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Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant [tag]vampires[/tag] and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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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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“He’s obsessed with boobs,” complained Maria, a new recruit to Mistress Jennifer’s cadre of dominant feminizers of hapless men. “My husband Bob just stares at any woman with a full figure–the fuller the better.”

It was easy to see why this disturbed her. Maria, though extremely attractive, was a petite, small-boned woman who was far from buxom. I was privy to this conversation, along with Teasing Tammy, because Jennifer, Maria, and Tammy’s sister and dominatrix, Susan, intended to use us to bring the unsuspecting Bob into a trap–a trap that would deprive him of his manliness forever, it seemed.

Tammy, though only 16, had been designed by Susan and Jennifer as the ultimate cock-tease, with full 35 C breasts. Although my own alternate persona, Sissy Dani, was generally less generously endowed, for this adventure I was also padded out to Playmate-like dimensions.

We were sent out to meet Bob at one of his favorite hangouts, a bar that specialized in attracting men who “appreciated” bosomy types. I was dressed for “bear”–a skin-tight white satin cocktail dress that played up my bogus breasts with a very short skirt, five-inch white satin heels, and dramatic make-up. Tammy had also been dressed to look older: She wore a black leather outfit, also extremely tight and short, with six-inch heels and equally dramatic make-up.

Our instructions (enforced by the post-hypnotic suggestions that created our submissive personalities) were to approach Bob, get him to buy us drinks, and then get him back to Jennifer’s house for his own transformation.

Within minutes after we arrived, I spotted Bob at the bar. “Well, hello there,” I cooed as I approached him, playing up my charms as much as I could.

“Hello yourself, little lady,” Bob replied, smiling. He looked me up and down, pausing noticeably (as expected) at my bust line. “And who’s this little heartbreaker?” he asked, as Tammy sidled up to his other side.

“That’s my sister, Tammy,” I replied. “I’m Dani.”

He put his arms around our waists, in the process letting his hands graze our “boobs.” I suggested he buy us a round of drinks. He made the order, and I told him and Tammy to find a quiet table and I would bring the drinks when they were ready. Bob readily agreed, seeing a chance, I suppose, to make a little time with the enticing Tammy while alone.

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It had been one week since Ariel had been introduced to the role Eric wanted her to play, below, in the dungeon below the royal bedroom. And she had waited eagerly. Eric had not inclined or willing to take her there a second time. She had insisted on wearing her collar for long periods of time, even walking on the beach near the castle wearing it. She had not seen Flounder, but she had seen Sebastian. She had thought he might be angry at her, perhaps hold her in lower esteem, but he seemed as friendly as ever. Grimbsy as well had been his usual friendly but reserved self, never letting on from his behavior that he had seen her bound and kneeling on the floor of Eric’s dungeon. Only the leather collar which she wore constantly told her that the scene in the dungeon had ever happened at all.

Eric was in the bedroom when she got back from her walk along the beach. She wondered why she had not seen Flounder, nor her father, nor in fact anyone who had not been in some way involved with the events in the dungeon. He was sitting on a velvet chair in the bedroom, smiling in the same way he had smiled at her down below.

“Morning,” he said, and she recognized the tone in his voice. Yes, it was time.

“It’s good that you already have your collar on,” he said. Ariel’s hand crept to the leather collar around her neck, playing briefly with the ring embedded in the front of it. He arose, embraced her, and took her hands. As he kissed her she felt him secure cold metal cuffs around her wrists, and when he broke the kiss and moved away from her, her wrists were firmly but comfortably locked together.

He snapped a leash onto the front ring of Ariel’s collar. Then he opened the hidden door within the royal bedchamber and led her down into the dungeon. The door at the bottom slammed shut and locked. Ariel jumped at the sound.

“Nervous, are you?”

Ariel bowed her head. She had tried to think about what he would want from her, and physical signs of submission seemed to be a good idea.

“Somewhat, Master,” she said, her clear alto voice the same one that had serenaded him on the beach two weeks ago. She wondered what he was going to do with her. She had enjoyed the floating experience of last week, but had no desire to allow Sebastian the crab to punish her in order to get to it. Her nipples were still sore from the ordeal the crab had inflicted on her as punishment for the chaotic three days before her marriage to Eric.

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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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