd taken off 
her shoes, so she looked much smaller now, smaller, softer, feminine and 
vulnerable. "Oh, Diana" I breathed. She smiled. I stood up, with 
difficulty, there was something large and hard impeding my movements. 
Then she moved her hands into view, holding them loosely by her sides, 
her fingers moving slightly, reminding me of their power, their 
strength, their capability. She didn't look so vulnerable now, her hands 
made me feel vulnerable instead. Her smile got wider, sexier, and she 
swished her hair round to the side. Then she held her hands out to me, 
and beckoned with her fingers. I moved towards her, and took one hand in 
mine and kissed it. I felt as if I had to surrender to those powerful 
hands, to submit to her strength. She pushed me backwards until the 
backs of my knees hit the bed, then a gentle push toppled me backwards 
onto it. As I fell, I tried to pull her down on top of me, but she 
twisted her body so she was next to me, then she rolled us until I was 
on top of her, and we kissed and caressed for a long time. 

Then I broached a subject that had been worrying me for a while now. 
"Diana, I'm just a little scared of what your hands might do to me when 
we make love." She slid them up under my arms, and squeezed me there, 
gently, not hurting, but teasing me. "I don't want to hurt you, Jimmy." 
"Yes, but what if in the heat of the moment ..." "What?" "Well, you 
know, when we, if we, I mean. Well, what's happened before?" "Before, 
Jimmy? What do you mean before?" "I mean, with other guys?" "What makes 
you think there's been other guys?" She was a virgin? No, she was 
winding me up again. "Diana, you're such a wind-up artist." She laughed. 
"Jimmy, you've got no idea at all what it's like to have sex with a 
strong woman. I promise you, it's like nothing else you've ever 
experienced, and it hardly hurts at all. And afterwards, I can assure 
you, you'll be feeling no pain, no pain at all." "What do you mean, 
Diana?" I stroked her forearm, and kissed the powerful hand at the end. 

"Jimmy, I've done this before, don't worry. I'll use my strength to 
control your body, so that I can give you more pleasure than you can 
imagine. And more often than you would have thought possible. You just 
relax and don't try to resist me, because you can't anyway. This is 
going to be like nothing you've ever experienced, I'm like no other girl 
you've ever met, and I can do things to you that you wouldn't believe 
possible." She pulled my trousers off as she spoke, and I certainly 
didn't feel like putting up any resistance. "Don't try to fuck me like a 
normal woman, let me take the lead. I will anyway, so you'll feel better 
about it if you don't try to fight me over it. I won't hurt you, well, 
not much, and not permanently. By tomorrow, you'll just feel a bit achy 
and stiff from all the exercise. We're going to use muscles you didn't 
know you had, and put you in positions you didn't know you could adopt. 
Your body is a lot more flexible than you think, and I'll twist and bend 
you in ways you didn't know you could do. And we'll have more, and 
better, sex than you would have thought possible." 

We started off with me on top and her underneath. But even so, she was 
in complete control the whole time, and it was a long time. She wouldn't 
let me get to orgasm, she kept holding me off, holding me still, making 
me slow down and calm down. But eventually, she was ready too, and she 
let me come inside her, which triggered her own explosive climax, and I 
felt her vagina clenching round my penis like a deranged milking 
machine, bringing me to higher and higher sexual pitch, until my final 
orgasm left me almost unconscious. 

Of course, I just wanted to go to sleep after that, but Diana wasn't 
finished with me. I felt those hard hands running over my body, and she 
whispered to me "Jimmy, you know what I'd like now?" "Yes Diana?" 
"Jimmy, it would be really nice if you licked my breasts." So of course, 
I did, and I also ran my hands over her belly, which was firm and taut. 
And her hands crept gently round my genitals, and before very long, I 
could feel her arousal, and I began to get semi-hard myself. That was 
all she wanted; she pulled me on top of her, and something drew me 
softly into her vagina again. This time, the fucking was less frenzied; 
I was shagged out from the last time. It was quite a long time before 
her orgasm came along, and by the time I happened, I was more than ready 
to quit. But her contractions made me come again, and I felt good, very 
good. I rolled off her, turned over, and tried to go to sleep. But Diana 
wasn't ready to sleep yet. 

She rolled me over onto my back, and got on top of me, kneeling above 
me, her legs on either side of me. "Jimmy, do my breasts again?" This 
time I used my hands; they felt firm, and solid, and I could see how she 
could get away with not wearing a bra. I moved my hands around her 
nipples, and under her arms where she was just as vulnerable as I was. 
She put her hands up behind her head, and squealed with pleasure as I 
tickled her armpits. She looked so lovely, so gorgeous, so sexy. I began 
to wake up and enjoy touching her, and I felt her nipples stiffen in 
response to my touch. Then she dived down to the bed, and pulled me over 
on top of her. My cock was almost flaccid; hell, I'd been put through 
the wringer twice already. But she didn't seem to care, and she took it 
in her strong, hard hands. At first, I was very worried about what those 
hands might be capable of, but she was so soft, so gentle, so careful. 
Her fingers manipulated my penis, and it felt so good, and after several 
minutes, I once more found myself being pulled into her. I began to 
understand what she meant about sex with a strong woman. 

It felt like it took her a long time, but she brought me to orgasm for 
the third time. And she came simultaneously with me again, her powerful 
internal muscles milking me like her strong hands would have. And this 
time, I really was finished, consummated, and completely done for. I 
felt like I wouldn't want sex for the next four weeks. My entire body 
relaxed after I came, and I fell asleep on my back. 

She woke me up with a kiss. Her thigh was between my legs, and she 
rubbed her naked body up and down mine. I groaned, "Please Diana". 
"Mmmh, just relax, Jimmy, don't fight me." Fighting her was the last 
thing I felt capable of, I didn't think I could fight off a determined 
kitten, let alone a woman who can break iron nails with her hands. 
"Touch me, Jimmy?" I dragged my eyes open. She looked just as lovely, 
just as sexy, it was just that I was completely knackered. "Diana, I'm 
not sure I'm up to any more." "You mean you're totally exhausted, 
right?" I nodded. "Yes, Diana, you're quite a girl, you know, I don't 
think I can handle this." She chuckled. "I count three so far, Jimmy. 
That's nothing. There's lots more, lots and lots and lots." I closed my 
eyes. "Touch me, Jimmy?"  I reached out and felt the front of her body, 
her breasts, her belly and her chest. I stroked her, gently, carefully, 
trying not to arouse her sexually. She hummed, quietly, and put her 
hands behind her head. I tickled her under her arms, and she opened her 
eyes and looked at me. "You're rather nice, Jimmy, you know that? Don't 
stop." 

So I moved my hands over her lovely body, knowing what it would mean, 
and rather dreading what was to come. And sure enough, she purred like a 
cat, and pulled me on top of her again, and one of those vice-like hands 
gently squeezed and stroked my genitals while her other hand roamed over 
my vulnerable body, and the thought of her strength made me moan, 
although the sex we'd had before left me totally limp. But she opened 
her legs again, and I found myself being drawn inside, and squeezed and 
milked. And this time, she came without me; I didn't have enough inside 
me to have another orgasm. 

Afterwards, she kissed and cuddled me, and told me not to worry about 
it, and I nestled into her breasts, and closed my eyes in total fatigue. 
I fell asleep while she was telling me how wonderful I was, my head on 
her lovely soft breasts. And then she woke me up again; I felt her hands 
on my balls, on my thighs, on my belly. I found myself facing upwards on 
top of her, my legs pulled back, arching my back until it was stretched 
tight. I was slightly uncomfortable in this position, and I said "Diana 
..." "Shush", she said, "I know what I'm doing." Her legs gripped mine 
as I lay exhausted on top of her, and her two strong hands gripped my 
penis. She wrapped her satin night-gown around my cock and slid it up 
and down, while tickling my balls. The feeling was beyond words, and she 
had me hard in a very short time. Then she twisted me round, and my cock 
slid into the familiar place, inside her vagina. I was too weary to do 
anything about it, but she lifted me up and down, sliding my prick in 
and out in the usual way. She kept me going for what seemed like a very 
long time, until eventually she squeezed another orgasm out of me, a 
small one, but definitely an orgasm. "And that's five", she remarked, 
like she was keeping count. I wondered how far she expected to count up 
to, so I asked her. "My personal best is eighteen", she said, then she 
casually added "I'd like to get to twenty-one some day." 

I was actually scared. We'd had sex five times, and I reckoned another 
five would kill me, let alone eighteen. She must have seen the fear in 
my face, because she laughed, and said "Don't worry, Jimmy, I'm not 
going for eighteen tonight. If I were, I'd have been a lot more 
economical with your strength. I wouldn't have let you do all the work 
the first few times, I'd have done it all myself. And I've have been a 
lot more gentle with you, given you long slow orgasms instead of strong 
hard ones. And I'd wouldn't have milked you so much with my vagina. No, 
don't worry, Jimmy. I won't hurt you." 

I think that was the exact moment that I fell in love with her. Up till 
then, I'd thought she was the most wonderful girl I'd ever met, sure, 
but love is more than that. She was pretty, no, beautiful. Her body was 
magnificent, there was no other word that would do. She had soft, silky 
hair, and knew how to tease with it. And most of all, those hands, those 
strong, hard hands, the hands that could break an iron nail, her hands 
as hard and strong as steel, yet so gentle, so kind, her touch so light 
and yet so erotic, the most erotic hands in the world. I could worship 
those hands, and I was in love with the girl lying next to me, 
reassuring me that she wouldn't hurt me. 

She put her hands under my armpits, and I remembered her story of how 
she dominated most of her sexual partners with the pain of her fingers 
digging into the soft parts of their bodies, and then she whispered 
again, "Jimmy, don't be scared of me, don't be frightened. Touch me 
again." Well, I didn't really have much choice, did I? Besides, I liked 
giving her pleasure, and if stroking her front was what she wanted, 
that's what I'd give her. 

She whimpered a little as I ran my hands over her breasts and nipples, 
down to her belly, up to her neck. Then she rolled over on her front and 
I stroked her back. When I got down to the small of her back, she 
whimpered some more, so I scratched it gently with my fingernails, and 
made her moan and whine, until suddenly she couldn't take any more, and 
she whirled round, and I found her on top of me, this time she was full 
length on top of me, and she was heavy, really heavy. I hadn't realised 
how heavy she was, she didn't look heavy, just solid. But her shoulders 
were broad, her chest was deep, and all that flesh had to weigh. Her 
body flattened me, and exhausted as I was, I had trouble breathing with 
all that woman on top of me. Her breasts rubbed against my chest, and I 
felt her hands reaching down to my groin. 

Those powerful hands, those hands that were stronger than any man's, 
that could break iron nails, were delicately touching and stroking my 
cock.  It was everything I'd imagined while we were looking at her in 
the meeting that morning, only more so. Shivers of delightful pleasure 
ran down my body, and I almost had another erection. Almost? Who was I 
kidding? I'd been put through the wringer, I was wrung out dry, as limp 
as an empty banana skin, with no banana inside. Her hand gripped my 
penis, and rubbed it against her vagina, which was wet and slurpy, and I 
felt myself being pulled inside again. 

I never thought the day would come when being fucked gave me so little 
pleasure. It was slightly nice, no more. But Diana was obviously getting 
a lot out of it, she was being very noisy. Moaning, groaning and saying 
things like "Oh, don't stop, don't stop." As if any of this was under my 
control. Eventually, she came, and let out a long "MMMmh" and rolled off 
me. Then she kissed me, and said "Six. Want to try for seven?" 

"No, Diana, I really can't, I've had enough, maybe tomorrow." And I 
meant it. I said no, and I meant it. So what happened next, was rape. I 
knew I couldn't fight her off, and I was too weary to even try. She 
started off by rubbing herself against me, her breasts against my chest. 
Then she turned round and rubbed her vagina against my mouth, I think 
it's called cunnilingus. I could feel the wetness there as she aroused 
herself on me, and then she turned round again. She was trying to be 
gentle, I'm sure she was, but she held my shoulders in her hands as she 
enveloped my sore, soft member with her soft wet pussy and started 
rubbing herself up and down me. And she wasn't so soft inside, not 
really. Her internal grip was hard as she clenched herself round me. Her 
hands held my biceps, but her grip was too hard, she was hurting me, and 
next morning I found some bad bruises there. She was making animal 
grunting noises as she worked herself on me. And eventually, after she'd 
hurt me more than a little, she came, with quite a lot of noise. 

I felt her heavy weight leave my body, and I could breathe more easily 
now. There was a throbbing pain between my legs, and my arms hurt. I 
just wanted to sleep, to pass out and leave all this behind me. I 
breathed deeply, her musky perfume was still there, but overlaid with 
something else, something stronger and sexier, Diana's own smell, the 
strong smell of a strong woman. Her smell surrounded me as I drifted off 
to sleep. 

She woke me again. "Wha?" I said, foggily. And I felt her weight on me 
again. "No, Diana, please no more." "Yes, darling, you know you want 
it." "Please no more Diana, I can't, I can't" "Don't worry, my love, 
I'll do it everything for both of us, you'll like it again." "Please, 
Diana, you're hurting me, you're too strong for me, too strong." She 
silenced me with a kiss, her tongue invading my mouth, her hands 
touching my bruised body. 

The first time she raped me, maybe she didn't realise I didn't want her. 
But this time she knew, she knew perfectly well, and she raped me 
anyway. And there wasn't a thing I could do to stop her. She held my 
shoulders in a grip like steel, she straddled my hips, kneeling above me 
on the bed, and she drew my bruised, abused penis into the place that 
wasn't so soft and so welcoming any more. I struggled, I tried to stop 
her, but she just held me more firmly in her hands, and the pain from 
her grip subdued me quickly. And then she moved up and down on top of 
me, and with each downstroke her backside hit my thighs, already tender 
from her earlier rape, each impact sending a wave of pain through my 
body. "Please, Diana, you're hurting me, please stop" I begged her. "No, 
Jimmy, you know you like it, touch my breasts now." I rolled my head 
from side to side, "No, no, please." Her hands left my shoulders and 
moved gently to under my arms. "Please, Jimmy, do what I want?" How 
could I refuse? I knew what she could do to my arms, I was already so 
weakened, I couldn't even struggle. So I raised my hands to her breasts 
and started stroking them. She threw her head back and sang "Aaaah". And 
as her orgasm swept over her for the eighth time, her fingers dug into 
the soft vulnerable place under my arms, and I knew the helpless agony 
that her other lovers had experienced. And I don't think she was even 
trying to hurt me, it was just that her fingers happened to be there 
when she climaxed. I screamed with the pain, she relaxed her terrible 
grip, and I started to cry, tears of pain and humiliation rolling down 
my face. 

She rolled off me, and kissed me. "Oh, Jimmy, I'm sorry, I've made you 
cry, I've hurt you, haven't I? I'm sorry, Jimmy, I shouldn't have done 
that. I'm sorry. I don't know when to stop, I'm sorry, darling, really." 
I just sobbed in response. "Oh, Jimmy, I didn't mean to hurt you, 
honestly, I just get so horny, I can't help it. Shush, don't cry my 
baby, my lovely little baby, please don't cry. You go to sleep now, I 
won't hurt you any more." She stroked my body, and I was afraid she'd 
get aroused again, and I couldn't help it, I whimpered slightly. She 
realised she was just scaring me with her attentions, so she stopped, 
and we both fell asleep. 

When I woke up next morning, my body was just a mass of aches and pains. 
My arms hurt the worst, and I could see awful blue-black bruises from my 
elbows to my shoulders. My bandaged hand hurt where she'd given me the 
demonstration of her hand gripping power. My back hurt from when she'd 
bent me across her body. My thighs were sore from the pounding she'd 
given me there, and when I curled over to look at them, I was shocked to 
see the purple-red colour of my cock, against the black, blue and green 
bruises on my thighs. There wasn't a part of me that didn't ache. 

I turned over and saw the pretty blonde sleeping peacefully by my side, 
the lovely girl that had done this to me, and without even meaning to 
hurt me. I loved her and I wanted to serve her, even though I knew she'd 
hurt me again, maybe because I knew that. She was smiling slightly in 
her sleep, and she looked like an angel. She'd put her white satin 
night-gown back on, and she looked like a soft, sweet virginal maiden, 
and the fact that she was hugging a big stuffed dog to herself made her 
look like she was barely out of childhood. But this lovely sweet blonde 
had sexually ravaged me last night, and I felt a stirring of fear that 
she might be the sort of person like me, who feels sexually aroused on 
waking up. Looking at her made me want to touch her, to stroke her 
nipples and breasts the way I knew she loved me to, but I didn't dare, I 
was afraid, scared to wake her up, scared of what her sexual arousal 
would bring. I looked at her face, her hair. I loved her, there was no 
doubt in my mind. And I'd let her destroy me if that was what she 
wanted. 

Her eyes flickered open, and she looked at me for a moment, then she 
smiled. "Good morning, Jimmy! How do you feel, I feel great!" She looked 
great, and I told her so. "Have you met Roger?" She introduced me to her 
dog. "Roger always sleeps with me." "He's a very lucky dog" I remarked. 
She grinned. "You look terrible, Jimmy, how'd you get those bruises?" I 
looked at her, she was winding me up again. She reached out towards me 
and stroked my arm. "I'm sorry, baby, honestly, I didn't mean to hurt 
you." She stroked me a bit more, gently, tentatively, and I said 
"Please, Diana, I'm in no state..." She stopped and sat up in bed, 
shaking her hair. "Here" and she threw Roger at me. I held him, he was 
soft, warm, cuddly and smelled of Diana. And he wouldn't hurt me. 

She bounced out of bed, and stripped off her night-gown, yawned and 
stretched. She looked lovely as she stood there against the window, the 
sun streaming past her naked body. She pulled on a T-shirt and jeans 
while I watched, then she turned and sat cross-legged on the bed next to 
me. 

"Jimmy, I didn't hurt you too badly, you'll be all right in a few days. 
It's just a few bruises and a couple of strains." I looked down at her 
hands, the source of those bruises and strains, my aches and pains. She 
pulled the bed clothes off me and saw my thighs and penis. "Oh. That 
doesn't look so good, does it? Oh Jimmy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have 
done the last one." The last two or three, I thought. "Can you forgive 
me?" "Diana, you're the most wonderful girl I've ever met, I'll forgive 
you anything. Diana, I love you, will you marry me?" She looked 
thoughtful, frowning, biting her lower lip between her teeth. "Diana, I 
mean it, I want you to be my wife. Will you?" 

She helped me sit up in bed, and I discovered that my stomach hurt as 
well, I couldn't remember at what point she'd done that to me. "Jimmy, 
it's like this. I'm so much stronger than you, you're so delicate, so 
fragile. Look how much I damaged you with just one night of passion, 
look what my hands have done to your body. You daren't marry someone 
like me, it would be suicide. I get so horny, so randy, and I can't stop 
once I've started." "But Diana, I don't care, you can do whatever you 
like to me ..." She put a finger on my lips and shook her head. "Don't 
be such a silly boy, Jimmy. I know you mean well, but, well, look at 
you! How do you think you'd feel after a few months of that? No, I'm 
sorry, it just isn't on. I won't marry you, and I won't sleep with you 
again." "But Diana, how could I even feel attracted to an ordinary woman 
after the Diana experience?" She smiled, ruefully. "Yes, I know, 
that'll be a bit of a problem, I know, but I'm sorry, Jimmy, you'll just 
have to get used to the idea that not all women can do what I can. 
You're not the first guy who has found out that sex with a strong woman 
is, well, different. And you'll just have to remember this experience, 
because it's the only one you're going to get." 

"You mean, even after I recover?" She held my hands in hers and nodded. 
"I know what I'm looking for in a man, and it isn't you, Jimmy. Maybe 
I'll never find it, but I'm not giving up just yet. I'm a young girl, 
and I've got lots of time, and I'm not going into a serious relationship 
with someone who can't handle me. I'm sorry, Jimmy, you must feel bad 
about this, but that's the way it is." Bad? I felt as if the world was 
ended. I've never been in love before, and I couldn't imagine ever 
falling out of love with her. She came close and kissed me, her arms 
round me, and I felt those terrible, strong hands under my arms again, 
the fingers gently digging in, not hurting, but slightly uncomfortable, 
and I had an erection. Then she bounced off the bed, scooped up her dog, 
and said "Goodbye, darling" as she walked out of the room. 

I was alone, alone with my pain. Oh, the bruises and strains, they were 
nothing, a couple of weeks later I was fine. But the pain inside? It 
hurt like fire in my stomach, knowing that a woman like that existed, 
and I could never have her again, feel her body against mine, feel the 
pleasure of her hands on my body. I told the client how he'd been 
screwed and duly got fired, but I found another job easily enough, 
everyone wants an accountant. A few years later, the pain had subsided 
enough and I met a nice girl, and we got married. I never told her about 
Diana, I never told her how totally inadequate any woman was 
compared with Diana, how can you tell someone that? 

I think about her every day, and every night. The memory of that day is 
clear and vivid in my mind, because I've never experienced anything 
remotely comparable. Sometimes I see a blonde head, and I think "Diana" 
and a pang of anguish hits my heart, but it isn't her, it's never her. 
Oh Diana, Diana, I still love you. 



Diana the Valkyrie 
Email me at valkyrie@thevalkyrie.com
Or via alt.amazon-women.admirers