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Champion's Dilemma
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Champion's Dilemma
Jim O'Donnell's face had turned crimson from the pressure now being
applied to his neck and head, pressure being asserted by the legs of a
beautiful woman. If anyone had told him two days ago that he would be
humiliated and totally beaten at his own sport by a female, he would have
laughed right in their face.
Jim was the current wrestling champion of the regional wrestling
association, he had been so for over a year, and he loved it. He had
defended his title on numerous occasions and had always emerged the victor.
It was after one such occasion, as he was leaving the arena, that he
was approached by a tall black woman. As she walked over to him he noticed
with genuine interest that she was quite lovely. He guessed her age would
be around 31. She had straight hair in a pageboy style, and her lips were
full red with lipstick.
She wore a tight leather jacket and trousers suit in red, finished off
with red high-heeled ankle boots. Her jacket was open, revealing a white
blouse which was open at the neck, showing ample cleavage. He liked what he
saw. At first he had mistaken her for an autograph hunter, but was soon put
right on the fact when she began to speak. "I am not wanting your
autograph, Mr. O'Donnell. I want to represent you in the future. I want to
manage you."
Jim had been taken aback by this remark and wondered if she was a bit
of a crackpot. "I'm sorry Miss, but I already have a manager." He pointed
to the man standing by his side.
The woman looked the man up and down, then said, "Please, would you
join me in my car?" She pointed to a white limo.
"Go ahead, Frank," Jim said, "I'll wait for you in the car."
As the woman led Frank to her awaiting chauffeur-driven limo, Jim sat
in the driver's seat of his own car and waited.
Half an hour passed, and eventually the white limo drove off and Frank
rejoined Jim. A deal had been struck by the woman and Frank, a sort of
wager had been agreed upon. Jim was to go to the woman's house within two
days and wrestle her champion. If he won, he would receive the sum of
thirty thousand dollars. If he lost, then she would receive all the rights
to promoting him. At first he refused, but the thought of a quick, easy
thirty thousand dollars soon won him over to the idea.
* ** *
He arrived in the morning of the second day around 11:00. He pulled
his car onto the drive of the black woman's mansion and gazed at its size
and surroundings.
A small young white man let him into the house and gestured for him to
follow to a sitting room. He placed his bag on the floor and sat in one of
the many chairs available. The young man left him, presumably to inform his
mistress of the arrival of her guest. He sat and waited.
Shortly after, he was startled slightly by a voice a voice from behind
him. It was that of the black woman. "Thank you for coming, Mr. O'Donnell.
I trust that you had a pleasant journey."
He nodded his acknowledgment and spoke. "Thank you, I did. Where do
we get down to business?"
She looked different today. Her hair was brushed back off her face and
tied in a bob at the nape of her neck, her attire was a red leotard. She
must favor that color, he thought. The leotard was tight and showed every
curve of her well sculptured body. Its leg holes were cut high on the hip,
and on her legs she wore sheer lycra tights that enhanced their muscular
shape. She wore no shoes.
Her body, he noticed, was covered in a slight film of sweat, probably
from an exercise workout, he thought. All these spoiled rich chicks do
them. She spoke again, "You're eager, Mr. O'Donnell. Bring your things and
follow me."
She turned and left the room. Jim picked up his bag and followed
quickly behind.
* ** *
She led him to her own private gymnasium. Various pieces of equipment
came to view and in the middle was a large area of wrestling mats. "You may
get changed in there," she pointed to a small cubicle. He entered it and
changed into his wrestling trunks and boots. As he reentered the gym, he
saw that the black woman had been joined by someone else.
A very tall white woman was now standing on the mats. The sight of her
made him wince with delight. Her body was that of a bodybuilder's, although
not over the top. Each muscle was well defined and rippled with power and
strength. Her legs, he decided, were awesome, her thighs were firm and
bulged slightly, real man-crushers. They were encased in dark tan colored
lycra tights. She didn't wear shoes either.
Her leotard was in the same style as the black woman's, only it was
made from the wet-look material. Her hair was blonde and long and trailed
over her shoulders and hung down her back. Her face, though beautiful, was
hard; the look in her eyes was one of determination and hunger.
The black woman introduced the woman to him, "This is Vicky. She is my
champion and your opponent."
Jim began to laugh, "you're joking, of course."
"Is something wrong, Mr. O'Donnell?" the negress asked.
Jim shook his head, "No, nothing. I just can't believe that you wish
to throw away thirty thousand dollars."
The black woman's smile broadened. "You may just be throwing your life
into my hands, Mr. O'Donnell."
Jim stopped laughing and once again looked at Vicky. She was gesturing
for him to join her on the mats.
The black woman walked over to him and stood in front of him. She
placed a hand on his chest and trailed her sharp-nailed fingers down it,
scratching lightly. "Shall we begin?" she asked him.
He looked into her eyes. "You're serious," he said.
"Very serious," she replied.
He shrugged. "Lady, it's your money," he said, and went to join Vicky
on the mats.
As soon as he had reached the mats, the black woman began to set the
rules of combat. "You will wrestle to the first one who manages to obtain
five pins or submissions. A K.O. is considered as one fall or a submission.
You will be awakened and asked to carry on. If you cannot, then it will be
considered as a victory to the one left standing. Do you understand the
rules?"
Both combatants nodded heir heads. "What about rounds?" Jim asked.
"A fall or a submission indicates the end of each round. You will have
a one minute interval, then you will resume wrestling. There is no time
limit to this contest. You will wrestle to a conclusion."
The black woman took hold of the stool that was in the gym and sat
down. "Are you ready?" she asked.
The two nodded again. The black woman smiled, she had faith in her
champion. "Wrestle on," she shouted.
They both began to circle each other. Jim was about to grab Vicky's
arm when she suddenly did a forward roll and took hold of his leg, pulling
it from under him; he found himself flat on his back. She stood and placed
her leg over his. The feel of the lycra tights on his skin aroused his
senses, but he was soon brought back to the fight by the pain from the step-
over toe-hold she executed on him.
He screamed slightly. God this girl was strong. "Am I hurting you,
you bastard?" she asked mockingly. She pressed down some more on his leg
and he winced again. She released his leg and forward rolled away from him.
He watched her roll across the mats and come to her feet facing him. She
assumed the wrestler's stance and waited for him to move. "She's quick," he
thought to himself. He flipped himself to his feet and faced her. She
smiled and edged closer. "Let her make the first move," he thought, "and
counter it."
With speed she charged forward and sent a straight punch to Jim's jaw.
Taken off-guard by this, he staggered back somewhat but didn't fall.
Vicky took advantage of this and moved in closer to unleash a kick to
his unprotected stomach. The impact made him keel forward, winded. His
lungs fought for breath.
Sensing an early victory, Vicky entwined her fingers in Jim's hair,
held his head steady, then brought her knees hard into his face. The blow
sent him crashing to the floor.
He tried to wipe the tears caused by the blow from his eyes. They were
impairing his vision. He turned over onto his side and started to get up,
but it was no good. Before he could do so he felt Vicky grab his hair once
again. He yelped in discomfort. Suddenly he felt her strong thigh under
his neck, and as she lay on her side, she placed the other thigh on the top
and started to apply the most painful head scissors.
"Having fun, Mr. O'Donnell?" asked the black woman, who had been
watching with the greatest of pleasure as her champion was slowly
dismantling Jim O'Donnell. He grabbed her thighs, trying to prize them
apart, but they were too strong. She eased her grip a little to allow him
to breathe, then tightened the hold more.
He gasped as the air was slowly being cut off. He felt as though his
head was going to burst.
"Do you submit, Mr. O'Donnell?" asked his blonde tormentress.
Jim tried again with the little strength he had left to break free from
the killer thighs, but it was useless.
The black woman laughed. "If I were you, I'd give in. She could break
you neck if she wanted to."
He arched his back into a wrestler's bridge in the hope of dislodging
her, but a quick jab with her left fist to his ribs brought him back down to
the mat. She tensed her ankles and jerked his throat hard between her legs.
He slammed the mat hard, indicating his submission, and Vicky smiled as she
released him from the devastating hold.
"One - nil to Vicky," stated the black woman.
* ** *
Jim could not believe the strength of this woman. He rubbed his neck
to try to ease the stiffness that the pressure of those relentless thighs
had caused. His head throbbed from the rush of blood that was now allowed
to circulate again.
"Round two," shouted the black woman excitedly.
Jim rose from his stool and rushed at Vicky. Leaping, he took her down
to the floor with a rugby tackle. He had hoped to gain the advantage, but
the jolt of Vicky landing on top made him lose his grip.
Vicky wasted no time. She spun around on top of him and placed her
knees one on each arm. He began to buck like a wild horse, and Vicky rode
him. "Tame him, Vicky girl!" shouted the negress.
With her right hand Vicky grabbed Jim's chin and held his face upwards
with her left. She reached around and grabbed his balls. She twisted them
painfully and Jim let out a yell.
Vicky leaned forward, so that her face was close to his. "Thought that
you had me, didn't you, boy?" Her lips were quivering with anger over her
clenched as she spat the words out. "What's wrong? Am I hurting you? Am I
too heavy for you?" she mocked. "Never been beaten by a woman before, have
you? Well, I've got news for you. Not only will you taste defeat today,
but also total humiliation. You are going to be at our total mercy!"
She placed her lips onto his and began to kiss him hard. She forced
her tongue into his mouth and he pulled away in disgust.
Vicky laughed again and inched her body forward. Closing her thighs,
she trapped his upward face between them. "You will learn to use that
tongue obediently before the day is over!" she said and moved further
forward until she was straddling his head.
He could smell the sweaty odor of her sex. He tried to topple her, but
she held tight. Slowly, so that he could take in what was happening to him,
she sat down on his face. Her mound now covered his nose and mouth. She
pressed down hard and moved her hips backwards and forwards, riding his
captured face. "Enjoy it while you can, champ!" she said.
"Smother the bastard!" shouted the black woman.
Vicky turned and looked at her. "He's of no use to us dead."
Vicky ground down hard again with her ass, forcing muffled cries from
Jim. After ten minutes of this punishment, occasionally lifting to allow
him air, he gave up. The second fall went to Vicky.
The minute interval passed, and once again Jim squared up to Vicky. He
had to do something quickly - he was losing 2-0 to this female. He reached
forward and grabbed her arm. Twisting it quickly, he Irish-whipped her onto
her back. As he leaned over her to grab her hair, she brought her legs up
over her head and kicked him squarely with both feet in the chest. The
force sent him sprawling backwards.
Before he had a chance to do anything, she was on him, wrapping her
strong legs around his waist, squeezing as hard as she could to force him
into submission. Her body scissors was painful. His stomach burned from
the pressure of those lycra-clad thighs. She lay on her side, propping
herself up on one arm for maximum pressure.
The black woman smiled cruelly. "Avoid those thighs, Mr. O'Donnell.
They will be the end of you!"
God, he was in pain. He tried to force her legs apart with his hands.
She would let him get just so far and then dash all his hopes of escape by
jerking her thighs closed, forcing the air from his lungs.
"Submit!" she screamed at him. "Submit to my superior thigh power!"
He shook his head in defiance and Vicky merely smiled. "You will submit
to them. They will mash you into putty!" she said.
He reached for her ankles and started to pull on them, but he soon let
go. As she tightened her grip, he began screaming and slapped the mat in
submission. She released her hold and pushed him away with her feet.
The score was now 3-0, and he didn't feel in any state to pull one
back. He just lay there and breathed hard.
After the interval Vicky was relentless. She could smell victory and
would do anything to gain it.
She came in fast and hard with a kick to his mid-section. He doubled
up with pain. As he did she hooked her arm through his, turned her body
into him, and heaved, bringing him down to the floor with a cross buttock.
He responded quickly and sat up straight into another kick from Vicky. Her
foot caught him under the chin. The impact made him bite his tongue, and
blood dripped from the corners of his mouth.
His head was spinning with dizziness. Hell, this woman was fast.
Whoever had taught her to fight was good.
As he lay on the floor holding his jaw, she began to reign blows to his
body. He was open to them and he couldn't even focus on her. He began to
scream again as the heel of her foot came down on his crotch. His hands
cupped protectively, so she started to kick elsewhere to his unprotected
parts.
He rolled over onto his front and curled up into a ball, but the blows
kept on falling. She stomped on his back, his arms, sending them numb, his
legs. Then suddenly her heel caught him on the temple, and he felt the
blackness of unconsciousness overcoming him.
It was the black woman who brought him round. She tapped his face and
his eyes met hers as she opened them. "4-0, Mr. O'Donnell. One more fall
and you're all mine." She flicked his nose with her finger.
Vicky was rearing to go. She was already standing in the middle of the
mat, waiting for him. "Come on champ, let's get it finished," she chided
him. He staggered to meet her. As he reached the middle, she swept his
feet from under him with her leg and followed him down to the floor. She
came in from behind him. She snaked out her legs and scissored his neck
once again. He didn't stand a chance now. He was hers to do with as she
liked. It was only a matter of time now before she claimed her complete
victory, but first she wanted to make him suffer.
She reminded him of the strength she possessed in her thighs by tensing
them every now and then, turning his face red.
Vicky looked down at him. "It's time to show some respect for me,
champ." Taking hold of his hair and head, she turned him to face her
crotch. "Kiss my superior sex," she demanded.
He couldn't break free from the iron-like hold that her legs had on
him. Even if he could, he hadn't the strength to keep fighting, so he did
as he was told and kissed her. As he moved away from her she pulled his
face back into her and held him tight with her thighs. "I didn't tell you
to stop." He kissed her again. "Use your tongue on me," she ordered.
He began to lick her, wetting her mound through the already wet leotard
and lycra tights. "That's a good boy," she said mockingly.
She looked at the black woman who had come to stand near them. "He's
all yours," she said, giving him one last hard squeeze, causing him to gag
before the released him.
The negress looked down at the beaten champ. Straddling his body, she
lowered herself onto his chest, pinning his arms with her knees. "It seems
that I am your new manager, Mr. O'Donnell." She sat with her hands on her
hips in the dominant position.
She said, "I've got lots of plans for you, Jim, plenty of jobs, and I
think that we will start with this." She edged herself forward onto his
face and moved her hips rhythmically over his nose and mouth. She moaned
with pleasure as his tongue began to probe.
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