The following is a work of fiction - of course! It contains graphic and perverse acts of sex, domination, and general weirdness! I totally understand if that is not your thing; simply move on to something that's more to your taste.
It should go without saying that this work is meant for adults only, and that if the above is not your thing then you shouldn't be reading it.
The character of Angela Mao is very loosely based on a real Martial Arts actress. No offence is intended to her.
This story was written as a paid commission; very little of the plot characters, and tone are down to me. Only the words! The buyer gracefully granted permission for publication, and for this I thank him greatly.
Feedback of this story would be very much welcomed, even if critical. If you wish to contact me for that, or if you are thinking of commissioning a story yourself and like my writing style, I can be reached at : adeaderend@hotmail.com
Happy reading!
Feng's days had somewhat broken from their usual pattern in the months since he had come to his arrangement with Angela Mao. Previously, he had spent long hours at work. His furtive masturbation sessions had been occasional things, something he enjoyed before lunch, or to celebrate some great achievement.
Now, though, it seemed as if he did more masturbating than work. He would hurry into his office in the mornings and go straight to his big television. He completely ignored all of his other fighters, the countless dozens of movies he had paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to produce over the years. Instead, he inevitably found himself pulling out one of Angela's movies. Then he would spend what seemed like hours stroking himself as he watched her demolish man after man. His cock was so red-raw, he thought it might actually start bleeding at some point.
He couldn't help himself, though. He was an addict, and he knew it. He literally couldn't get enough of Mao. Something had to be done about it, he realised. He reached for the telephone and dialled a number. Within seconds, he was through to the production office of his little covert movie studio.
"Ah," said Chen Leung, his principle producer, "I have been meaning to contact you, Mr Feng. We are having considerable production difficulties here!"
"What?" Feng sat up, disconcerted. "What difficulties? No, wait," he added. The prospect of anything going wrong with Mao's films was more than he could stand. He must deal with this in person, he decided. "I will come to see you directly. Await my arrival, I will be there shortly!"
He made some excuse to his secretary and rushed out. Traffic was light for once, and he was at the production office within half an hour. Leung was waiting for him as he arrived, and quickly showed him into his office.
"Now," Feng demanded, "what's the problem?"
""it's Miss Mao," Cheung said gloomily. "She's destroying our business!"
"How is that?" Feng asked.
Cheung sighed. "Normally, we have a very select group working here. There is myself, usually one or two directors, four camera operators, an editor, a lighting and sound technician, and a couple of secretaries to handle the paperwork. The group had all worked here for several years, and it was a smooth production. We all knew one another and worked well together."
"Sounds good to me," Feng said.
"Does it!" The man laughed. "Well come with me and we shall see!"
He led Feng through the offices and into the spacious studio at the rear. Nobody was about, so Cheung went through the studio floor and into the back rooms. He came to a room marked 'camera equipment' and opened it unceremoniously.
In the room were racks holding sound equipment of various kinds. To one side sat a young man, staring at a small television. One of Mao's movies was playing on the screen - Feng recognised it instantly as 'Dojo Training with Pussy Lickers'. Angela was squatting in a sliding stance, her legs spread wide open, her pussy lips gaping, so wet she was literally dripping with juices. Her white jacket was also wide open, displaying her gigantic breasts. One hand rested on a muscular thigh whilst the other beckoned to a sensei who was on his hands and knees before her. He was a big guy, bald except for a long queue of black hair, and dressed in a black uniform. He looked rather badly beaten and bruised.
"Macho man," she commanded, "start licking my pussy!"
With a whimper of fear the man crawled to her. His tongue snaked out and began lapping at her soaking pussy. Angela moaned with delight as she grabbed the man's queue. He groaned as she used it to yank his face harder into her. "Hmmm," she groaned as he pleasured her, "that's the way, pig!"
The young man watching was obviously rather taken with the scene - to judge from the way his pants were around his ankles as he stroked a very erect cock!
"Quing!" Cheung yelled. The man turned, his eyes opening in shock as he almost jumped out of his seat. "What are you doing! We've talked about this!"
"I'm so sorry!" Quing said in terror - though, Feng noticed, he did not actually stop masturbating even as he tried to defend himself! "I can't help it sir!"
"Not at work!" Cheung roared. "Stop it! Right now!"
"But sir," Quing whined. His eyes slid back to the screen. "She's so beautiful... so muscular... I can't help myself..." his voice trailed off as he watched Angela throwing her head back and screaming in orgasm.
"This is the fifth sound technician we have had here in the last two months!" Cheung said to Feng. "The others were all dismissed for the same reason - they couldn't stop masturbating!"
He turned and walked to the next room along. A very similar scene was playing out there - again, a room full of equipment, this time cameras. Three cameramen sat inside, their eyes fixed to monitor screens which displayed Angela Mao movies. Every one of them was busily jerking off.
This time Cheung's anger hardly even provoked a response. Two of the three men continued jerking off, as if they hadn't even noticed Cheung and Feng enter. The third looked around distractedly, said "yeah...?" and immediately went back to looking at the screen.
It was ' Discussing with Women about their Husbands: the Best Stocking to Break Granite and to Castrate Men' this time, Feng saw. Angela was standing before a massive reinforced concrete pillar, throwing tremendously powerful leg strikes at it. The concrete and steel was shattering before her with a tremendous noise.
"How dare you do this!" Cheung yelled. "You're not being paid good money to sit around jerking yourself off!"
"Okay..." the man said absently, paying them virtually no attention at all.
"You see!" Cheung said to Feng. "It's like this all the time! I bring a new man in, and it starts off well enough. But then after he's seen Angela's films once or twice, it's like he becomes obsessed with her. I catch staff jerking off all the time! Eventually the obsession gets worse and worse - half of the staff walk around like zombies. Even when they're not jerking off, it's like they're in a trance. If you talk to them about Angela and her movies, they come alive - they can't stop going on about which scenes they like the best, how much they'd love to spend some time with her, what great fans they are of hers. But as soon as you talk to them about anything else, it's like they just drift off into a trance!
"I'm telling you, Feng, it's virtually impossible to get any work out of them. The only solution I've come up with so far is to just keep hiring new staff every week or so. But it's just not practical - if nothing else, it means there is a rapidly growing number of people who know about this place and the kinds of films we make here. We're supposed to be a secret, Feng, but I tell you, if this keeps up then in another couple of months word is going to get out. The secret will be over!"
He sighed and closed the door. They wandered through to the studio again and Cheung walked over to the shattered remnants of a concrete pillar. It was laced with thick steel rebar, and Cheung fingered the bent and twisted end of one idly. "The fighters are even worse," he said. "I can't even count how many men she has hospitalized. She's castrated dozens of them, that's for sure! Most of them sit in a daze, as if they can't quite comprehend what has happened to them. Their cocks still get hard if you talk about Angela to them... they will start jerking off right there in front of you! They can't cum any more, of course, but they will stroke and stroke until they rub themselves raw. And all the time, they will ask you when Angela is coming back, when can the see Angela, do you think Angela will come to see them today. It's like their minds are broken!"
"What have you done about them?" Feng asked. "Surely so many victims must raise suspicion?"
"I've managed to get most of them transferred into mental wards," Cheung said. "Some liberal bribery in the right places works wonders. Others I got moved to new hospitals in remote parts of the country, or even transferred to other countries. It's not likely that their stories will be listened to, they come across as the ramblings of a madman. But Feng, we're going through so many fighters! It used to be that losing to a woman didn't affect our fighters very much. They knew in advance they were up against women who were tough opponents, and even if they did lose they knew it was a good fight, a pretty close thing. But with Mao... it's like sending children in to battle King Kong, Feng. She doesn't just beat them, she utterly humiliates and destroys them. On purpose! And I can't get her to stop, or even to tone it down a little. I ask her to go easy on the men, and she just laughs at me."
Feng nodded. "She is a very forceful lady," he said.
"Well, she's beaten at least half the male fighters of this city to the point of death. Rumors are going around the rest about something going on. They're scared to take the work on! We've been recruiting from other cities, but word is even reaching them. It's getting harder to find new fighters than it is to find new production staff. I'm even considering hiring men to kidnap fighters and forcing them to fight here against their will!"
"No, not that," Feng said firmly. Not without my permission, he thought. Though from the sounds of things, it might come to that! "Perhaps I should talk to her," he said.
"You'll have your chance," Cheung said. "She's due here in an hour to record her next movie!"
Feng decided to wait. He was tempted to go back to the office and ask that Angela be sent to him, but it seemed silly to play such dominance games with her. So he sat in Cheung's office and waited on her.
He didn't have long to wait. The entire staff gathered in the lobby about half an hour before she was due, chattering excitedly to one another about the chance to see her in person again. All of the men had rather obvious bulges in their trousers, clearly erect just at the thought of her arrival. She got there ten minutes early, walking into a room suddenly silent.
She paid no attention to any of the men, merely walking through the crowd to the entrance to the back rooms. No, not merely walking, Feng saw. She strutted, body language displaying a confidence so great that it went through arrogance and out the other side into... what? He wasn't quite sure.
Feng followed along behind her, feeling like a schoolboy following his mother. Angela went to her dressing room, walked in... and shut the door in his face, apparently without even noticing that he was there.
He didn't know what to do. He had been so rich and important for so long that he didn't even remember the last time somebody had been rude to him. He waited for a minute or two whilst he tried to decide on a course of action, then finally hesitantly knocked on the door.
"Enter," her voice sounded.
He went inside. She had already changed into her fighting outfit, stockings and suspenders, and a tight white jacket gaping open at the front. Feng's eyes went to her openly displayed pussy, even more beautiful in reality than it looked on screen. He wondered how any woman could go around displaying herself in such a way, and what it said about her ego that she did.
"Hello Angela," he said cautiously.
"Feng," she said. Her voice was amused. "Something I can do for you?"
"Well, I've been talking to Cheung," he said. "He seems to think there are some problems developing..."
"What problems are those?" She asked.
"Well, the production staff seem rather... enamoured with you," he said. It sounded ludicrously inadequate to describe what he had seen that morning.
She laughed. "Yes, don't they?" She said. "I do tend to have that effect on men, Feng. But then... you know that, don't you?" She said teasingly.
He blushed, remembering the countless times he had pleasured himself to images of this woman. Was he so far removed from Quing? And though Feng regarded himself as a master when it came to hiding his emotions behind a stern mask, something about Angela seemed to make that impossible. It was like she could look inside him and see his soul.
"Well, it's becoming a bit of a problem to find men who can, um, resist your charms," he said. "Cheung was wondering, that is, I was wondering, if you could kind of tone things down a little around them?"
"I could do that, certainly," she said. "But I won't. Was there anything else?"
He blinked in surprise. "Um, well there's also the fighters," he said. "You keep hospitalising them. We're having more and more trouble finding men to fight you. Coud you perhaps go easier on them? Maybe not castrate quite so many? And maybe hit them a little less hard?"
"Nope," she said. "Was that all?"
He stared at her, unable to hide his astonishment. How could she talk to him like this, he who paid her salary! He decided to be tough. "Now listen here," he said. "these are not requests I'm making, they are orders! You work for me, Angela, and you will do as I say?"
"Oh, will I?" She asked casually. "Or what?"
"Or I will fire you!" He snapped.
She considered that for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I don't think you will, Feng. I think you enjoy pleasuring yourself to our little movies too much for that. But I tell you what... I will take pity on you. Follow me!"
She snapped the last with such force that he found himself obeying without really thinking about it. He followed her meekly out of the dressing room and into the main studio. The film crew had already set up the equipment, and turned to watch as she strutted onto the fighting floor. "Listen up!" She said loudly. "We're going to film a little movie to settle a question once and for all!"
She turned on Feng. "What we're going to do is have a little friendly fight," she said. "If you defeat me, Feng, then I will acquiesce to your demands. I'll be a good little girl, and follow your orders with regards to the filming - along with any other orders you care to give from now on."
Her smile widened. "But fair's fair, Feng. If I win, then you will follow my orders. Any and every order I give you, from now on - instant unquestioning obedience! Are the terms understood?"
"That's ridiculous!" He said in shock. "No!"
"That's the bet, whether you like it or not!" She declared. He saw smiles and nods passing between the film crew. A couple of the sound guys moved to the entrances to the studio, standing in front of them to block the doors. Feng stared at them nervously. They were on her side! The little red lights on top of the cameras lit up; they were filming!
Feng had been a martial arts fan since he was a child, some thirty or more years ago, and not just in terms of watching others perform. He had spent countless hours in dojos learning and practicing his kung fu skills. Although perhaps past his prime, he was without doubt every bit as good a fighter as most of the professionals he hired.
Angela Mao, though, took those same professionals apart... often ten at a time. He had few illusions about his ability to fight her. But then, if he refused, he very much doubted that would stop her. She had no compunction about attacking a defenceless man, because compared to her strength and skill, not to mention her utter sadism, all men were defenceless.
He had to at least try to defend himself. What else could he do, simply stand there and let her beat him?
He stripped off his jacket and tie. Angela advanced, smiling widely.
Attack was always the best form of defence, Feng decided. He launched himself against her, striking at the midsection with the hardest punch he could throw. She didn't even try to dodge it, although she certainly could have. Instead she let the blow crash into her ridged abdomen with full force. Feng yelled in pain as his fists collided with rock-hard muscles. The shock jolted his arm all the way to his elbow, and he staggered back with a moan.
Angela stalked forward, grinning widely. "What was that?" She cooed. "Did a fly land on my abdomen? I think it did, but I can't be sure since I barely felt it!"
I have to keep hitting the same spot, over and over, he thought. He leapt forward again, flinging a vicious side kick into her abdomen. He howled in pain as he practically broke his ankle on her. He ignored the pain, somehow, and sent a series of blows thudding into her muscled stomach, hitting her against and again until he was sure he had broken bones in his fists and feet.
Half the film crew were barely even watching the action any more. Every one of them was openly masturbating, even the camera guys were jerking off with one hand whilst they tracked the action with the other.
And somehow, despite the pain he was in, Feng was just as hard as any of them. Angela was almost as much of an obsession to him as she was to any of them. His mind was a bewildered whirl of pain, lust, and... something else. But what?
Finally, she tired of letting him hit her. With casual ease she spun him around and ripped his shirt off his back. Another couple of hard jerks ripped his trousers and underwear off, and there he was, naked, his erection on display for everyone there - and for the cameras.
"You know why you're going to lose, Feng?" She asked casually as she shoved him away. He fell to the floor, groaning in pain as his erection slammed into the hard surface.
"It's not because I have twenty times your strength... although I do," she said. She strode over to the concrete pillar and yelled "Kiaaaaa!" As she fired a devastating punch into it, smashing a chunk off the top. "It's not just that muscles are so strong that I'm invulnerable to anything you can throw at me... although that's true too."
She walked over to him as he turned over and rose to his hands and knees, groaning. "It's not that I am so much quicker, more skilful, and more powerful than you that I could quite easily shatter any bone in your body... or every bone in your body, without even breaking a sweat or having to breathe hard, although all of that is also true," she said.
She raised one leg and placed her shoe on the back of his neck. Slowly the shoe descended, and although there was no strength at all behind the motion, she pushed him down face-first into the ground. "No, it is none of those things. You see, I could beat you into defeat without the slightest effort, because I am so vastly superior to you that you couldn't even offer a competition. But I'm not going to. I'm not going to so much as lay a single finger on you."
She took the foot off his neck and placed the tip beneath his lips. " The reason you're going to lose, Feng... is that you want to lose. Isn't that right?"
His lips went to her shoe and kissed softly. He couldn't help it. She smiled, watching him. "That's a good boy. Submit to me, now and forever. Submit not because I hurt you... but because you know, deep down, that I deserve your submission. You will obey me Feng, now and forever, without hesitation, because deep in your heart you know that you are an inferior male who yearns for the controlling hand of a superior female!"
It was true, he thought, and the realisation was like a thunderbolt. All the years watching men fight women... he had thought it was about martial arts skill and strength, but really those things were just aspects of something deeper. His need to find his superior and submit himself to her, body and soul.
"Show me your devotion, Feng," she whispered. In that moment kissing her shoe ceased to be a humiliation, even ceased to be a defeat. He gave himself to her, kissing her shoe in what he now understood to be an act of submission. An act of worship.
"That's right, Feng," she said, smiling down. "Worship my shoe and become what you were always meant to be, what you have always wanted to be. My slave."
And as the cameras recorded every detail in high definition colour, he did exactly that.
Once again, Feng sat in a conference room full of bankers - the very same room, he reflected, in which he had signed the deal for his new building, Feng Tower, a year ago. The day that he had met his Mistress.
Angela sat at the far end of the table, dressed in a smart business suit. The table was was otherwise occupied by various bankers and lawyers. Most of them looked profoundly worried, even depressed. He couldn't blame them. He was selling his entire multi-billion dollar business, every last asset. On top of that, he was signing over the entirety of his personal holdings, down to the last dollar. When he put his name to these contracts, he would be utterly penniless. They had advised him against it most strongly. When that didn't work, they had pleaded with him. When that didn't work, some of them had literally fell to their knees and begged.
It hadn't mattered. His Mistress would own everything, of course. Even Feng Tower, his pride and joy, would now be Mao Tower.
He looked down at the thick contract before him. All he had to do was write his name, and his Mistress would own everything. Legally, at least - in truth, she already owned everything. Feng belonged to Angela; no slave in history had ever been as completely devoted as he was to her.
He glanced at Angela. The skyline he loved framed her gorgeous body, his buildings seemingly arrayed around her. How could he ever have been so shallow as to want these things for himself, rather than as something he could give to her? Nonsense!
Feng looked down, and signed with a smile on his lips.