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I was sitting in a booth at a Country Western Bar that I was visiting for the first time. I was there about two hours watching the place fill up and waiting for the band to come back from break. I was downing my third beer and waiting to get up the nerve to ask one of the girls to dance. I had no one in particular in mind, but the place was full and there were plenty of women to choose from.

Just as I finished my beer, the waitress came over and placed another one on the table. She said it was complements of the customer sitting at the bar. I could hardly see the bar area because my view was blocked by all the customers. I just waved in that general direction, a friendly salute and started to drink the beer. Many images were going through my mind, wondering who bought me the beer. As I was looking down at my glass, I sensed that someone was standing next to my booth and I quickly looked up.

She was amazing. She stood at least 6’2″ and had gorgeous long blonde hair. Her stature was immense. She was at least 200lbs with broad shoulders and very large breasts. She had on a cowboy hat, overalls and snake skin boots with steel toes and spurs. I just stared at her completely speechless. She finally said, “Well, aren’t you going to invite me to join you?” I stuttered, “Yes, of course.”

She sat down on the same side I was on and slid all the way over, pressing me into the wall. She put her arm around me and gave me a firm squeeze. I felt my heart pounding and my groin coming to life as she looked me in the eye. She said, “I’m the Sheriff around here. How would you like to be my deputy?” I just nodded my head and felt a gulp in my throat. This was not a woman who took no for an answer and I was totally confused by her aggressive tactics.

Before I knew it, she grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me toward her. She opened my mouth with her tongue and stuck it half-way down my throat. Her other arm reached into my crotch and started squeezing my balls. I felt completely helpless. I was being crushed by an amazon and was loving every second of it. We both began to breath heavily and were getting very turned on.

After what seemed like eternity, she removed her tongue from my mouth and said, “Let’s go back to my place for a little bull riding.” I couldn’t believe what I heard, but awkwardly smiled and said, “That sounds like a great idea, lets go.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the booth without any effort. She put her arm around my waist tightly and said, “You’re coming with me.” I was very embarrassed. I felt like everyone in the bar was staring at me as I was being dragged down the aisle by a large cowgirl and trying to cover up the large bulge in my pants.

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This is a story that is difficult for me to tell; but, Cindy has told me that if I didn’t tell it she was going to really do some damage to me. It began with our being introduced by a mutual friend. I had told him in a conversation we were having that I thought these stories of women beating men in arm wrestling, wrestling and boxing were hog wash. He had told me that he knew a woman who could make a believer out of me. Thus the meeting with Cindy.

She was beautiful and she certainly doesn’t look like one would think a strong woman would look like. She started out when we shook hands as our friend, I’ll call him Bill, introduced us. She began to increase the pressure of her grip as she smiled and winked sweetly and said, “I hear that you don’t think a woman can beat you at arm wrestling, wrestling and boxing. Are you already having some second thoughts ? I’m going to take your ego apart and put it back together like I think it should be. I’m going to really put some power into this little demonstration, not too much because I don’t want to break anything, yet.” And with that she did and the next thing I knew I was on my knees looking up into her laughing face. She let my hand go and walked over to the dinning room table. Cindy whistled at me and with the come hither gesture with her finger she motioned me to come over to her. I walked over and sat down where she pointed. “OK, big boy let’s start the lesson. We’ll go left handed first so your little right hand can recover some. Bill will count to three and start us off. My left hand is my weakest, but I promise you it will be way too strong for you.”

She was right. Cindy let me give it everything I could as she taunted me about being too weak for her. Then she slowly began to lower my arm down to the table. “I could have done that in about two or three seconds, but I wanted you to see that it wasn’t luck, or technique but simply that I’m much stronger than you are. Reach over here and I’ll let you feel what a solid arm muscle feels like.” I reached over and her arm was as hard as steel, and that was her “weak” arm. As if reading my mind Cindy popped up her right arm and said, “Now feel this baby.” It was larger and just as hard and I was totally demoralized. I knew this woman was just too much for me; but my male ego would not let me say so. We arm wrestled right-handed with the same results. The difference was before Cindy put my arm all the way down she increased the pressure of her grip and said, “Let’s hear you beg me to not make pulp out of your hand and to please put your arm down.”

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Okay, so I hate exercise–I admit it–I hate exercise. I’m getting better about it I met you. My body’s not the best but you’ve gotten me to at least move and finally after watching your buns and those great legs of yours, I brought my bike out of mothballs. You’re a jock, no doubt about it and I wish I had a body to match yours, but for right now I’ll settle for just being able to lose 2 lbs a week.

I have found though that you’ve caused my rides to be a little more exciting lately than I remember them as a child. Last week as I was arguing with myself about the many reasons why I shouldn’t go for a ride. Like I don’t feel like it…it’s too hot…I don’t want to…I need to do some paperwork for work…when I heard a knock on the door. And there you were in your biking shorts holding your bike. I was totally shocked because usually you never come to visit and you’ve made so many remarks about the fact that I ride too slowly that I assumed you would never ask me to go for a ride. But there you are. God, how I lust after you when you’re in those black shorts. They leave nothing to my overactive imagination. You’ve been out for a while because you’re soaked with sweat, making the curves of your muscles even more visible.

The look on your face is pure satisfaction. “So, want to go for a ride? I’ve done 40 miles so far and you can survive another 10, can’t you?”

Oh, shit, I think to myself, he’s doing well, he’ll beat me into the ground, but I smile and sputter, “Sure, you know I’m slow though” I’ve got to change and oh, damn, now he’s going see that I haven’t got a tan or even a shade of a tan. At least my legs are shaved. I put on my sweat shorts and my jersey and wheel my bike out.

I’m thinking, you’re used to racing and you’ve got a bike set up for it. There’s no way I can match you. I’ve got a mountain bike that weighs twice as much as yours. I outweigh you by a good amount. And you’ve been in training for months. Oh well, the pain’ll be over soon.

We start off slow and I follow you. At least you’re not cranking. You slow down and drift back beside me so we can talk. “How bout we take one of the side roads, do about 10 and then circle back to your apartment? You take me home in the car if I’m too tired to ride?”

“Sure.” A reasonable request it seems to me.

“Or you can put me up for the night.” And off you ride and down a side street laughing as you drop me in the dust.

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For as far back as I can remember I have had an interest, you could say an obsession, with beautiful women who were well-built and physically strong. As the years have gone by I guess I have become more “hardcore” in this interest. In fact it is a sexual turn on for me to think about a beautiful woman beating me in physical tests of strength such as arm wrestling and wrestling. I have thought about boxing as well, but I am afraid of black eyes, etc. At any rate, this story is about how I was introduced to a club of women who are all beautiful, well-built and physically strong.

I had been writing to Cat – a real live woman, believe me, for some time when circumstances made it possible for me to travel and spend several days in the area in which she lived. Cat had told me that she loved to wrestle and dominate her ‘victims’ physically before she took them apart sexually and that she had some female friends who did the same thing. I was so excited that I could think of nothing else. I arrived and contacted Cat to tell her the hotel where I was staying. She said, ” I’m so glad you are here. I have told the other girls about you and they can’t wait to see us wrestle. It’s really amazing, but I don’t remember ever being as strong as I am now. You get unpacked and settled in and then a few of us will come over to your room and we’ll have a little warm up contest to see who pays for dinner tonight. I hope you brought enough cash ’cause there will be five of us going out for a big steak dinner on you.” I hung the phone up and got all my things unpacked. It wasn’t long before I heard a knock on the door and I could feel the excitement as I opened the door.

Standing there were four big, beautiful women. I knew at this point that I would be no match for any of them. They were all dressed in tight sweaters, short skirts and high heels. It seemed to me that their legs were a mile long. They greeted me with big smiles and as each one shook my hand and introduced themselves they each gave my hand a sample of their strength. Cat said, ” We are starving so we’ll make this quick. Come over here and kneel down in front of me and let me give you a sample of my scissors hold. We could wrestle and the result would be the same; this way we don’t get all messed up before dinner. If you can last for 30 seconds without submitting then we’ll buy you dinner. ” I knelt down and Cat almost gently placed my head between her long legs. My throat was resting on her crotch and I was looking up into her smiling face. The girls counted to three and then Cat winked and squeezed.

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Once again Jim found himself climbing the stairs to Carol’s 27th Street apartment. Several weeks ago he had attempted to wrestle Carol, but only ended up submitting to painful holds – the dreaded Boston crab, a combination body scissors/headlock where Carol completely shut down his breathing, and a deadly sleeper that sent him temporarily to dreamland. Despite his poor performance in Carol’s clutches, Jim was thrilled with the experience in retrospect. His life-long fantasy of being physically dominated and tortured by a beautiful woman had certainly been realized in spades. Jim had made a return appointment with Carol on the spot, and today he was keeping that date.

The beautiful Carol greeted Jim warmly and ushered him into the apartment, which was equipped with wrestling mats as before. This time the six-foot blonde was dressed in a shiny spandex “catsuit,” which left little concerning her anatomy to the imagination. She was so luscious that Jim’s palms seemed to itch in his eagerness to get his hands on her.

“You like?” she cooed, turning and showing off her body. “I just got this little number last week. It’s great for wrestling – guys get so involved in looking at me that they forget what we’re doing. Makes it real easy to trap ’em!”

Jim gulped, imagining how he would soon be trapped that way!

“You know, Jim,” added Carol, “you really didn’t do very well against me last time. Were you really trying?”

“I sure was! You’re just a damned good wrestler. Anyway, what excites me the most is being forced to submit to your holds. I’m not really into defeating a woman – I enjoy being dominated.”

“Well, you’ve certainly come to the right place! Like I think I told you last time, I really get off on using my body to make a man beg for mercy! Tell you what – I’ll stress really punishing you today. How’s that?”

“Sounds great! Just don’t kill me!”

“What? And lose a good customer – No way! What I will do, though, is pour on the pressure until you say the magic word. Let’s use ‘mercy’ as a safe word. Don’t forget it!”

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