This is another one that was written on commission. Again, there is sex, violence, and muscle here - if extreme violence up to and including death isn't your thing, then really none of the Cameron stories are for you.
If my writing style appeals to you and you want a story written to your exact requirements, drop me a line; we can work it out.
If you like the following, I'd also appreciate your letting me know. Writers are all total whores for feedback, you know?
I can be reached here
She woke thinking it was going to be a good day.
She had that feeling, sometimes. It was something she had learned to trust. A sceptically-minded friend had once told her that she shouldn't - that when she woke up feeling like a particularly good day was ahead, that intuition had no connection to how the day was actually going to turn out. It was down to something called confirmation bias, he claimed; people had a natural tendency to remember when their little feelings and premonitions came true and forget about the equal number of times when they didn't. Cameron had nodded and smiled, and not believed a word of it.
She rose early, as usual - the gym opened at six on weekdays for the before-work crowd, but at weekends they didn't open until eight. Still, Cameron rose at five anyway. She did some gentle stretches and warm-up exercises before launching into her serious workout.
Her apartment was a gigantic room above her gym, divided into cooking, living, sleeping and exercise areas. She could and often did work out downstairs of course, but she also had a variety of exercise equipment up here for when she felt like having a more private session. When she was naked, for example. She enjoyed the feel of the cool air on her body sometimes, and she especially enjoyed the view of her body in the large mirrors against one wall. Some people had a trickle of narcissism in their personality; Cameron had a Mississippi River of narcissism.
And why not? Nobody had a body as good as hers. She watched the muscles flex and swell as she curled a 150 lb weight, smiling at the sight. She was truly perfect. A Muscle Goddess, a vision of feminine strength and power. Narcissism may be a character flaw in others who were not so perfect as she, but for Cameron it was just... giving herself her due.
She loved to exercise, of course - people spoke of how much 'work' it took to maintain a good muscular physique, but Cameron didn't think of it as work at all. Pumping iron, pushing her body to the extreme, becoming bigger, stronger, more muscular, this was the purest pleasure she knew. Of course, it took effort, and it could cause pain, but so what? She enjoyed the effort, and even the pain, both in and of themselves and for what they gave her.
She watched as her muscles pumped themselves up, the veins standing proud of the surface. Sweat began to appear as she lifted and strained. She took a moment to lean down and kiss a bead of it from the curve of her bicep. The slightly salty taste elicited a moan of pleasure.
She couldn't hold off any longer. One finger slipped between the puffy lips of her pussy, already wet and needy. Her thighs clenched as she fingered herself, the muscles proud and perfect. Cameron whimpered in delight as her fingertip found her clit, rubbing there, gently at first but with ever greater speed and pressure. She had to force herself to slow down, to wait, to prolong the exquisite pleasure.
Finally, she couldn't bear to hold back any longer. He motions sped up, her moaning becoming yells of pleasure as she reached a crescendo. Every muscle in her body clenched as the orgasm roared through her, an avalanche of feminine power and pleasure that left her trembling with the afterglow.
When she finally recovered, she padded through to the shower. Like the apartment in general, her shower was built at far above normal scale. It was easily big enough for her and several others - a fact that had led to some pleasurable times before now. She smiled with the memory as she washed the sweat from her body.
Twenty minutes later she headed downstairs, dressed and ready to face the day. There were a couple of ways out of Cameron's apartment. One led down to her office and through there to the gym, but it was a couple of hours before she would need to open up. So, she took the other door, which led to a small landing with a set of steps going down. They led to a steel security door that opened into the alleyway that ran along one side of the gym and round the back.
She stepped out into the morning sunshine. It seemed like there was another warm day ahead. Cameron enjoyed warm days; so much the better for wearing tight clothing cut low, or high, to show off her amazing body. Cameron had known some female bodybuilders who seemed shy about their physiques in public, covering them up with baggy, loose-fitting clothing. She didn't understand it at all.
It must be understood, though, that Cameron did not dress to show her body off because she sought to impress others. In fact, the idea of seeking the approval of others was foreign to her thinking. Wouldn't others be in awe of her anyway, no matter what? Rather, she dressed to show off because, well, physical perfection such as hers was a gift to the world. The world should see it.
She was thinking of heading down to the corner bakery to scare up some breakfast. She slipped her keys into her pocket and was about to head in that direction when she heard something. She stopped, startled both by the sound and the direction it was coming from. The sound, because it was very clearly a man's voice crying out in pain. The direction, because it was coming from behind her.
The alleyway ran down the side of her building, then turned and ran along the back. There wasn't a whole lot back there; a couple of small dumpsters, a largish accessway for deliveries and the like. Opposite her gym was another building, a shop of some sort. And at the far end was another wall, the back of a hairdressers. All three businesses had access out to the alleyway, but the spot she was standing in was the only way to the street. As far as the passing public were concerned, the alley was a dead end. No way through, not even on foot.
There shouldn't be anybody back there, she thought... and there certainly shouldn't be anybody back there in pain.
She heard another sound then, another voice. Different from the first, it was rougher, lower. More angry-sounding.
That clinched it. Cameron walked down the alley slowly, her black boots making no sound on the concrete surface. She wasn't hesitant because she was afraid of what she might find around the corner. Rather, she preferred that her arrival would be a surprise for him or them. She rather suspected that it wouldn't be a good surprise for whoever it was.
She rounded the corner. The sight that met her caused the look of alert calm on her face to vanish, replaced by a tight-lipped anger.
There were four men in the alleyway. One stood at the far end, his back practically pressed against the brick wall there as he faced out into the alley. The other three stood facing him, their backs to Cameron. They were spread apart a few feet, widely enough that they effectively blocked the entire alleyway; this, Cameron sensed instantly, was their intent.
They were pretty large guys, those three, six feet tall or thereabouts - which still made them several inches shorter than Cameron herself, who stood 6'3" in bare feet. They were fairly well built, too. Not bodybuilders or anything, if she was to judge, but big enough to be fairly intimidating characters to most.
If the first thing she noticed about them was their size, the second was their clothing. Two wore sweatshirts, the other a T-shirt. Mr Red Sweatshirt had on a pair of blue jeans. As did Mr Green Sweatshirt. Mr Grey T-shirt, on the other hand, had gone for brown cargo pants. All of the clothing looked rather shabby. The colours were long faded, the material decorated with worn patches, frayed hemlines, even a tear or two. Some people wore 'distressed' clothing, Cameron knew, fashionably damaged. These didn't look like that, somehow. These looked like clothing that had been worn long past the point at which it should be thrown away, by men who didn't really give a whole lot of thought to how they looked.
Given the relative normalcy of their height and clothing, it was perhaps surprising that the third thing Cameron noticed about them was that two of them were holding baseball bats, and the third was holding a large knife.
The fourth man was somewhat different to the others. He was smaller, no more than 5'8" by Cameron's well-practiced estimate. Where the other three were on the big side for their height, the fourth fellow was decidedly ectomorphic. He was also rather attractive, she saw. Cameron had always been rather attracted to slim, short men. She loved the contrast between their bodies and her big muscular one. And it was so easy to handle them, to overwhelm and subdue them and show them who was in charge. The thought was a delicious one, and Cameron felt a slight tingle in her groin.
Unlike the others, he was dressed in an expensive-looking suit. And unlike the others, he held no weapon. He also had the beginnings of a major bruise on his cheek. One hand was clutched to his right side, and he seemed to be favouring his left leg pretty heavily.
Cameron saw red. If there was one thing she hated, truly fundamentally hated, it was a bully. Any one of these thugs taking on this little guy would have been an absurd mismatch. Three of them taking him on at once was an order of magnitude worse. All three of them using weapons when their victim had none... that was so far beyond the pale that she was filled with rage.
The fact that Cameron herself loved to use her strength to dominate and control others, whether they liked it or not, did not strike her as the least bit hypocritical. She was Cameron; as in all areas of life, as far as she was concerned the ordinary rules and laws that governed the behaviour of others simply didn't apply to her.
The two guys with bats stepped forward. The one in the grey T-Shirt swung his, hard and fast. The little guy tried to dodge, but it was useless. The bat crashed home just below his ear, and he screamed in pain. The green sweatshirt guy jabbed his bat into the guy's stomach a moment later, and he let out a big oof and collapsed to the floor.
She advanced on the centre of the three guys. Mentally she labelled them by the colours of their clothing - Mr Red, Green and Grey. She supposed she should call their victim Suit, she mused. Red was the one with the knife, what looked like one of those big Bowie knives. The thing was practically a short sword.
"Excuse me," she said quietly.
All three of the thugs spun around, surprised by the sound of her voice. She saw the little guy's eyes go to her and widen suddenly. "Who the fuck are you," Red demanded. "No, never mind who you are. I'll be generous, lady, and give you one chance to fuck off."
So, he was the leader, then, she noted. No surprise there.
"I'm Cameron," she said. "The alleyway you're standing in belongs to me." Which was true, actually. The other two businesses had right of access through here, but in fact the entire alleyway was within the property boundary of her gym. As such, even if she hadn't welcomed the chance to dish out a little justice to a set of thugs, she felt more than a little pissed off that this whatever-it-was, was happening on her turf. "Since you've been so refreshingly direct to me, I'll be equally direct to you," she went on. "Get the fuck off my property, or I'll hospitalise all three of you." She added the last purely out of a sense of fairness; in truth she had no intention of allowing any of the three out of here intact.
Red laughed. Cameron liked laughter; light, fun, pleasurable laughter. This wasn't that. It was a short, ugly bark of a noise. "What the fuck you talking about, bitch," he said angrily. The other two stayed back, Cameron noticed. Grey had a sadistic little smile on his face. Green, though, looked more uncertain. He seemed to have a little more about him than his friends, a trace of intelligence in his eyes. He was looking at her, really looking, in a way that his friends were not. His eyes were taking in the fact that she was a good three inches taller than any of them. That she was broad in the shoulders and waist, broader than any of them, with big, thickly muscled shoulders. She could practically see his eyes tracking over her body... the biceps, triceps, all bulging with obvious power. Her white T-Shirt was thin, tight, and short. It showed her torso off to perfection, so broad and obviously powerful at the shoulders, sloping inward in a V shape to her waist. The short hem of the T-Shirt, only a few inches below the bottom of her breasts, displayed the thick ridges of her abdomen. Below, the cut-off jeans she wore displayed most of her thighs just as brazenly. They were huge, so thickly muscled that Cameron often thought that if she didn't have such broad hips, she'd have trouble walking.
Almost more impressive than the sheer massive size of her musculature was the astonishing definition. Cameron had a rather impressive pair of large, rounded breasts which stood firm and proud on her chest, held up by solid slabs of muscle beneath. Beyond that, however, it looked like she had barely an ounce of fat on her entire body. She was incredibly shredded, to a point you rarely saw outside of illustrations in 'perfect body' pictures in muscle magazines.
She could see Green taking this visage in. He wasn't quite bright enough to realise just how much trouble he and his friends were in, she decided, not really. Very few men could really accept that idea that a woman, of all things, was a clear and present danger to their physical selves. After all, men were stronger than women. Everyone knew that. But Green was smart and self-aware enough to understand that they weren't facing some little girl here.
"Hey boss," he said, and she could hear the confusion in his voice. "Want some help here?"
"Fuck no, what are you talking about? She's just some girl," Red said.
"Look at her, man, she's huge," Green said. Red and Grey both just snickered.
Red stepped forward. "Fuck that," he said. "Gonna cut the bitch, teach her some respect." It was the last thing he said for a while.
People were often so in awe of Cameron's strength that they forgot just how quick she could be. She stepped forward fast, one hand lashing out to take hold of the wrist holding that big macho knife. The movement was so quick that Red hardly knew it was happening until it had happened; one moment he was standing there, threatening this stupid woman who stood there as if she owned the place; it hadn't really sunk in with him that she did, in every possible sense; an instant later she was in his face, and it felt like somebody had clamped a heavy-duty vice on his wrist and tightened it too tight for comfort, then tightened it a couple of turns more.
He started to move backwards, but it was already too late for him. Cameron threw a punch into his stomach. That punch started somewhere down around her calves; her incredible body squatted just a little and then straightened explosively, tilting back just enough to let her throw her full weight and strength into the punch. Her fist slammed into his midsection like the hammer of god, sinking in seemingly about three quarters of the way to his spine. The blow literally lifted his entire body off the ground by almost a foot, sending him reeling backwards - except that he couldn't move more than a step or two, with his knife hand still clamped securely in her unbreakable grip.
The solid, astonishingly loud thud of that punch hitting home seemed to roll through the alley for just a moment before it was joined by the sound of every bit of breath whooshing out of his body in a single explosive WHUFF! And then Red slowly collapsed to his knees. Cameron plucked the huge knife from his grasp and released his wrist, stepping back as he began to throw up on the floor.
In for a penny... she launched a savage kick into his ribs. Cameron's boots weren't typical female attire; she liked sexy feminine boots on occasion, but she also liked the chunky solidity of men's boots. These were the kind that people wore whilst doing physical labour. They were black, leather, heavy, and strongly built. Which made them extremely good for kicking.
She felt his ribs crunch as the heavy boot slammed into him, powered by her titanic thigh and calf muscles. Hell, she heard his ribs crunch. Somehow, between the agony in his abdomen and the heaving up of his breakfast, Red managed to emit a strangled scream. Cameron grinned and raised her other boot for a moment before slamming it down on his hand, which was splayed out nicely as he supported his weight. She felt another crunch as the bones of his hand shattered under the incredible force of her boot stamping down on it.
She stepped back, looking up at his friends. "That's one," she said. "So now you know enough to be scared. Maybe you want to run, even?" She could see in Green's eyes that he did. Grey, however, just looked confused and angry. So that was where the attack would come from. "Well here's the thing, boys," she continued. "It's too late to run. I won't let you run. You're due a beating, and you're going to get one."
Green's eyes went to the huge knife that she now held. She chuckled. "Oh no, it's not going to be that way," she said. "I don't need weapons, you see."
She gripped the handle of the knife and wrapped her other hand around the blade, careful to stay away from the sharp edge. She strained hard, grunting with the effort. The muscles of her forearm stood out, swelling visibly as she strained against the steel.
It was, ultimately, an unequal contest. Slowly the knife bent. Cameron continued to pour on the pressure, slowly bending the weapon until it was literally U-shaped. Then she casually tossed it aside. It clattered across the concrete and fetched up against the wall.
"There," she said. "You can keep your bats, though."
Grey had had enough. He tightened his grip on the baseball bat and advanced, a look of pure murder on his face. He fully intended to beat her to death. That was okay by Cameron, she intended to come pretty close to doing the same thing to him.
He swung the bat savagely. He was fast, she had to admit, almost as fast as she was. She dodged back, making him miss - but just barely. Encouraged, he swung again. This time she surprised him by stepping into the blow. The bat thudded into her shoulder. Grey was a big guy, not especially fit, but obviously naturally strong. The swing had a lot of that strength and weight behind it, and it hit hard on Cameron's shoulder. She knew it would hurt, and it did. She was also pretty confident that it wouldn't do much damage... and it didn't.
Her other hand lashed out, a perfect knuckle punch. It didn't have anything like the raw strength and weight behind it that that punch which had dropped Red had... but it was perfectly targeted on Grey's throat. Her knuckles sank into his trachea, and the blow sent him reeling backwards, the bat dropping from his hand as he pawed at his neck, desperately trying to breathe through a throat that was suddenly in a world of hurt.
Green decided that this had all been a serious mistake. He broke and tried to run. Cameron took two quick steps and stuck a foot out, catching his legs perfectly and sending him sprawling. She pounced on his back in an instant, pinning him down. She had no need to worry about the other two now, not for a while anyway - Red was in his own little world of hurt, and Grey was busily trying not to suffocate to death right now.
"Awww, honey, no running. Far too late for that," she said. Green tried to throw her off his back, but she was just too big, too heavy, and he had no leverage. She grabbed his right arm and twisted it behind his back, wrapping one fist around his wrist and another around his elbow. She rotated his arm until the tension was just right and then began to raise it. Green began to emit high-pitched shrieks of pain as the tendons in his shoulder tightened. Cameron smiled. "You come onto my property," she said as she forced his arm up another couple of inches. "You bully a guy half your size, three on one. With weapons, no less." She raised his arm another few inches. It took a surprising amount of strength, but strength was something Cameron had to spare. "And then you back up a guy who calls me a very unpleasant name. For that, you're going to suffer damage. Lasting damage."
"I'm sorry!" He gasped out suddenly, managing to get the words out through the pain. "Please! Don't! I'm sorry! SORRY!"
"No, you're not," Cameron said flatly. "You're not sorry for what you did. You're just scared that you've been caught and that there are going to be consequences. Well it's good that you're scared, but it doesn't actually make any difference to what's going to happen."
She shoved his arm up as hard as she could. In his shoulder tendons and ligaments tore apart under her tremendous strength. She felt the shoulder give way, and suddenly it was a whole lot easier to move it around to places that it really shouldn't be. Cameron laughed. "Now for a little extra damage," she said. She released his elbow and raised her fist, driving it down into his shoulder with a solid thud. He whimpered as she punched again... again... again... she was relentless, smashing her fist into his shoulder with all of her strength. She might have broken a bone or two in there, she wasn't sure.
"Bones heal when you break them, you know," she said as she finally released his arm. It flopped to the ground at an odd angle. "But tendons? Ligaments? Well, if you were a star athlete with access to the highest level of care possible, then maybe. I kind of doubt that your medical insurance goes that far... if you have medical insurance. Of course, losing much of the use of one arm is pretty bad. Losing both..."
She gripped his other arm. He fought furiously, terrified by the casual brutality of her words almost as much as her actions. But his position was no better than before, and his loose arm wouldn't behave itself at all. There was literally nothing he could do to stop Cameron from repeating the process on his other arm. After that, he could do nothing but lie there and moan in pain.
She stood and crossed over to Grey. He wasn't dead, not quite. He was lying on his back, staring up at the sky with panicked eyes, making gurgling noises as he struggled to breathe. A large purple bruise covered about half his neck, shading to black in the centre. Pretty colours, she thought.
She reached down and grabbed his foot, lifting his leg up as she straightened. "Now, your friend over there is suffering pretty badly. He's lost the use of his arms, at least for now. Arms are really important," she added with a smile. "But then, legs are pretty important too." And with that, she raised her boot and stamped down with all her strength, her huge thigh driving her foot directly into his knee. She felt the bones crunch as the entire joint literally bent backwards. Grey tried to scream but given the state of his throat, he just couldn't.
"This is probably repairable, somewhat," she said. "I bet you've lost a few seconds off your time for the hundred, though!" She giggled. "In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if you're going to spend the rest of your life walking with a cane. Oh... wait... did I say cane?"
She bent down and took his other leg, raised it, and looked into his eyes as she lifted her foot. Slowly, so slowly, letting him see exactly what she was doing. She relished the look of terror and panic in his eyes. She was willing to bet that it was a look he had seen in the eyes of other people often enough.
She brought the boot down. CRUNCH. Another leg bent backwards. Grey managed to emit a low keening noise.
"My mistake, I meant a pair of canes," she said brightly.
She kneeled down, straddling his chest, looking into his panicked, agonised eyes. "I bet you think you're a big, bad man," she said softly. "I bet you think you're tough as anything. Ganging up on a little guy, three on one. Needing weapons to hurt people. You want to know what real tough is, Mr Macho? Real tough is taking on three to one odds, not hiding behind them. Real tough is going up against weapons when all you have is your own strength and speed... and not only winning, but making it look easy. That's what I did to you, Mr Macho. You dare to call me a bitch? Me? I made all three of you my bitches inside of sixty seconds. And you're never going to forget it, for the rest of your life."
She rose and turned to Red. He was still on his hands and knees. One hand clutched at his side. The other hand was still on the floor. It was rapidly turning purple.
She bent down and lifted him bodily. He groaned as she clutched him to her chest, her thick arms wrapping around him. She began to apply pressure, and he whimpered in pain as his broken ribs ground against one another.
"Boys, I'm going to be leaving you in a moment," Cameron announced. It was directed at Red, but loud enough for all of them to hear. "I guess you may be thinking that you'll go to the cops and report all this. I think that would be a mistake, on a couple of fronts. For one... I don't know what business you were into with our little friend there," she gestured towards their former victim, "but I'm willing to bet that you wouldn't want the cops in on it. For another... you're on my property. I asked you to leave. And then we fought, three-on-one. You had weapons. I had nothing but my own body. This is a stand-your-ground state, which means I'd have been well within my rights to shoot you all dead for being here and attacking me when I asked you to leave. So, I really doubt that you would have much of a case against me. All I did was defend myself on my own property. I was a little forceful about it, sure, but if you think a jury is going to be sympathetic to you, you're dreaming.
"Then there's this. Suppose you did call the cops. Suppose they charged me. Suppose a jury convicted me. Suppose I even did a few years in prison. One day, I'd get out. And then I'd come for you. And if you think what I've done today hurts, you won't believe what I'll do to you then." She squeezed harder, and Red moaned in agony as she crushed his body. She wanted him to remember this, wanted him to wake up nights for the rest of his life dreaming of the muscular power that had almost crushed the life out of him. "I'll smash your bodies into jelly. I'll shatter every single bone, tear every tendon, beat every inch of you black and blue. And I'll take months to do it. Maybe years. So, my advice? No cops. Just... go about your life, as best you can. And remember the lesson here; you never, ever fuck with me. Not ever."
Cameron squeezed hard, and Red coughed up blood. It dribbled down his chin and dripped onto her breasts. "Hmm," she said, smiling. "I'm going to take a piece of you away with me. How poetic."
Cameron examined Red for a long moment, then dropped him. He collapsed into an untidy pile at her feet. She stepped back, then launched a solid kick into his temple. He went out like a light, instantly unconscious. Cameron stepped to the side, getting a perfect angle, then launched another kick into the same spot. She wasn't sure, but she thought he felt his skull fracture. She kicked him again, this time in the back of the head. "Concussion is such a terrible thing," she murmured to herself. Another kick. Another. Inside his head the brain would be bouncing against his skull, over and over and over again.
Most people had very odd ideas about concussion, Cameron knew. Largely because of Hollywood, where a person could be struck over the head, fall unconscious, and then wake minutes or even hours later with nothing but a headache. Reality was less pleasant. Concussions always caused permanent brain damage, to one extent or another. They could cause instant death.
She didn't really want Red to die, though she wouldn't be especially bothered if he did. Cameron had never killed anybody, but the idea of killing people didn't cause her a moment's pause. She actually found the idea quite enticing sometimes - she'd masturbated more than once to the idea of crushing some offensive male to death with her superbly muscled body. And some men certainly deserved killing.
But what she was after here was something a little short of that. She launched a final kick and was sure she felt the bones give this time. Red would probably lose a few IQ points, she thought. Maybe more than a few. Perhaps there would be memory or cognition issues. He'd probably be rather prone to headaches from now on... probably be prone to further concussions, too. In short, all kinds of interesting symptoms.
"That's enough for today," she said finally. She surveyed the damage she had wrought; it had probably been less than five minutes ago that three thugs threatened her. So big, so confident, so convinced of their own power. Well look at them now, she mused. Not so tough.
She walked over to the little guy, who was still staring, glassy-eyed with shock and obviously in pain. She bent down and scooped him up into her arms; he clung to her. "I'll leave you to make your own way to the hospital," she said merrily. "Bye now!"
She walked passed the three pieces of human detritus littering her alleyway and around the corner. Twenty yards on and she came to her front door, a blank steel sheet with a shiny lock. She fished her keys out of her pocket, which meant releasing one arm from the little guy; he clung to her, obviously half terrified and half awed at his rescuer. She smiled reassuringly. It was quite endearing, she thought, and he really was a cutie.
She unlocked the door and carried him upstairs.
"Okay, first things first, honey," she said as she walked over to the secluded corner which hid her bed. "I need to check you over. Don't worry, I'm pretty well qualified in first aid - I have to have basic training in it, for my job, and I took a bunch of extra courses and read up a lot about it, too. So, I'm going to check you out and see what's what. To begin with, can you talk to me?" She knelt in front of him, bringing their heads to a closer level. "I know you've had a kind of shocking morning so far, honey, but I need to see if you can focus and communicate. Can you tell me your name?"
"Yeah," he said. His voice was quite soft and pleasant. "It's Ethan."
"That's a nice name," she said with a smile. "I'm Cameron. And can you tell me the day of the week, Ethan?"
"It's Saturday," he said.
"Excellent. How many fingers am I holding up?"
"Three."
"Good. Now Follow my finger with your eyes, keeping your head still." She moved her finger around a few times. "That's great. How do you feel, Ethan? Any headache? Dizziness? Feel sick or like you want to vomit?"
"Uh, my stomach hurts where that guy... you know, with the bat?"
She nodded. "That's to be expected. So, what was all that about, anyway?"
"Uh," he said, hesitating. "I got into a poker game. Stupid, really, I heard there was a decent game running in a place a few blocks from here. I thought it would be a classier place than it was, but I got into the game anyway. Wound up owing them a chunk of money... I think they were cheating. Pretty sure of it, actually."
"And then?" She asked. She wasn't really all that interested, honestly, but she wanted to see how clear-headed he was.
He shrugged. "I owed them more than I had. Offered to take them to the bank, there's one a block over. We were on our way, but then I realised it would be closed until eight or nine. I tried to explain that to them, I really did - I don't duck out on debts, never have. But they thought I was trying to screw them. I managed to get out of their truck and run for it, but they chased me down. I ran into your alley, hoping there was a way through, and, well, you know the rest of it. They said they were going to... to kill me," he finished, his voice going shaky with the memory.
"Yeah. Okay, I don't think we're looking at any concussion here. That's excellent news. Now, I need to check your body over for lacerations, bruises, etc. And I'm going to need you to be undressed for this, honey."
"Um, what?" He said uncertainly.
Cameron began to strip him. He offered a little resistance, but he wasn't going to be able to prevent her from doing anything she wanted to him. She chuckled as she wrestled him down onto the bed and slowly removed his clothing, one piece at a time. "Oh honey, there's no point in struggling like that," she chided affectionately. "Your skinny little body isn't going to be able to resist the power of my muscles, now is it?"
"Please," he whimpered. He didn't sound afraid, not really - just kind of embarrassed and shy. Cameron found herself getting wet as she stripped him.
"Quite a few bruises here," she said as she removed his shirt. "No lacerations, fortunately. Hold still whilst I check for broken bones." She probed his chest and arms. "Hmm, such delicate skin," she said. "And such a soft, slim body. I like men who are soft and pretty. They're fun to play with." She removed his pants, checking his legs over. More of the same - a few bruises, nothing terribly serious. He'd been lucky; had she come along a minute or two later, she had no doubt it would have been a different story.
"Now let's see what you're hiding under here," she said as she stripped his underwear off. He tried to resist, but there was really nothing he could do to stop her.
Cameron was a devoted size queen. The way she saw it, it was all very well having a man who had a lovely soft pliable body and a pretty face, or even a big alpha macho type who could almost compete with her physically - but what was the point of any of that, really, if at the end of the day he didn't have a lovely thick nine-inch dick that he could use to pleasure her? Males who didn't have superior equipment between their legs were basically a waste of skin as far as she was concerned.
So, it was with some degree of hesitation that she pulled his underwear down. Hmmm... a good size there, she thought, not too bad at all considering he wasn't hard yet - though he was obviously on his way, she noted with amusement. Seemed like he rather liked being overpowered by a muscular Goddess! Well of course he did. Who wouldn't?
She straddled his thighs, smiling down at him. "Hmmm, this looks like it's happy to be free," she said. "And pleased to see me, too! Do you think I'm beautiful, Ethan?"
"You are," he said. That soft voice, so deferential. It sent shivers through her.
She struck a double bicep pose, flexing for him. "And these... you like these, don't you?"
"Oh God," he whispered. "You're amazing. And what you did to those men!"
"Hmmm, yes," she said with a smile. "I destroyed them. Trust me, none of them will be bothering you again. They're crippled for life, all of them. I don't like bullies, Ethan, and I don't like big men who pick on soft little beta boys like you. Soft little beta boys like you are there for big strong women like me to coddle and protect with our big muscles... don't you think?"
He blushed a deep red but said nothing. She noticed, however, that his cock was rising rapidly to full size and hardness - and a very impressive size it was! She was pleased.
"Hmmm, you like that, don't you Ethan?" She said. "How big and strong I am. How I can use my big muscles to protect you and keep you safe."
"I do... you're amazing," he murmured. She moved back a little and pulled him up so he was sitting upright, close to her.
"Kiss them," she whispered. "Kiss my biceps, Ethan."
And he did. She'd expected him to be shy about it, and he was a little, but he was surprisingly eager. His lips touched the hard muscle of her right bicep, kissing softly. He planted a series of small, reverent kisses along the curve of her bulging muscle, tracing the contour of it.
"You may lick," she said. His lips parted and his tongue grazed the skin, tasting her. He whimpered very slightly as his tongue found a vein on the surface and began to trace the outline of it. "Hmmm, that's it, Ethan," she said softly. "Worship me... worship the woman who saved you. You know what they say about saving a person's life, don't you Ethan?"
He made a slight noise that could be interpreted as interrogative, obviously not wanting to stop kissing and licking her arm. She smiled. So cute. "They say if you save a person's life, that person belongs to you from then on," she said. The saying wasn't quite that, she thought, but it was close enough.
"The other arm now, Ethan," she murmured. There was no great force of command behind the words but he obeyed instantly, craning his head to her other arm and kissing the muscles that had saved his life so recently. Cameron purred with pleasure.
"Now the legs," she said presently. She rolled off of him. "Take my shorts off, boy."
He obeyed, struggling with the tight shorts for a moment before he managed to get them undone. She arched her back, lifting up so that he could slide them down, revealing the naked skin beneath. "Worship the muscles," she said. "Start at the calves. Show me how much you revere the power of my body."
He whimpered in pleasure as he bent to his task, kissing every inch of her. His fingers joined his mouth, stroking her gently. It wasn't a massage, there wasn't enough force behind it for that. He was stroking her, softly, slowly, just thrilling at the contact, the feel of her hard curves under his fingertips.
Eventually she spread her legs. Her pussy was deliciously wet and tingly. "Tongue," she ordered. He moved to obey, taking a long moment to look at her, admiring the stunning perfection of this Goddess, the strength of her body, the stunning beauty of her face. Then he bent to the beautiful pink folds of her pussy, leaning in to plant a respectful, worshipful kiss on her lips. He could feel the heat there, the wetness, and it delighted him.
He nuzzled his face into her pussy, licking the lips, tasting them, delighting in how turned on she obviously already was. Slowly, so gently, he slid his tongue between the lips, running it along the length of her lovely pussy, filling his mouth with her divine taste as he worshipped her. Cameron felt her breathing quicken, a familiar throbbing beginning in and around Her clit. Sensing her need, Ethan sought the little nub out, worming his tongue in against it, feeling the pliant firmness.
"Hmmmm," she moaned, "yes, just like that..." her thighs closed on his head, pressing him against her with considerable force. Not enough to hurt him, just enough to make sure that he fully understood that he was there for as long as she desired.
Ethan thrilled to the feel of her muscles against his head. He was perfectly aware that Cameron was far, far stronger than he was, and her thighs were the most muscular part of her. She could easily crush him, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was completely helpless, completely at her mercy, and that thought filled him with ecstasy as he pleasured her most intimate of places, caressing her clit fully with his tongue.
"Oh yesssss," she hissed. His hands went to her thighs as he licked her, and for a moment she thought he was trying to pull her off, pointless as that would be. But no... he was stroking her, the feel of her muscles under his hands... and even pressing on them a little, as if urging her to squeeze him harder.
She did. Still not hard enough to hurt, not really, but crushing his face into her pussy, pressing herself against him with a force he could never hope to resist... which he didn't want to resist. He tongued her clit faster, harder now, feeling her pussy juices coating his face, anointing him as her true worshipper as he rolled her clit between his lips softly. Cameron bucked hard, screaming as a thunderous orgasm went through her, her body tightening. Ethan thrashed a little as her huge thighs closed hard on his head, but somehow she managed to keep her awesome strength in check as wave after wave of orgasm ripped through her.
Finally, it passed. She opened her thighs, releasing him. She was breathing hard, her body trembling very slightly as the afterglow spread through her. "Hmmm, that was delicious, my sweet Ethan," she murmured. He crawled up beside her, planting soft little worshipful kisses on the muscles of her abdomen. His face was rather reddened and she giggled at the sight. Her thighs had obviously squeezed him rather harder than she'd intended! Cameron did tend to be very physical in her orgasms.
She lay there for a while, just relaxing and bathing in the afterglow as Ethan worshipped her. Eventually she sat up a little and stripped her top off, bearing her beautiful breasts. Ethan's eyes went as big as saucers as he took them in. She lay back, saying nothing, communicating her desire through her look. He understood her completely, and a moment later was gently worshipping her nipple with his tongue. Cameron sighed with pleasure, one hand caressing the back of his head possessively. This one was a keeper, she decided. She liked him, he was soft, obedient, and he worshipped her so divinely. Plus, he had one hell of a cock. He was perfect!
Speaking of cock... she sat up, pushing him gently off her. "Time to fuck," she said with a smile. He was still rock hard, she was pleased to see. She liked staying power in a man. She pushed him down on his back and straddled him, easing herself down onto him slowly, moaning as the big head of his cock parted her swollen pussy lips and slid inside.
Inch after delicious inch she took him in, feeling the thick shaft stretching her as few before him ever had. She took every bit of him, right down until her hips were hard against his. "Put your hands on me," she ordered. He didn't need telling twice. She began to move up and down on him as his hands stroked her. Most men would have caressed her beautiful breasts, but not Ethan. Ethan stroked her shoulders, her arms, her abdomen... delighting in the feel of her muscles, of the hardness there, the overwhelming potential for strength. It excited him in a way nothing else could match. His hips began to buck in time to her motion, driving his cock into her as she came down on it, so that their bodies slammed together with an audible slapping noise. Cameron leaned forward as she fucked him, allowing him better access to touch her, to worship her body.
"Oh Goddess..." he whispered, overwhelmed with the sensations. Her pussy seemed as strong as any part of her, gripping him with a force that was actually painful. Yet somehow the pain was turned into pleasure as she hammered down on him, again and again. Combined with the feel of her tremendous body under his hands, his eyes, it was sex like nothing he had ever felt before. He sensed that she was claiming him, that she was making him hers. Shy as he had been just a few minutes ago, that didn't matter now. The thought of belonging to this amazing woman, of being owned by her, being hers to command and to use... nothing in his life compared to it. His surrender to her was total and absolute, and it was joyous.
"Oh fuuuuuuck..." she whimpered. She rolled over as the orgasm approached, her thighs closing around his soft little body, pulling him hard against her, driving his cock as deep as it would go. Her big, strong, muscular arms went around him. "Cum for me, Ethan!" She screamed. The words drove him over the edge, and he did. She could feel his cock literally throbbing inside her as he pumped a huge load into her.
The feeling was all she needed; she screamed in pleasure as a massive orgasm swept through her. If the previous one had been good, this was positively titanic; she had never felt anything like it. Every muscle in her body seemed to explode with strength, one almighty spasm that seemed to go on and on and on. She was vaguely, very vaguely, aware of Ethan's body against hers, jerking and thrashing as his own orgasm ripped through him, but it was barely noticeable, a flyspeck compared to the power coursing through herself. The orgasms seemed to go on and on, she couldn't even count how many - ten, a dozen, more. It was the most incredible sexual experience of her life, and she never wanted it to end.
But end it did, eventually. Her muscles slowly began to relax, trembling with the exertion. She breathed hard, her eyes still closed, slowly regaining her composure. "Hmmm, that was wonderful," she said, opening her arms.
Ethan collapsed backwards onto the bed, a doll with all his strings cut.
She stared at him, instantly knowing what had happened. Oh shit, she thought. She'd crushed him against her... crushed his chest under her arms, his hips between her thighs... the intensity of the orgasms had made her forget to control herself, and she had...
She touched his chest. No movement. She could feel the broken ribs under his skin, jagged. She'd really done it, she had crushed the life out of him.
She slapped his face a few times, just to make sure, but it was pointless. He was stone dead, and there was not a thing to be done about it. Cameron swore viciously as she got up. Dammit! She'd found a man who was perfect for her, and now she'd gone and broken him! Fuck!
Still, she mused, forcing herself to calm down a little, it had been an incredible orgasm. Seriously, just letting go like that, the freedom of it, the wild abandon... wow. If a man had to die so that she could feel that... well, it wasn't something she was happy about, but it also wasn't the worst thing in the world. After all, there was no shortage of men out there.
"Plenty more fish in the sea," she murmured.
She glanced at the clock. An hour until she had to go open the gym. She'd have to do something with the body, of course. It wasn't that long a drive to get out of the city, she supposed she could just go bury him somewhere. The idea of the police getting involved didn't worry her at all. After all, there was nothing to connect him to her. Nothing but the three morons she'd pulled off of him, and she doubted they would be running to the cops.
She nodded. No problems, really.
She smiled slowly, remembering how amazing her orgasms had been.
She'd been right. It really was shaping up to be a good day.
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