The Lady Blacksmith
by JackStraw
She proved to be much more than either of two cowboys could handle


      Apel swore and heaved an angry sigh.  Their good-for-nothing cook
had driven the chuckwagon over a rock and broken one of its rusty, worn-
out wheels.  Fortunately, the cattle drive was over, and they were still
in town.  But the rugged trail boss hated this town; he wanted to be on
his way.  He had sent the inebriated cook to get some of his other men
to help out but he knew he'd not see them for the rest of the day. 
"Damn drunkards!" he thought, and the cook was the worst of the lot. 
Before they headed their separate ways, they would have spent most of
their earnings on women, whiskey and gambling.
      He set off for the livery stable and noticed a comely young woman
sitting in a chair outside the blacksmith shop.  Her legs crossed under
a long leather skirt, slit so that he could enjoy seeing more than a
proper woman was supposed to show, she eyed him appraisingly.  Not one
to stare or to look away, he appraised her in kind and tipped his hat. 
He liked the way she filled out her cinched-in blouse.  He noted the
perspiration on her brow and her thrust back posture.  She seemed to be
relaxing after a period of exertion.  He saw a blacksmith apron beside
her and wondered where the smith was.  
      "Good afternoon, ma'am.  or miss?  Where's the smith?  I've got a
problem."
      Ignoring the first two questions, she responded, "What seems to be
the problem?"
      Pondering a moment whether it was worth the effort, he decided to
venture further.  "I've got a broken wheel there," he gestured with a
sidelong glance toward the grounded chuckwagon.
      "Well, sir," she began respectfully, "you've come to the right
place."  She walked over to a long, sturdy post that was leaning against
the building and hefted it easily onto her shoulder.  Then she whistled
for her horse, a spirited plow horse that came bounding out from behind
the building.  Guiding the horse with gentle pats of her young (but
sinewy!) hands, she ambled off in the direction of the broken-down
wagon.  Apel stood in bemused silence, staring appreciatively at the
swaying of her magnificently endowed body as she walked.
      "Well?" she turned around and arched an eyebrow on her young,
beautiful face.
      "Excuse me, ma'am, er miss?" Apel responded, uncomprehending.
      "I thought you wanted your wheel fixed.  Aren't you going to help
me get it off?" 
      "Aren't you rushing things a bit?  It's going to take more than
you and me.  You got someone else in mind?"  He remained rooted to the
same spot, not seeing any point in following yet.
      "Oh, we've got all we need," she declared quietly, her lovely
unbound hair bouncing off her broad shoulders as she alternately tossed
her head toward the huge post on one shoulder and the horse on her other
side.  "But I'll need your help once I get the wagon lifted off the
ground.  I suppose you've got a tool in the wagon to loosen the wheel?"
      He nodded and then, shrugging, followed her against his best
judgement.  This was silly.  He felt like he was the butt of a joke he
didn't understand, but she was very nice to look at, so why complain?
      When she reached the wagon, Apel was still a distance behind, not
having tried to match her energetic pace.  She dropped the long, heavy
post near the wagon, oblivious to the resounding thud and the thick
cloud of dust as it hit the ground.  Scanning the side of the street,
she spied a large boulder that was meant to block wagon traffic between
two buildings.  Without saying anything or waiting for Apel's help, she
began rolling it toward the wagon until she had it in position to use as
a fulcrum to lift the wagon.
      Normally one to make the plans and give the orders, Apel watched
at first uncomprehendingly and then in catatonic amazement.  "Well?" she
queried in her laconic manner.  "Aren't you going to loosen the wheel so
that we can slide it off?"
      "What?" Apel mumbled absently.  He had been thinking how nice her
hair smelled as she turned to face him.  She was tall for a woman and
the top of her head was just above the nostrils of the lanky trail boss. 
"Pull off the wheel while the wagon's leaning on it?" he finally managed
to respond in a confused tone, still not believing that the two of them
were going to accomplish this Herculean task.  His tone now conveyed
some respect as well, though.  He was beginning to feel that this young
woman was not to be trifled with.  Maybe it might be possible if he had
not pulled the cook aside before he could get drunk and bullied him into
getting provisions for the homeward journey, not to mention certain
things the infernal drunkard used to make money by selling to ranchers
along the way back.  He was not looking forward to unloading the damn
thing.
      "Loosen the wheel," she repeated quietly, "while I get another
rock," she went on slowly, as if speaking to a child.
      The trail boss, who was used to staring down bands of volatile,
hardened men until he got his way, found himself obeying her order
despite the obvious absurdity of it all.  Something about her manner, so
confident, so -- well, commanding!
      He rooted among the cook's disorganized pile of utensils and found
the rusty wrench.  He had to beat it on the side of the wagon to remove
enough caked rust so that it would fit on the bolt that held the wheel
to the axle.  Not feeling the need to rush this fool's errand, he
glanced casually around to see what she was up to now.  What he saw made
him stare, first in amazement and then in veritable awe.  
      She was bending down to pick up a second boulder, smaller than the
first but much larger than he would tackle, even with another man to
help.  Yet, with the barest of grunts, she straightened her legs and
hefted it to her trim waist and walked steadily to where the trail boss
was kneeling weakly next to the broken wheel, limply holding the wrench
that had slipped off the bolt while he blinked in open-mouthed wonder. 
He felt suddenly faint with a mixture of threatened masculinity and --
he gradually realized to his surprise -- sexual arousal.  
      He noted how the veins stood out through the soft skin over her
sleekly muscular neck.  Her prominent breasts were thrust out against
her blouse, now soaked with exertion-induced perspiration that made it
transparent and molded it so tightly that her nipples stood out in bold
relief.  Although the blouse had been loose enough at the top to give
him a generous view of her cleavage on their first meeting, her bust now
strained against buttons that threatened at any moment to pop off like
tiny cannon shots.  Well-defined arms and shoulders were becoming
evident under what had been loose sleeves.  The fleeting image of her
shapely legs bulging through the slits of her skirt as she had raised
the boulder from the ground kept flashing through his mind.  No, this
was not a woman to trifle with.
      He couldn't help think about whether he could have lifted that
boulder.  It must not be as heavy as it looked, he decided.  Yeah, he
could have done it, he thought, but without conviction.  Anyway, he
wouldn't -- why risk his back?  Only a woman or child would be so
reckless.
      Coming out of his revery with a start, he realized she was
impatiently waiting for him to loosen the wheel.  He gave the wrench a
vigorous yank, but, to his chagrin, nothing happened except that
something gave way in his shoulder.  He grimaced and put his entire body
into it.  Still nothing.  On his third effort, the wrench slipped off
and he thudded ass-first into the thick dust of the street. 
      Suppressing a laugh, but unable to hide the merriment in her eyes,
she delicately stepped over him.  "Let me help.  Maybe together we can
get it," she said politely.  But, before he could manage to get to his
feet, she had locked the wrench on the rusty nut and, with a loud
screeching sound, was loosening it.  "There!  You must have loosened
it," she murmured generously.
      "Now, when I lift the wagon, you slide that rock under the axle
and remove the wheel," she commanded softly in a matter-of-fact tone as
she wedged the post between the large boulder and the wagon bed.
      "Huh?"  He was slapping some of the dust off his pants.  "Look,
you're going to need more weight to --"  But before he could finish his
lesson in common sense, she had vaulted astride the horse and pulled
down on the post, inexorably levering the wagon upward.  Her legs were
gripped tightly around the big horse, bowing its flanks inward, and he
swore the horse's hooves almost left the ground as the wagon went up. 
He hurriedly removed the wheel.  He couldn't help noticing how the
muscles in her exposed forearms bulged and rippled.  When she let go of
the post, her exertion showed in the deep color in her face, the
suddenly prominent veins in her neck, and the gentle heaving of her
imposing bosom.  But her voice was calm as she directed them back to the
smithy.
      THAT I could not have done, he thought.  It was more than just a
matter of leverage.  She had used her body like a powerful spring to
pull the post and horse together.  Well, maybe it was leverage; it WAS a
very long post.  But he thought about how he had strained to ROLL the
big rock she had LIFTED.  He shook his head, and returned his gaze to
the seductive swaying of her hips and the swelling of her torso inside
the straining blouse and the lustrous hair reflecting the afternoon sun.
      Back at the shop, she closed the big double door and bolted it. 
She opened some windows high above the floor with the long post and
offered Apel some whiskey and a glass.  He glanced around; impressive
decor for a blacksmithy, he mused.
      He turned to see her stripping out of skirt and blouse in a
corner.  With almost brazen aplomb, she pulled the heavy leather apron
over her naked torso and over a brief undergarment around her crotch. 
Apel had never seen such muscles.  Her shoulders, arms, back, and legs
were densely muscled, but with an alluring feminine sleekness.  With her
side turned toward him so that he had a clear view through the gap in
the apron, he marveled at the way her chest thrust out her large
breasts.  Her body was almost completely revealed in breathtaking
profile, powerful and sexy!  Her large, striated muscles merely
highlighted the sleek curvature of her hour-glass figure, exquisitely
exaggerated on top and trimly corded in the middle. A vision, a fantasy. 
His member was so hard it ached.  She saw him staring and smiled.
      For the next thirty minutes she calmly worked at the forge,
handling the huge hammer as if it were a drum stick.  He tried to be
nonchalant, unsuccessfully willing his member to behave and his heart to
slow down.  This young woman made him feel like a child, inadequate and
worshipful.  His voice cracked adolescently as he asked about the
previous owner.  "A huge bear of a man.  What happened to him?"
      "Managed to get his back broken, not to mention most of the other
bones in his body, and died."
      "Oh, what happened?"
      Again she ignored his question, but went on with her own train of
thought.  "He was my father."
      "I'm sorry."
      "Don't be.  He lived a full life by his standards."
      "Your mother?"
      "Dead, too.  Some say of a broken heart.
      "What's your name -- I apologize, I just realized I never
introduced myself."
      "Oh, no need.  Everyone knows that you're Buck Apel, but a friend
of yours told me your real name is Adam,"  she said, her eyes
unconsciously drifted to the outcropping of his larynx that was so
prominent on his muscular neck.  She liked his rugged features.  Perhaps
a little too old for her, she thought, but he'd only be here one day and
night anyhow.  She lifted her lustrous eyes seductively to his.  "I'm
Sally."
      "Call me Buck," he said quietly, emphasizing the last word.  In
countless scraps as he was growing up, he had earned the right to the
nickname he'd chosen.  Adam Ijpel, his Dutch parents had named their
first born in America, unaware of the jokes it would bring from teasing
children in their new home.  He somehow didn't hate his real name
anymore, but only one other person knew it, or so he thought. It seemed
strange to hear it after so long.  He wondered what had happened to that
saloon girl.  He had nearly proposed to her on a steamy night a few
years ago.  Apel looked away and sighed.
      "I'm sorry," she said softly. "If the name's a secret, it's safe
with me.  Betsy left this god forsaken place a good while ago.  She just
had too much of -- of everything for these -- " She paused and went on. 
"She'll be in San Francisco or New York or London by now.  I think I was
the only one who understood her at all.  She liked you a lot, if it
matters to you."  She looked up at him searchingly.
      "Why don't you pour yourself another drink, Mr. Apel?"
      "Uh, thanks, but no.  How much longer will the wheel take?"
      "Quite a while.  I have to let this part cool, then I'll be fusing
this other section back.  Look," she raised her head to him as if she'd
just had a thought, "why don't I pour you some water for a bath.  More
private than the hotel and hotter water, too!"
      "Well, I don't think --" he started to reply, but she had danced
off with a huge steaming kettle from near the fire and disappeared
behind a curtain.  He heard what sounded like the kettle and then a
large bucket of water being emptied into a tub.  She pulled the curtain
open to reveal a lightly steaming elegant tub, more elegant certainly
than any the trail boss had ever rubbed against his skin.  "It's on the
house.  Don't tell me you wouldn't like one.  I know you cowboys fight
over those tepid things they offer at the hotel."
      "Well, if you insist," he replied with a smile.  It seemed rude to
refuse now.
      He stepped inside the curtain and stripped off his clothes.  He
noted the white color of his legs against the nut-brown leathery skin of
his hands.  He eased down into the hot water, letting his body adjust to
its heat bit by bit.  Settling finally with a sigh of comfort, he looked
around for soap, not that he really cared for any.  What he really
wanted was a smoke.
      "Looking for this?" she asked throatily.
      He blinked his eyes upward toward the parting curtain.  She was
holding a bar of soap in one hand and a whiskey in another, and she
didn't have on a stitch  of clothing!  The rugged trail boss swallowed
loudly.  Her glorious body glistened with a sheen of light perspiration
from working near the forge.  Bursting with vitality and so utterly
beautiful, she approached him with a seductive, knowing smile.  Apel
could only gape.  His aroused member made a small sound as it erected in
the water.
      "Well, uh -- this is definitely better service than the hotel,
ma'am" he finally managed to squeak out.  She bowed and chuckled, as
much at his confusion as at his wit.
      "You can call me Sally, Mr. Apel," she smiled enticingly.
      "Buck," he rejoined laconically, captivated by her lovely face.
      As she leaned down toward the flustered trail boss, the spell was
broken by a tremendous racket at the back of the smithy.  The large
plowhorse had started bucking in his stall.  Until now, Apel had not
noticed that a door at the back of the smithy opened into the stall, so
that the horse could actually enter the premises.  Apel was startled,
but, before he knew it, the nude amazon had scaled a stanchion and
leaped astride her bucking horse.  
      "Now, Dragon, calm down!  Don't be naughty!  You have no call to
be so jealous!  Do I have to show you who's boss?"  She clamped her
naked legs around the steed.  Apel became weak in the knees as he
watched her thighs and calves expand immensely into steely ridges that
cut incredibly into the flanks of the sturdy horse.  The horse neighed
in a pitiful cry of pain and slowly collapsed onto the straw-covered
floor.
      Sally gave the horse a couple of vicious flexes and then
triumphantly rose from the whimpering stallion.  She told it to get up,
swatted it, and sent it through a door behind his stall.  She closed,
bolted, and locked the door.
      Apel had seen enough.  It didn't matter that this sexy virago set
his body on fire like no other female ever had, and she still hadn't
even touched him!  She was just too strange.  And dangerous!
      Not finding a towel, he started to grab for his pants as he
dripped water on the floor.  But they were whisked out of his hands
before he had a good grasp.
      "Now, wait until I tell people how the great Apel tried to run
away from me!" she laughed merrily.  Batting her long eyelashes
bewitchingly, she drew his wet body against her impressive breasts and
murmured, "There's really no reason to leave.  Where are you going to
go?  It's not good manners to just jump up and run off."  He tried to
move his arms and legs, but she had them trapped with her more powerful
limbs and seemed not to notice his efforts.  Molded skin to skin against
her powerful, sleek, perfectly formed body and captivated by her
smoldering eyes, he lost the urge to resist.  His hardening member would
have erected in full iron-hard glory except that its upward thrust was
arrested by slapping against her hot, moist pubic mound, its bending of
his penis completing her conquest of his body.  She raised up on tiptoes
and opened her thighs to capture his engorged prong between them.  Her
sinewy thighs sawed up and down on it, sending waves of hot pleasure
crashing against his brain, which in turn sent one insistent signal
throughout his body.  The horse, the wheel, this lousy town -- all was
forgotten.  He sunk into the tub as she pressed him downward, his body
on fire.
      Once again a loud noise interrupted them.  Someone was banging on
the immense front door of the smithy.  "Open up, Sally," bellowed a loud
male voice on the other side of the door.  "Sally!  Open up!  I know
you're in there and I'm not goin' away!"
      She sighed and muttered under her breath, "You'll pay for this
Sam.  You'll really pay this time."
      She drew the long curtain to hide the naked trail boss, who sunk
obligingly down into the big tub.  She put on a long, loose shirt over
her naked torso, the long tails of which hung below the bottom of the
short, frilly undergarment with which she covered her wet pubic mound. 
The shirt hid her arms, but she left the top buttons undone so that the
tops of her large breasts and the deep cleavage between them were
prominently bared.  Her beautifully muscled legs were naked down to the
high-heeled boots.
      She jerked open the door.
      "Get rid of that cowpoke, Sally, or I'll beat him to a pulp,"
yelled a red-faced giant of a man.  "I know he's in here.  You're my
girl, Sally.  You keep forgetting that."
      "Sam, I've made it very plain that I want nothing to do with you. 
Never have, never will.  And if you don't leave this instant, you'll
regret it for the rest of your miserable life -- which could be a very
short one, if you ever bother me again!"
      "Damn, Sal, I love it when you're riled.  You've just got it all
over any other gal," he chuckled, touching her hair.
      She batted his hand away furiously.  "I'm serious, you bastard. 
Leave.  Now.  While you still can."
      "Still the tomboy," he chuckled again.  "I love your fire, gal. 
I'm the only one who ain't afraid of you.  You know they're all afraid
to come courtin' ya," he smirked as if congratulating himself at telling
a good joke.
      "You mean they're tired of being attacked by you and your no-
account cousins.  You've caused me nothing but grief lately.  Give me
one good reason I shouldn't break every bone in your body with my bare
hands," she spat out through clenched teeth.
      "One reason," he repeated and paused.  "Well, for starters because
you couldn't."  He grinned smugly.  "You're strong for a woman and I
like that, but you're no match for a real man like me.  Just ask Jasper
or Joe," he smirked again reaching to draw her into a hug.
      She pushed him away before he could embrace her.  "A real man, you
say?  You don't think I couldn't beat you to a pulp?  Believe me, I've
done it to better than you."  She paused and then continued in an
exasperated tone, "You think just because you're a man, you must be
stronger?  You don't think smithy work requires more muscle than
whatever it is you do?  Well, how about a little contest of strength,
Sammy?  Prove what a man you are," she challenged, looking him in the
eye.
      "What, against you?  That's silly.  I didn't come here to fight
against you.  I'm after that yellow-bellied cowpoke who's in here
somewhere afraid to show himself."
      "If there's someone else in here, it's none of your business. 
Forget about it.  Besides, you're the one who's yellow.  You're afraid
to match muscles with a girl.  You're the one who's afraid of me!" she
taunted.  When he merely smirked at her, she realized her taunting was
having no effect.  Her first thought was to slap him, slap him until he
tried to retaliate or overpower her.  Then she glanced at her anvil and
it gave her an idea.  "But look," she continued in a different tone,
"I'll make it easy for you to prove yourself.  I need someone with a
little muscle to help me move something.  If you're up to it, maybe I've
underestimated you after all."
      "Help, huh?  Just like a woman.  First you're talkin' about
fightin' and then you want my help.  Sure, what can I do for ya?"
      "Oh, I haven't changed my mind.  It's just that I want to use your
muscles before I crush them to mush,"  she leaned in close to him and
wrapped herself sensuously around him.  "Perhaps we are meant for each
other.  You're a bad boy and I'm a bad girl who loves to put bad boys in
their place."
      Behind the curtain, Apel was pondering his situation.  He had
never intended to hang around this long.  He could hear most of what was
being said and he was surprised at her childish bantering.  If she
really wanted to get rid of this loudmouth, she was going about it all
wrong.  Should he depart or stay?  A fleeting image of Sally entering
the bathtub stirred his still erect cock and decided the issue for him
momentarily.  What else did he have to do today?  This was his day of
recreation before heading back.  He reached for the whiskey and sunk
down into the warm water of the bathtub with a muted sigh.  Out in the
smithy, hearing the clink of glass and the muted gurgling of the bath
water, Sam turned his head toward the sound.  But Sally sprang to
action, giving him an all-out fusillade with the sexual weapons of her
arsenal, and his brain, never one of his strong points, ceased conscious
functioning.
      "My, Sam, such big muscles you've got.  I've been looking for the
man's who's strong enough to make me behave.  No one's been able to yet,
but I keep looking.  Are you the one, big cowboy?"  she breathed in his
ear, molding and rubbing her perfect feminine physique against him.
      She unbuttoned the top of his shirt and stroked the hairs on his
immense chest.  The open front of her shirt drew his eyes to a generous
view of her spectacular cleavage.  She rubbed her large breasts and hard
nipples against him.  Placing one hand behind his head, she brought his
lips roughly down to hers in a hot, moist kiss.  Simultaneously, she
placed her other hand behind his butt and rubbed his bulging crotch with
her bared and sensuously muscled leg.  In a reversal of the stereotypic
interplay of the sexes, he appeared to struggle against her as she drew
the breath from his body with her kiss and continued her forceful
ministrations of his obviously aroused crotch area.
      Men are so easy, she thought to herself.  I could bring this hulk
to his knees without a single punch or wrestling hold, but it's so much
fun to do it both ways.  Puff em up and then rip em apart.  So easy! she
mused as she teased his insistent erection through his tented pants with
her naked thigh.  Sam was so dizzy with lust and lack of air that he
would have fallen were it not for her muscular legs easily supporting
them both.
      Finally, Sam's arms went limp and she released her full, moist
lips from his.  Sam's head fell limply toward her bared bosom and then
bounced upward when those strong globes heaved upward as she took a deep
breath.  She rubbed the back of her hand across her lips and grimaced as
if trying to remove a bad taste.
      His eyes fluttered open.  "My, Sal, you want it bad, girl," he
croaked.
      "First, though, I need to use your big muscles, Sam, honey," she
said throatily.  "I want to move my anvil over there," she said nodding
toward her large anvil and then pointing toward a spot on the opposite
side of the fire area.
      Sam looked doubtful.  "That's a big hunk of metal and you've got
it attached to a bigger hunk of wood," he said indicating the sawed-off
trunk of a great oak to which the anvil had been nailed with huge iron
spikes.  "I'll go get some men to help me -- after we do some more
smoochin'."
      "Oh, Sam, don't go weak on me now.  You're always braggin' about
your big muscles.  How about puttin' 'em to some use?" she said pushing
away from him.  She strode over to the anvil, giving Sam a good view of
her breathtaking femininity, more revealed than covered by her loose
shirt.  Then, she bent her legs slightly, grabbed the pointed end of the
anvil, and lifted one end of the anvil and its sturdy oaken base off the
ground.  "See, it's not so heavy," breathing easily, she said to the
surprised giant.  "The two of us can do it."
      "Well, okay, maybe that side's not," he said in a puzzled voice. 
"But that's the light end and almost all the weight's still on the
ground," he finished confidently as if he were an engineer explaining a
physics problem.  "Besides Sal, you're apt to hurt yourself doing things
like that.  I know you're real strong for a girl, but you need a big man
like me to do the heavy lifting around here."
      "Oh, bah!  This is nothing for me.  But it sounds like it's too
much for you.  I'm not surprised; men really are the weaker sex.  Never
seen one yet that could keep up with me.  A few minutes ago, though, I
thought you were the man for me.  Now I'm having second thoughts.  I
thought you could help me but I guess you're not man enough."
      "Who's not man enough?  Name one man who's stronger than me and
I'll beat the manure out of him without breaking a sweat," he roared. 
"All right, if anyone can do it, I can.  But be careful you don't hurt
yourself," he brayed as he swaggered over and removed his shirt.  "This
is what you wanted to see, wasn't it?" he snickered as he proudly flexed
his bared chest and thick arms.  
      Bending his legs and back, he placed his large hands under the
other end of the anvil, grunted with effort, and managed to raise his
end a couple of inches off the ground.  Within seconds he was drenched
in sweat, his face and vein-swollen neck were red as the sunset, and his
grunting belied exertion to the point of pain.  Still holding the other
end higher than his, she started backing away with it.  
      "Whoa!" he croaked shakily as his end slipped from his grasp and
thudded loudly on the ground of the smithy.  
      As he panted noisily, she said brightly, "We were doing it.  Now,
if you get your end up higher, we can make short work of this and do
something more interesting!"
      Still panting, he was clearly dumfounded that she seemed hardly to
be exerting herself.  "Look, that end is a lot lighter, and you were
holding it so that almost all the weight was on me."
      "Oh," she giggled, "THAT was the problem.  I thought maybe the big
man wasn't as strong as the little woman.  Okay, you lift your end first
and get it high enough so that more weight's on me.  Let's try that, big
guy.  I don't want your heart to give out before we tumble in the hay."
      "Does this thing have to go over there?" he asked in a petulant
tone.
      "Look, are you man enough to help me or not?  Give little ole me
more of the weight this time," she taunted.  "Don't ever do any smithy
work.  You don't have the muscle for it."
      Her taunting had the desired effect.  With fire in his eyes, he
roared, "Okay, you asked for it."  And with the energy of his anger to
aid him, he slowly hefted his end a few inches off the ground.  "Now
lift your end if you can, girly," he wheezed challengingly, clearly not
expecting that she could, now that the weight would have shifted toward
her.
      "Okay," she said gaily and lifted her end immediately upward and
started retreating with it toward the other end of the large fire area.
      Trying to match her gait, he moved also.  But as he took another
step, he stumbled and let the big anvil and its base thud to the ground
once again. "Damn, Sally, I think you've given me a hitch in my back,"
he complained, holding his side and lower back as he settled awkwardly
on one knee.   "Let's forget about moving this thing, for now.  I'll
round up a couple of other guys after you and me make up for lost time
in the hay back there."
      "I can't believe what a weakling you are," she taunted
disgustedly.  "Why would I want to waste any more time on a nothing like
you?"
      "Thanks a lot for your concern, lady.  And as for weak -- again, I
say name one man who's stronger."
      "Well, there's at least one WOMAN who is," she said coyly, pulling
off her loose shirt.  Now almost nude before the stupefied giant at her
feet, she flexed and stretched the awesome physique that he had never
before been privy to view.  The womanly curves robbed a man's breath. 
Her incredible musculature made him feel small at the same time her
beauty and audacious curves made a part of him get much bigger.
      "I guess this calls for a little gal power.  The big man wasn't up
to it," she teased.  Grinning at his slack-jawed shock from viewing her
nude physique, "What's the matter?  Not so proud of your manly muscles
anymore?" she sneered at him.
      "Maybe you weren't doing it properly," she murmured. "Remember,
you lift mostly with your legs."  So saying, she planted her feet wide
apart, bent her legs 90 degrees at the knees, grasped her hands under
each side of the huge anvil, and with a jerk straightened her legs as
she flexed her mighty arms.  Muscles exploded into jagged relief all
over her body, exaggerating her womanly curves, even as they put to
shame any male physique Sam had ever seen.  Higher and higher she hefted
the anvil until it slapped up against her large, heavy breasts, thrust
out on the thick pectoral muscles of her deep, deep chest.  Pivoting
around and walking steadily under this prodigious weight, she managed to
talk without panting or wheezing, though her face and upper body
darkened from the exertion and beads of perspiration broke out over her
beautiful skin.  "This is what a woman can do, you big LITTLE man, if
she works her body day after day at something that requires a little
muscle.  Maybe if you worked more and blew wind less, Sam, you might get
some decent muscle, too.  But for now, you ain't nothin' but a fly speck
to me.  I can do anything I want to you, and there's nothing that
bullying body of yours can do to stop it."
      She let the anvil down gently to ground and turned her attention
to the man who was awkwardly clambering to his feet.  She caught the top
of his pants with one hand as he tried to escape and reeled him to her
with the flexing of that one mighty arm.  "And there's plenty I mean to
do to you, you no-good bully.  I don't know where you got the idea that
I was YOUR gal, but you're sadly mistaken.  And I'm going to pay you
back for what you done to Jasper and Jason.  You ain't NEVER gonna hurt
none of my friends again."
      The big man's face took on a frantic look, and he visibly
trembled.  Completely stripped of his normal swagger, in his panic he
punched her in her rock-solid belly and yelped as it hurt his wrist.
      "Come on," she taunted, moving between him and the door, and
putting her arms across her gravity-defying melon-sized breasts, "you
can do better than that.  You're always brayin' to the guys about what a
terrific punch you have, but I think you're nuthin but a creampuff.  Go
on.  Hit me a good one.  Show the little woman what a big man can do!" 
She stood exposing her midriff, taunting him to hit her.  Her trim waist
flexed into a corded washboard of muscular flesh as she dared the big
man to prove himself.
      "Okay, girlie," he said grimly, "remember you asked for this.  You
won't be the first woman who needed a little slapping around to put her
head back on straight.  Maybe I should give you a little spankin' too. 
Your snoot's always been a little too high for your own good," he
finished fiercely.
      Narrowing his eyes as she continued smirking at him despite his
threats, he decided to give her a hard thump to wipe that smile off her
face.  Her taunting was setting off his volatile temper.  But his first
punch did not even make her flinch and her smile broadened.  Growling
with anger, he gave it all he had, beating his huge fists onto the soft
skin that cloaked her oaken abs, hips, sides, shoulders and back, until
he tired enough that he gave up.  When he swung for her face she blocked
him and covered her breasts against punches there, but otherwise she let
him vent his rage and run out of steam, smirking at him contemptuously.
      As he dropped his arms to catch his breath, she grabbed both of
his hands and raised them upward for a traditional test of strength. 
"Come on, big guy, let me show you why I could lift that little hunk of
metal and you couldn't."  Despite his height and leverage advantage, it
was no contest.  She forced him moaning in pain to his knees and
continued pressing his wrists backward toward the ground and grinding
his hands with hers.  "Where's that great strength you're so proud of? 
Fight back, you spineless sidewinder, you big sissy!  Can't even save
yourself from a girl!"  He tried, sobbing with pain and effort, but to
no avail.  "Kiss the ground, you weak excuse for a man.  Kiss it and I
might let you up!" she snarled.  
      "Oh, Sal, please, let me go.  My wrists hurt bad.  I think you
done broke one.  Please!" he sobbed, dutifully pressing his lips to the
grimy floor and then spitting dirt out pitifully.  Still she did not
relent, grinding one of his hands to pulpy, purplish mess with the
awesome strength of one of her work-trained hands, unmoved by his high-
pitched screams and ineffectual kicking and squirming to free himself.  
      "No more bullying of the boys who want to see me!" she commanded
sternly, contemptuously resting her other hand on her delectably thrust
out hip.  Still holding his damaged hand with one of hers, despite his
frantic efforts to free it with his other hand, she yanked the hand
easily away from his other hand and whirled him around.  Holding him
upright with her free arm, she jammed his crushed hand high up his back
until his shoulder was put under tremendous strain.
      "Oh, god.  Oh, god!  Stop, Sally, stop!  My shoulder!" he screamed
as she pushed brutally upward.
      "YOU stop ME, big guy!  Can't do it can you?  I've only used one
hand against you and you can't stop it, you big soft baby.  A woman is
doing this to you," she hissed throatily, running her free hand
seductively over his naked chest and shoulders and kissing him hotly on
the neck. "A woman you'd love to be slammin' in the hay but ain't man
enough," she breathed, rubbing her big firm breasts and thickly engorged
nipples into his naked back and moving her hand inside his pants to the
bulge in his crotch. "A woman that's got you so hot you can't think of
anything else." The big man gasped with arousal, forgetting the pain in
his hand and shoulder momentarily as she arrested her pressure at the
breaking point.  Whirling him around suddenly and then letting go of the
arm she had been torturing, she stepped backward and put her hands on
her hips.  "You know you want me.  Go ahead, try to take me.  Show the
little lady that you're man enough to put me down," she taunted.
      When the blinking man hesitated, she pushed him down and tugged
off his boots as she sat on his legs.  Jumping up, she grabbed the
bottoms of his pants and ripped them off as he flailed his legs
unsuccessfully.  She giggled as his dirty, floppy, button-down drawers
were revealed, and then she ripped them off as well.
      With a bellow of rage, he struggled to his feet.  She backed away
toward the door, smiling and beckoning with her fingers, challenging him
to attack her.  Hands on flaring hips, she drew a deep breath and held
it with an imperious smile of utter invincibility.  About to make his
charge, Sam was momentarily frozen in place by this vision.  Her torso
had exploded into a voluptuous, powerful sculpture of iron-hard feminine
pulchitrude.  Her lightly bronzed skin, exposed by disrobing and
glistening with perspiration, added to her extremely erotic allure.  It
was so different than the white, creamy appearance of other girls when
they disrobed and contrasted exotically with the white of her tight,
lacy bloomers.  Sam pictured her working by the forge in the nude,
working those arousing muscles and thrusting her imposing breasts, and
his penis sprang to attention.
      Seeing his condition, she giggled.  "Like what you see, cowboy?" 
And she danced in front of him, making his erection engorge and harden
further.  Spittle formed at the side of his mouth and his breathing
quickened in the obvious throes of lust.  She giggled again.  Men were
so easy!  "Well, come and get it if you can.  Are you man enough to take
me down and stick that little twig in me like you want so badly?  Or
will I take you?  This the only way out of here, so you'll have to do
something.  Kick me, bite me, pull my hair, do all those sissy-bully
things.  It won't matter, you weak cowpoke, because I can rip you apart
with one hand tied behind my back."  Again she invited him with taunting
finger, a big smug smirk on her face.
      With another bellow, he charged, slamming her into the door with
his charge.  He grabbed one of her wrists with both of his hands and
whirled her around so that he now had her arm behind her back.
      "There, how do YOU like it, girlie?" he yelled as he pushed
upward.  He was protecting his damaged hand and wrist by pushing upward
with the forearm while he gripped her wrist as hard as he could with the
other hand.
      She merely laughed at his onslaught and tickled his exposed ribs
with her free hand.  "Got a good hold have you, little boy?  Go ahead
push upward with both your arms against my one arm.  It's only fair to
give the weaker sex an advantage, your two against my one.  Pa was
always rumbling about how much stronger men were than women, that I
couldn't do this and I couldn't do that because females were weaker. 
Well, he found out which was the weaker sex in the end.  You're just
like him, never asking a woman, always telling her, bullying everyone
who's smaller.  You're a yellow-bellied coward, Sam, but you've made a
big mistake this time.  I am going to rip you apart and I won't even
work up a sweat.  Go ahead, try to hurt me with those big muscles of
yours.  We've already seen how weak you really are."
      He had bent her arm behind her back, but despite his best efforts,
he could not bend it further.  All the while that she had been deriding
him with her chatter about being weaker and belonging to the weaker sex,
he had been grunting with effort.  His muscles bulged monstrously, but
the woman's muscles swelled too, until they rivalled in size those of
her large attacker and far surpassed his in definition.  Her shoulder,
triceps, and biceps thickened and separated into awesomely striated
ridges.  The man's arms began to tremble and give way.  He whimpered
like a wounded animal as he felt himself being overcome.  He the man,
the supposedly stronger sex, with all the advantages of leverage and
weight, not only could not hold her arm in this vulnerable position, but
his two arms were being inexorably forced downward and outward by her
one awesomely flexed arm.  In this contest of brute strength, the woman
was proving far stronger, as she had ever since he had dared to enter
her shop.  Apel, peeking out through a small gap in the curtain could
not believe what he was seeing, a big man bulging with muscles most men
would envy, giving way after holding the single arm of this beautiful
young woman in the most vulnerable position imaginable with both of his
thick arms.
      True to her word, she now had managed to force his trembling arms
outward until her arm was no longer trapped behind her back.  The big
brute looked exhausted.  Not only was the woman stronger, but she had
far more endurance.  Sweat poured down his red face and he was breathing
in gasps.  The fierce pounding he had tried to give her with his fists
and now these drawn-out tests of strength had sapped all his energy. 
She whirled around to face him, twisting her arm inside his now slippery
grip.  With her powerful legs spread apart solidly holding her ground
and her other hand held contemptuously on her hip, she continued pushing
backward on both of the exhausted giant's arms.  She smiled smugly as
fear registered on his face.  How could she be so strong and I so weak,
he wondered, the question, the shock, written clearly on his
transparent, contorted features.
      "How humiliatin', huh, Sam?  Your big cowpoke muscles can't stop
me, two of yours against one of the sexy lady's, and your little poker
wiltin' against my tummy like your soft muscles, and you cain't do
nuthin' bout it."  Looking smugly into his eyes, she reached her free
hand around to his big rear end and pulled him tightly toward her.  She
wriggled the soft skin of her rippling abdomen against his trapped penis
and felt it begin to swell again.  She giggled in rapturous delight.  He
groaned in pain and lust.  Tears of frustration welled up at not being
able to arrest her strength, at the humiliation of knowing the girl he
lusted for was laughing at him.
      "Come on, Sam, I don't think you're trying anymore," she taunted. 
"That's going to cost you an arm, I'm afraid."  She yanked her wrist
from his grasp and grabbed his damaged wrist, simultaneously pushing so
that now one of HIS arms was behind HIS back.  It was now out of reach
for his other hand, so he used that hand to punch at one of her big,
firm breasts, but in such close quarters it merely made her giggle at
his inability to hurt her.  "Oh, Sam, don't tickle me like that.  You're
gonna make me laugh."  She quickly withdrew her free hand from his butt
and grabbed his free arm at the wrist as well.  She yanked both his arms
brutally out to his sides.  Pressing her big breasts seductively against
his yielding chest and her abdomen tightly against his now turgid prick,
she throatily challenged him again.  "Are you up for one more test of
strength, big guy.  You push against me, I push against you.  The
loser -- well, I intend to tear up your shoulders this time, Sammy boy! 
I could have done it before but that would have been too soon. Not
enough fun for me, not enough pain for you. That's it push! You kinda
jumped the gun, but that's okay."
      Sensing that it was his last chance to prevail or escape, Sam put
all his considerable weight and remaining energy into it.  Ignoring the
searing pain in his wrist, he first pushed with all his might and then
suddenly pulled in an attempt to pull her off balance and get her on the
floor.  But her thickly muscled legs were immovable.  Slowly,
inexorably, she pushed the big bully toward the door, his planted feet
plowing grooves in the gravel floor.  As she pushed, she rubbed her big
breasts against his chest and when his midsection touched hers, she
rubbed against his turgid erection, keeping him on the edge sexually as
well as near exhaustion physically.  Slowly, effortlessly it seemed, she
pushed upward and backward on the exhausted man's arms, raising them
behind his back.  When she had them nearly meeting behind him and part
way upward she shifted her grips upward to the elbows so that she could
continue yanking them upward.  Even so his girth forced her to burrow
her breasts into his chest to be able to reach that far.  She noted with
satisfaction that the thrusting of her own immense chest was crushing
inward on his and he gasped every time she took a deep breath.  She
almost laughed as she toyed with him in this way, forcing him to gulp in
air whenever she would let him.  The pressure on his shoulders was
becoming painful as she yanked ever upward despite his furious efforts
to resist.  And more and more she insinuated her flexing midriff against
his erect member.
      She had him backed against the wall now, with his naked butt
pressed forcefully against the rough wood.  The wall and his girth
impeded her pulling his arms up further behind him, but she solved the
problem by kicking savagely with her booted heels at the back of his
ankles, each in rapid succession.  His butt slid down the rough wood,
picking up painful splinters, and his head sunk forward into the deep
chasm between her large, firm breasts.  Maintaining her grip on his
elbows and her terrible upward pressure, she brought his arms upward
until his shoulder ligaments crackled with the strain and mashed his
face brutally into the hard, deep muscles between her intimidating
breasts.  Knowing that she could break him at her leisure now and with
her arms now encircling his neck rather than being restricted by
reaching around his immense chest, she released her right hand quickly
from his left elbow, thrust it against his right elbow, grasping it in a
vise-like grip, as she released her left hand to cause mischief wherever
she chose.
      She grabbed his hair so that he had to look into her eyes as she
hissed, "I'm going to break you now, you he-man.  Just as I crushed the
bones in your hand, I'm going to rip apart both of your shoulders.  And
I'm going to use just ONE arm to do it.  That's all I need.  Still think
you're stronger because you're a man?  Bah!  Men are nothing!  Nothing
but playthings for me!" she laughed throatily, betraying her own
arousal.
      She turned his head roughly and pushed it slowly across the
contour of her prodigious and firm right breast, forcing him to
acknowledge its arousing and intimidating perfection.  Playfully, she
ground one of her steely nipples into his right eye until the injury
caused tears to stream out of it and he was sniffling like a baby from
the flooding of his sinuses.  She exulted in his complete inability to
arrest this erotic torture.  Tiring of that, she turned his head further
so that his nose was resting on her bicep.  
      "Here, have a good look at what's gonna rip you apart, bully boy!" 
His frantic eyes widened as her bicep bunched into a jagged rock of
muscle.  
      She flexed her corded abdomen against his penis at the same time
and traced her finger along the contours of his excited member.  "Gee,
that little feller gets bigger and harder as my muscles get bigger and
harder.  That's got to be embarassin', huh, big guy?"
      He was losing the test of strength, her one arm against both his,
even though his adrenaline surged in his terror at intense pain and the
prospect of losing both shoulders.  At the same time, he was powerless
to prevent the teasing that had him near sexual explosion.  When he had
such a powerful urge to spurt his seed, the woman should be on the
bottom begging him to be gentle as he rammed it home to satisfy his
need.  Not like this.  Not like this!  And then it happened.  Both
things he wanted to stop, were happening at once.  He spurted in great
impotent glops that were whipped to an erogenous foam by the rubbing of
her delicious torso against his, even as loud tearing sounds and instant
pain signalled the demise of his shoulders.  He sobbed and gasped from
the twin insults.
      "Wh -- why are doing this to me, Sal?  If you ain't my gal, ya
just had to say so.  I ain't done nuthin to you, nuthin to deserve
this," he sobbed pitifully.  His legs no longer supported him as he
slumped weakly against her powerful chest and shoulders, their combined
weights easily supported by her muscular legs.
      "I have told you over and over I ain't your gal, you bullyin' rock
head.  You're just pretending now that you didn't understand.  You
didn't pay attention before, because you felt you could do anything you
want and the hell with anybody else.  Why am I doing it?  Because you
deserve it, you bastard!"  She brutally yanked back on his ruined
shoulders bringing more sickening crackling sounds and high-pitched
shrieks of pain from the sobbing man.  "That's for the jaw you broke of
Joe's.  THIS is for the ribs you busted on Jasper."  She yanked again
and again with her mighty arm, amid more shrieks, and finally let go of
both his arms.  They dangled limply, lifelessly, hanging seemingly only
by his skin, which was taking on a terrible purplish hue, especially
dark in color at the joints.
      "Why?" she continued.  "Because you deserve it for being the kind
of man I hate," she spat out and grabbed his head so that he had to look
at her.  "And because it's FUN bringing down a boy like you," she said
throatily, stroking his face like a child.  The abject, defeated look on
this formerly swaggering bully made her crotch and nipples tingle with
lust.  She threw him down on the ground and ground her boot on his
shrinking penis, coated with the spunk he had loosed on himself and her. 
It delighted her further to see that he had ejaculated even as she
ripped him apart.  It was a testament to her overpowering sexual allure
and to the obvious superiority of women over men, a law of nature that
she never tired of proving.  
      Sexily stepping out of her frilly underwear, she descended upon
him to rub her tingling pussy and nipples roughly along his white skin,
revelling in the superiority of her physique.  Despite his pain and
utter degradation, the rubbing of his bare skin against her delectable
body with its soft velvety skin once again brought him to a large
achingly hard erection.  She noticed and chuckled softly, almost shocked
at how easy men were to play with.  This was another erogenous
stimulation for her, sending her into a state that had to be satisfied.
      "Oh, you are making me hot, Sam, sticking your little twig against
my superior legs.  You'd like to put it in me but you're not strong
enough.  Not nearly strong enough.  No man is!  I'm tearing you apart,
mashing you to a pulp, and still you can't keep from worshippin' little
ole me.  Oh, I think I'm gonna come!  Have you ever been raped, Sam?"
she gasped, mashing his face deeply into her sopping crotch and grinding
roughly with her eyes closed until the powerful spasms in her nether
regions subsided.
      "My, that was so good, Sam!  Did you enjoy it as much as me?" she
taunted the nearly unconscious and pitifully sobbing giant, now bleeding
from a broken nose.  
      It was too much for the volatile bully.  "You're gonna regret
this, you bastard bitch.  No one does this to my family or me.  You're
as good as dead!" he managed to gasp out between sobs of pain.
      "My, my, Sam.  Threatening me?  You ain't in a very good position
for threats.  And such language!  I guess you ain't learned your lesson
yet.  Good!" she smiled down at him, feeling another tingle in her pussy
at the prospect of beating him further.  "There's just so much to punish
you for, considerin' all the evil you've done in your short span on this
earth!  And so many lessons to teach such a disgustin' member of the
weaker sex."
      "How about a little demonstration of the strength of a woman's
leg?  Pa was amazed that last time at how I could pulverize him with
just my glorious legs.  The legs I built up by riding Dragon bareback
and racing him in the meadow and pushing against heavy rocks with them." 
She now laced one of her legs over Sam's and drew it up so that his
thick thigh rubbed against her deliciously firm derriere.  
      The man sobbed in fear of what was to come next.  "Now don't cry,
my big baby.  I'm going to give you a big advantage and if you can stop
me from doing what I want, I'll let you up to go free.  If you lose, you
deserve to lose, for pretending to be strong when you're just a big soft
crybaby.  I'm going to slowly straighten out that big leg of yourn and
then I'm going to start bending it backwards the way nature don't
intend.  Did you hear how Pa's knees was both broke when he died?  But
I'm giving you a big advantage.  You can wrap your other leg around it
to stop me.  Yeah, you're already doing it -- you catch on quick
sometimes, too bad you're such a log head otherwise.  Now there's no way
a girlie like me, a girlie who makes you all hot and bothered, there's
no way I can push out against those two big legs of yourn, especially
after I told you what I'm going to do -- one girlie leg against two
tough cowpoke ones?  So just stop you're crying, you big baby."  
      Emerging from the now cool water of the tub, Apel was curious to
see what was happening.  He watched through the crack in the curtain
stupefied and, despite his horror at her brutality, his penis lurched
into a painfully hard state as her delicious leg muscles, one of many
lust-inducing women parts he rarely saw, bunched, expanded, and
separated into smooth individual cords of seemingly immense power.  Sam
grunted with effort, terrified to feel both of his legs being moved by
her single one.  He put all his energy and huge musculature into
stopping this movement and seemed to succeed when his leg had moved from
the sharp angle of the beginning of this "contest" to a little beyond 90
degrees.
      "Are you giving it all you've got, Sammy?" she asked in a voice
that betrayed effort but was controlled in comparison to his gasping
grunts.  She grinned ominously down into his eyes and gloated at the
evidence of his effort in the sweat-bathed brow, indeed his entire body
between them was wetter and hotter from his effort to prevent further
pain and humiliation at the hands of this woman he had wanted so badly. 
"Yes, I believe you are, but it isn't enough, Sammy, not nearly enough,"
she smiled into his bewildered eyes as she hissed with the effort of
putting more pressure against the combined pressure of his two big,
burly legs.  Apel was astounded by the increased expansion of her legs,
lethal and erotic at the same time. 
      Looking superciliously into Sam's agonized face, she raised an
eyebrow in mock surprise, "My, it seems my little leg IS stronger than
both of yours.  It's -- no -- contest!"  She cried exultantly,
orgasmically, as she powered the three legs outward so that Sam's
entwined leg was now completely straight and his other leg was mainly
useless at that angle.  She pressed her big breasts dominantly into his
imploding chest, her hard nipples burrowing into his skin as she powered
her rock hard, bulging leg bending backward toward her the mighty globes
of her sensuous derriere.  Though she was doing so against the thick
legs of her adversary, one of which was bending at the knee in the
direction nature never intended, she seemed to be expending no more
effort than a school girl lying on a bed reading a book and bending her
legs in absent joy.  Sam had never lost his second erection completely
and in her effort Sally found her thatch grinding down on this dominated
male shaft and felt it respond.  As she snapped his leg with a vicious
contraction of her thick leg muscles, she had her second orgasm,
squeezing her clit tightly against Sam's hard penis and mashing it into
his soft bowels.  Shrieking in abject pain, the broken bully felt
utterly degraded, not even realizing that his dominated member had
spurted weakly once again.
      "My Sam, you weren't any challenge at all!  I had no idea how much
stronger my sexy female legs were.  Feeling my muscles get bigger and
bigger and besting a big blowhard like you is givin' me the love fever
again.  I feel hot all over.  Sometimes I just can't get enough!"   She
bent his head toward the sculpted basin that was her powerful, trim
abdomen and forced him to lick up the goo he had deposited on its
corded, velvety surface.  Then, moaning in arousal, she pushed him
backward and plopped her snatch roughly onto his face and forced him to
suck out her juices.
      "Oh, Sam, wouldn't it be great if I was doing this to you?  If you
were man enough to make me suck on this little poker of yourn," she
taunted, amid her lustful moaning, batting his limp, abraded member
roughly back and forth.  Then, mashing her slit brutally down on his
nose and mouth, she rode him like the broncos she loved to tame.  "Yes,
oh, YEEESSS!"  In her lustful frenzy she laced her ankles together and
squeezed her bulging thighs around his skull, bringing her sex more and
more tightly against her face.  Grinding it, grinding it, until Apel was
sure his nose would be gone if she ever let up.  Slowly her orgasm wound
down and she opened her thighs.  Sam's head plopped limp and unconscious
against the floor, his face bloodied at the nose and mouth.
      She straddled him imperiously and bent down over the spent male. 
Slapping him to revive him, she cooed, "Don't pass out on me yet, Sam. 
You still have one limb that's not broken.  And you still have a lot of
joints I could break.  How about seeing if you can use your good leg and
your bad one to keep me from breaking your ribs in a scissors hold?  You
could put your back into it as well.  Surely, I can't hurt you in a hold
like that.  And if not -- you get to leave.  You can crawl right out of
here.  " 
      Apel, from his voyeuristic perch, was stunned at how aroused he
was at the wanton display of female power and raw sex that he was
witnessing.  He could not feel sorry for the big bully; he suspected he
deserved what he was getting.  But Sally did not let up.  He was shocked
by the dark sides of her personality.  The same girl who seemed to be
almost tender with him had been vicious in subduing her (jealous?) horse
and now this.  Apel had known men who became drunk on battle lust, and
Sally seemed almost orgasmically intent on ripping the big man apart
until he was dead.  And he had heard enough of her comments about her
father to guess that this wouldn't be the first man she had crushed to
death.  Apel felt he had to intervene.  He spied his gun in a corner of
the room and, wrapping a towel around his dripping body, he went out to
confront the mighty virago.
      Sally had Sam in an accordion hold with her legs.  Sam's body was
bent in a V, resting on his big rear end, with his legs in the air as
one side of the V and his back nearly upright as the other side.  Sally
meanwhile was resting on her elbows and jutting derriere at right angles
to the wadded up man, using her powerful thighs to close the V to an I. 
Sam was furiously straining to prevent her from slamming him together. 
He only knew that if she succeeded, it would somehow mean more pain and
broken bones for him.
      "He's had enough, Sally.  Let him go before you kill him or
permanently cripple him.  You don't want that on your conscience," Apel
said quietly looking down on them.
      "I'm afraid you're too late, Sir Galahad.  He's crippled already,
but perhaps you're right," she said in a measured tone, looking up
calmly behind her at the gun in the trail boss's hand. The pointed look
on her face made him think about the reason he was holding a gun.  That
was the equalizer in this situation.  In a physical struggle or a battle
of wills, she would demolish him.  He was admitting as much.  He felt
foolish holding a gun on someone who wasn't threatening him, even more
so that it was a woman, in age still almost a girl.  But what a girl!  
He felt his crotch meat swell anew and relaxed his guard.  
      She struck so quickly that Apel was caught off guard.  He had been
standing behind her as she had Sam in a the scissors hold slowly
squeezing the two halves of Sam together with her awesomely swollen
thigh and calf muscles.  In a blur of movement, she pushed both Apel's
ankles away from her with mighty thrusts of each hand, so that Apel fell
forward right into her arms.  The gun flew out of his hand, landing well
out of his reach.  She cuddled the trail boss securely, speaking to him
softly in seductive tones, kissing his lips and neck.  Embarrassed to
have been controlled so easily, he struggled to break free, but she
hardly seemed to notice.
      "He's had enough when I say so.  You don't live in these parts;
you don't know this varmint like I do.  He's got the thickest skull in
creation.  This is the only way.  I won't kill him, though it'd be easy
and nobody'd miss him.  And he'll recover, but he'll never be the same
in either his head or his body.  I'm doing it because I CAN do it, and
if it gives me pleasure, well -- that's my business.  I answer to no
man," she whispered throatily.
      She kissed Apel deeply and, ripping away the tented towel over his
fully erect member, gently stroked him nearly to the point of release. 
"You've been enjoying this.  Don't deny it," she whispered sensuously.  
As she continued to draw all the air from his lungs with her powerful
kiss, panic mixed with arousal for him.  He desperately pushed at her
with all his ebbing strength, but, caught in her own arousal, she seemed
not to notice.  Moaning softly, she closed the V of Sam's body and
proceeded to splinter first the backs of his ribs and then amazingly the
fronts as her iron-hard leg muscles cut through Sam's fatigued muscles
like a knife through butter.  She tensed her muscles as delicious waves
of pleasure washed over her.  Two proud specimens of the male sex,
accustomed to having their orders obeyed without question, were so
overmatched physically by this virago that their struggles merely
stimulated her to greater heights of sexual bliss.  "Mmmm," she gasped,
releasing Apel's lips just as the overwhelmed trail boss had sunk into a
feverish swoon.  Swimming back to the surface of consciousness, he
shakily gulped in needed air.  She plied him with soft kisses over his
neck and bared chest.  Devilishly running her fingers over his turgid
member and sensitive testicles, she reduced him to a limpid, dizzy
puddle of male flesh, incapable of any brain activity other than urgent
sexual desire.
      "Get yourself another whiskey, Buck Apel, and wait for me.  I
won't be long, and you won't regret it.  I can please you in ways you
never dreamed."  He struggled for as much dignity as he could muster as
he retrieved the towel to cover his seeping, bobbing member, and walked
away.
      Stretching lasciviously, the mighty woman released Sam from the
vise of her legs.  He plopped limply on the floor like a big lump of
jelly.  "Well, Sam, you're just a puddle of flesh, now.  How about
giving me that spankin' you said I needed?  Oh, I guess not -- you can't
even raise your arms.  Even if I draped myself over you, you couldn't
support me.  But I could spank YOU, couldn't I?" she taunted ominously. 
"Your butt is the only thing I haven't abused yet.  I believe in giving
all parts of the body equal attention.  That's what I've done in working
my body and it seems to have paid off," she said in a mock innocent
tone, and examined her body in mock seriousness as she flexed all of her
muscles in an terrifying display of feminine physique and, at the same
time, an arousing display of frank pulchitrude.
      She pulled up a sturdy chair and draped Sam's limp form over one
magnificent thigh.  Sam's limp penis was squashed flat against the iron
muscles of her thigh as she tenderized and bruised his butt mercilessly. 
As she brutalized the big man, she eyed Apel in undisguised amusement
through the parted curtain as he sat uncomfortably trying to hide his
full-blown erection and looking around for the whiskey bottle.  But
tiring of Sam's piteous whining and the lack of challenge, she pushed
what remained of the former bully onto the floor.
      Laughing at the poor man's weak protests, she said reflectively,
"You're right.  This isn't fair.  Since you have only one limb that
isn't broken, you can't defend yourself.  Of course, that's because MY
limbs were so superior that they demolished yours, but, to even things
up a bit, how about a chest fight?  Your flat male slabs against my big
female bosom.  You probably think I'm too soft up there and you're too
hard.  Right?"
      She snickered as Sam instinctively tried to crawl away from her. 
She couldn't stop humiliating him, grinding him until nothing was left,
because at the back of her mind she remembered what a simpering bully he
had been, so cock sure of his invincibility -- now revealed to be so
utterly inferior to her, a woman he lusted after and sought to abuse
like he had everyone else.  But how inferior, how low could she bring
him?  It aroused her deliciously, intensely, almost unbearably, to think
of ever more ways to degrade him further.
      "But first, we must eliminate that last limb to do this properly." 
She kissed Sam delightedly as his eyes widened at the threat of more
pain.  "Is your leg stronger than my arm?"  She draped one leg across
his thighs on the gravel floor and gripped the ankle of his good leg
with one hand.  Though Sam squirmed frantically, she controlled it
easily, straightened it, and began to curl her arm upward.  Her biceps
popped out in awesome ridges of rock hard female muscles and with a loud
crack another knee was broken.
      She lifted the sobbing man against the wall and held him aloft as
she thrust her large breasts forcefully against his.   She put her hands
on her hips and spread her legs so that he was securely trapped in place
with just the power of her mighty chest.  With his mindless squirming,
he resembled a large bug mounted in a museum, the pins that held him in
place being her large but firm breasts riveted against his imploding
chest with her thick bullet-like nipples.  The sexual charge she derived
from demonstrating female superiority in this way stiffened her breasts
even further.  Indeed, it even surprised her that her big female breasts
and powerful underlying chest muscles could prove so superior.  The man
began to whimper from this new, completely unexpected source of pain. 
"Gee, Sam, not only am I much bigger up there but much stronger too." 
She began to take deep, powerful breaths that made the overmatched male
expel his lungs in a loud HUWHOOP sound.  As she expelled her breath
slowly and easily, smirking at the deep lines of pain etched on his
face, he managed to croak, "Please!  I can't breath.  You're suffocating
me!  My ribs hurt bad.  Please!"
      "More and more proof of the stronger sex, huh, Sam?  Suffocatin'
ya just by breathing in and out.  You are nothin'!"  She took a
prodigiously deep breath and was rewarded with another cracking sound,
this time from his chest.  His chest contracted in sobs of pain but no
sound emerged from his starved lungs.  Having wrested another
humiliating defeat from him, she let him slide ignominiously to the
floor.
      "Ya know, Sam, I believe I could beat you to death just with my
big hooters."  And she proceeded to pummel the long-since defeated and
openly sobbing male by twisting her torso fiercely from side to side. 
Her large breasts slammed into first one side and then the other of his
face.  They landed so hard that his head was rocketed against one
shoulder and then another.  He stiffened his neck and raised his head to
protest but immediately regretted it, as she landed a particularly
powerful blow, and his neck cracked from the impact.  After her return
blow rocked him to the other side, she realized that his head was now
wobbly and heeded his screeching cries.  "Oh, God, Sal, my neck.  You're
killing me!  I think it's broken," he cried piteously.  
      "Oh, you baby, I doubt that but you might be right.  Is there any
part of your body that is a match for me?  How about your pride and joy,
that dribbling cock of yours?  Could it stand up to a good squeezin'
inside my joy box?" 
      "Leave me alone, please," he sobbed abjectly, but she merely
laughed.
      Fatigued by having come twice, his cock could manage only a
rubbery but fully inflated erection as she kneaded it roughly and fed it
into her hot slit.  She gently and teasingly ran her hands over his body
and slowly brought herself up and down on his member.  The contorted
look of pain on his face melded with a vacant look of pleasure.
      "Is that as big as it gets?" she taunted in mock disappointment. 
"Well, no matter," she murmured enigmatically as she brought her lips
down toward his.  "Shall I stop, Sam, or are you enjoying yourself
finally?" she whispered as she continued her slow rhythmic pumping. 
"Shall I stop?" she repeated.
      "No," he gasped hopefully.  "Please don't stop.  It feels so
good!"
      "That's how it can be for someone I respect.  But I don't respect
you.  Sure you don't want me to stop?  Remember how much woman I am and
how little man you are.  If I go on, I'll surely pulverize your little
thing.  Crush it to a pulp with my love muscles.  Sure you want me to
continue?" she teased as his ragged breathing indicated he was near
explosion.

      Sweating with the exquisite pleasure that crowded out all else
from his mind -- the pain, his broken body, the humiliation of being so
utterly inferior -- he nearly screamed in abject lust, "Yes! Yes!"
      "Well, I warned you, but I guess you don't believe me.  Don't
believe how inferior the male organ is to the female one," she hissed
and grunted with effort as she concentrated her energy on contracting
the muscles of her mighty vagina.
      "Oh, God, stop!  Stop!" he screamed and tried to rise up.  "You're
gonna BUST it!  Please, stop."
      "Stop?" she taunted.  "Isn't this what you wanted?  To feed your
little thing inside me?  And now you find that you're not up to the task
of merely pleasuring me with it, because it's so puny and weak!"  She
twisted her hips as she contracted her vaginal muscles viciously on his
member.  Gathering her feet under the point of coitus she suddenly
flexed her legs awesomely and stood up, ripping the heavy man up solely
by the grip she had on his penis with her mighty vagina.  His head and
feet drooped toward the ground as his middle connected by his spongy
member in her powerful slit, was held aloft between her long legs. 
Blood seeped from ruptures in his once proud member caused by the vise-
like grip of her much stronger sex organ.
      Sam's loud screams echoed throughout the smithy.  Apel wanted not
to watch, now terrified at this crazy woman, but found himself even
closer to sexual explosion at this primal demonstration of the power of
the female.
      Sam screamed and lost his erection but she did not release him
from her love muscle.  His member stretched pitifully as she yanked him
up and then bounced him on the floor, her only grip on him being the
mighty clenching of his member with her snapping pussy.  "Gee, Sam, why
are men so proud of these puny things?  If this is the seat of your
power, no wonder men are so weak.  My sex organ can hold up that fat
body of yours with no problem but your organ doesn't seem to be able to
handle it."
      Having made her point, she released him and let him fall heavily
onto his back, his broken ribs sending intense waves of pain to match
that of his wounded groin.  He wanted to massage his ruptured penis but
couldn't lift his arms to reach it.  He sobbed in complete degradation.
      She regarded him triumphantly, utterly without sympathy.  After
letting him rest briefly on his back, she straddled him and devilishly
massaged him with the knowing touch of a woman that invariably arouses a
man.  His member, though purplish and seeping blood, began to swell. 
She giggled mischievously.  "Gee, Sam, that little guy don't know when
to quit.  Maybe he wants another ride," she teased, exulting in the
abject look of terror in the formerly arrogant bully.  
      "No! No, NO -- please," he gasped.
      She smiled impishly down at him.  "Your mouth says no, but your
little man says yes," she laughed.  She thrust his pliant member into
her sopping thatch and swallowed him up.  With her boundless female
vigor, she pounded him so viciously that his balls were smashed
completely flat.  Amid his high-pitched terror-laden screams she
contorted her face and clenched the muscles of her nether region so
tightly that his screams reached a feminine soprano pitch.  "You broke
it!" he screamed.  "You broke me, you --" but he caught himself before
uttering the epithet and sobbed in utter humiliation at the realization
that he was so terrified of her he dared not say it.
      "How does it feel to be raped, Sam?  Not much fun on the other
side of things is it?" she spat at him.  There was one more thing to do. 
She had been putting it off, waiting until death would be a relief to
him.  She wrapped her arm around his neck and pressed her bicep against
his throat.  "Answer, me, Sam, and tell the truth," she demanded.  "Were
you one of the men who attacked Betsy that night?"
      "What?  What do you mean?"
      "You know very well.  Answer me or I'll crush your throat and you
know I can." She flexed her bicep until he gurgled.
      "I wasn't there, Sal, I swear.  It was my cousins, not me. 
Believe me," he cried pleadingly, piteously, feebly.
      "I believe you.  It's the only thing she would tell me.  She was
afraid I'd get hurt avenging her I guess.  Well, your cousins are next
on my agenda.  Too bad you won't be able to warn them first.  How can
you live with yourself, running around with them, knowing they did that? 
You disgust me!"  She squeezed until he gurgled again.  "Just remember,
I could have killed you but I didn't."
      Disgusted that he still whimpered and screamed as she moved on top
of him, she muttered, "Oh shut up!"  Dropping her large, pliant cleavage
over his face, she smothered his cries with her bounteous breasts. 
Suddenly robbed of air, the utterly demolished male thought he was being
smothered to death and struggled feebly with his crushed body against
her.  Toying with him to the end, she giggled, "I thought you liked my
big breasts!  That's all I'm using to hold you down."  True enough, her
hands were on her hips and she was straddling him so as not to touch him
except with her cleavage and the magnificent globes that gripped his
face in a tight seal.  When she felt him stop struggling, she lifted her
lethal bosom off his unconscious but weakly breathing visage.
      She stretched her magnificent, nude, beautiful physique in triumph
and noted that Apel was frozen in an open-mouthed stupor on the other
side of the curtain.  Bending down in most feminine and arousing fashion
for Apel's benefit, she hefted the unconsciousness pile of flesh that
had once been a swaggering bully up onto her powerful shoulders and
easily carried him toward the door to her horse's stall.  She opened the
door and draped Sam's body over her horse.  "Dragon, I've got a job for
you."  After whispering in the horse's ear, she slapped him on the rear,
and the horse sauntered off slowly in the direction of the town doctor's
office.
      Apel had seen it all, mesmerized, half in lust, half in fear of
this virago.  As his wet body cooled and he began to shiver, his pride
forced him to a decision.  Quietly he dried himself and put on his
clothes.  He studied his options for escape, but saw only the front door
as an exit.  As she was busy loading the beaten pulp onto her horse, he
walked quickly toward the door, thinking that once outside he would be
the man he always was, in command of himself and secure in his world.
      It was difficult drawing the heavy bolts for the door, but even
after he had them drawn, he couldn't move the door.  He looked up to see
her leaning on the door and smiling at him.  "I prefer it this way,
Apel.  I prefer it that you will end up serving me and my needs against
your will.  You will not be able to help yourself.  It will not be rape,
because you will beg for it.  But it will be because in the beginning I
wish it, not you.  Yes, I prefer it this way; it excites me no end," she
ended in a whisper, kissing him deeply on the lips even as she captured
the rest of his body.  Controlling him with one hand, she undressed him
with the other.  Insinuating her naked, hot, moist body against his
naked body, she felt his resistance weakening and his prong poke into
her bush.  She laughed throatily, aroused by her imminent conquest and
the demands she would make of him.  She would break him like her horse
and he would beg.  Beg for release, wound up so tightly he could think
of nothing else, his pride strangled in the grip of her sexual power,
just as his muscles were now caving in to her vastly superior physique. 
Another male, another conquest.
______________________________________
      
      Back on the trail, Apel groaned in pain astride his trotting
horse.  Reaching for his tobacco, he felt something else and pulled out
a bent horseshoe.  He breathed shakily as he remembered the flexing of
her naked arms and torso as she had done it for him -- a souvenir.  It
was bent in the shape of the first letter of her name and not the way a
male blacksmith would do it, with heat and hammer -- just plain brute
strength on cold hard metal.  He gripped it and pulled at it as hard as
he could, to no avail.  It had been no simple feat, but he knew that
already.  He thought of her naked body and its perfection and its warmth
as she rode him mercilessly in her overstuffed feather bed.  His revery
was interrupted as his sore cock erected and pressed painfully against
the pommel of the saddle.  
      He sighed.  It took all his willpower not to go back and risk
another look, another ride with her, but he kept on going.  Let her be
the death of someone else she liked; let her toy with someone else.  He
had men to command.  The man among men was he.  He smiled ruefully. 
After being put in place by the lady blacksmith, being a man among men
didn't mean much anymore.  
      Oh, well, it could be worse.  He thought about his hungover cook
suffering on the bumpy trail as the wagon bounced heavily on its iron
wheels, one of them brighter than the others from its recent repair. 
Each bump would jar his aching head and make him swear to never drink
again, as it always did.  Apel smiled. 
      Or it could be much, much worse.  He stared off in the distance, a
troubled expression on his face.   He was thinking of Sam.  Then he
thought of the Roen boys, Sam's cousins, and shivered.  Why did it
bother him so much?  They were nothing to him, whereas Betsy had been
very special.  Still, there was a line beyond which even frontier
justice usually didn't stray.  He had answered the Sheriff's questions
about Sam in a way that was truthful but revealed nothing, and said
nothing at all about the cousins.  She had left him during the night
while he slept soundly, dead from exhaustion.  That much he knew.  He
was still miffed that she had given him no chance to intervene.  Betsy
had meant something to him, too.  When he awoke toward morning, he could
have tried to track her.  It would have been easy, considering the size
of her horse, but he knew it was too late.  He hung around town long
enough to see her return, completed his business amidst the excited
gossip that followed, and left.
      He rolled a cigarette, lit it, took a long puff, and kept his
horse headed away from the town he hated.  Each mile he put between them
made it easier not to go back.  At least he hoped so.  It had been
damned hard so far.  Why hadn't he stayed longer?  Why had he stayed at
all?  He stuffed the bent horseshoe deep into his saddle bag and kept
going.
      Back in town a beautiful woman with an extraordinary physique was
packing her most prized possessions into a large trunk.  Finally, she
could leave this town she hated.  Quite unexpectedly, in the space of 24
hours she had freed herself of a burden that she hadn't even realized
she was carrying.  She paused as she laid into the trunk two faded
photographs, one of her mother and the other of her now distant best
friend.  Her eyes misted as she gazed at her mother's long-suffering
face.  The daughter knew that her mother would not have approved of what
she had done to avenge them, but she didn't care.  She would never be
the victim her mother had been.  No, quite the reverse.  If a man
deserved it, she would dish it out -- and enjoy it.  That's the way it
should be and that's the way it would be in her world.