Shapeshifter's blog

The difference in size was reflected in both height and weight and played an important part in the enjoyment and dynamic of the meet.

My opponent stood two inches taller than I, a negligible difference when it came to reach and up-close positioning, but he weighed over 15kg more than I did, and as he stripped out of his clothes to slide on the gear he’d chosen for the roll, I could see that the entire weight difference was in muscle, and that the difference was a debt that - if we were going to wrestle competitively - I would be paying for with interest.

His build wasn’t a complete surprise of course, I’d viewed with keen and grateful eyes the many pictures he’d shared, but the reality was so much better than the images his camera had captured.

As it happened the broad guy that smiled as he adjusted his gear and knelt opposite me was predominantly going to let me practice holds and take a more dominating role with him. The impressive size he carried and strength contained therein were to be my playground and playthings.

We didn’t want it to be entirely one-sided though, I was desperate to sample his power and wrestling style, the very way he filled his singlet alone had me licking my lips. Luckily for me my taunts in the weeks preceding our meet had combined with his existing deep love of wrestling to firmly establish a want to demonstrate his abilities, to lock me up and pay me back for the jabs and jibes I’d ceaselessly doled his way, and so - with awareness to the size difference - we started with a light competitive bout.

His headlock takedown made easy work of hoisting me from my knees and on to my back. Within half a second my world spun and I could tell in what I could see of his face from this position that this was absolutely zero effort for him. I grew all the more excited that I would be in control of the body that was so easily overpowering mine.

This headlock wasn’t solely to be a takedown, it was to also bring surrender, and he began the process with a slow, growing pressure, the size of his arms meaning he didn’t need to flex much at all to have his sizeable bicep swelling, closing the already small space the hold created and pressing down on my carotid artery.

I began to feel the pulse in my neck as the pressure grew and he readjusted himself forwards to bury me beneath his armpit, grinning down at me as he did so before turning and using his other arm to hook one of my legs that I’d started using to try and bridge in protest.

“Ready?” I heard him ask as he brought his arms together, effortlessly curling me around his back. The pressure on my neck and the growing stretch in my spine and hamstring were initially a fun mix of pleasurable punishment before - as I started to become lightheaded - I submitted to him.

He eased off the pressure, unlocked his arms from their respective holds and laid back, resting some of his muscular weight on top of me as he casually laced his hands behind his head. He mockingly sighed in contentment, turned to look at me to see that I'd heard him then moved forwards to kneel again and return to his side of the mat.

It had played out perfectly; a fun display of strength, a warning of his abilities, and an opportunity for me to experience his control before the imminent start of my place of command took hold.

I rolled up on to my knees and we locked up once again. This time I was the first to secure the headlock, and with definite cooperation on his part I took him down to his back and swiftly threw myself on top. From here I reworked my arms to have my left around the back of his neck, using the hand of this arm to lock on to my right bicep and bring my right hand up and across his mouth.

I instantly felt him move beneath me, his warm hands reaching up to grasp my arms as they tightened around him and I cupped the hand more firmly, forcing him now to breathe through only his nose. Each inhale became increasingly audible with the narrow, turbulent flow the location of my hand created.

This particular move was a new favourite that had been discovered fairly recently. Through my years of wrestling I’d learned where my strengths and weaknesses lay. One to one competitive matches? Fine if we are within a few pounds or kg of one another. Against bigger guys? With a disparity such as this? Not a chance for me. Not unless they sought a smaller-dominates-bigger dynamic, are severely lacking in skill or have a specific fetish for holds that they’d like me to apply.

I’d found in this time that I’d been naturally drawn to moves that work by restricting breathing. I’ve never been a big guy, in fact still at my current sub-70kg weight this was the most toned and muscular I’d been, and I’d learnt from my meets to date - both the fun and the disastrous - that my build allowed my limbs to fix firmly around a neck to apply a tight scissor or choke. The use of my hands came from the more recent tutelage of a long-term wrestle buddy who’d began introducing me to what he simply termed 'hand over mouth'.

It was these arms I was using now with increasing effect, the squeeze building incrementally as I drew them closer together, first one elbow walked and repositioned and then the other, reshaping ever smaller the frame they created. I commanded my opponent to open his eyes and keep them open as I focused mine directly into his. I wanted him to see the intent I had in controlling him and making him submit to me and for him to clearly see I was enjoying every single second of doing so.

His determination to not be beaten so quickly could be both seen in the defiant stare that looked back at me and felt in the deep, controlled breaths that raised and lowered his chest, taking my body up and down with each rise and fall, evidencing his ability to withstand my technique.

I sighed in mock disappointment.

“As you wish” I said as I moved to what I consider the second phase of this hold, reserved for stubborn opponents like this that didn’t grant easily the submission I so wanted to hear.

I slid my legs down alongside his and worked my feet beneath his thick thighs and down under his knees. He flexed his legs straight in response - perhaps thinking I was going to try and grapevine or scissor them together - and this is exactly what I wanted to feel. Using their now rigid form as a solid base, I straightened my own legs, hinged down at the waist, slightly arched my back and pulled myself down with my arms, creating a compressive force to add to my weight. I used my position to focus this on to his diaphragm and the lower aspect of his ribcage.

The muffled groan expelled beneath my still firmly cupped hand was a sweet, rewarding sound. He closed his eyes reflexively as he did this and I ordered them back open and fixed back on to mine. With the eye contact reestablished I cinched my arms as tight as I could get them, increasing the squeeze against his now hot and sweating neck.

He held on longer than I thought against this second stage application of my move, he was definitely tough! But eventually I got the tap, the signal of submission, and I instantly eased the pressure from all angles, remaining and relaxing on top of him a few seconds more before sliding off and moving around to be above his head.

I initially moved as though to apply a scissor, sliding first my left and then my right leg alongside his head as I tilted forwards and planted my hands either side of his waist, and just as he prepared for the expected wrapping up of his head I focused my weight into my arms, slid forwards further and planted down in a swift facesit.

Firmly in place I sat upright and slid my knees out on each side, bearing more weight down on his face that I could feel was trying to move from one side to the other beneath me to secure a channel of air. Not expecting another smother so soon he hadn’t taken a deep breath to replenish the stores for his oxygen hungry body, and was instead already feeling a burn in his lungs.

The movement of his head was to no avail. I had been blessed with glutes that curved naturally into what had been described as an eye catching bubble butt, and I had learnt exactly how to use that curve to my advantage on the mats. He could turn his head side to side or up and down as much as he wanted, there was no way without surrendering to me or unseating me that he’d get a single breath down there.

But the dynamic was already in play, he wouldn’t unseat me, he wouldn’t use that superior strength to lift me off, he would endure the position, experience the burn and the primal panic, the feel of my increasing weight (by grasping my shins and pulling down, using myself as an anchor to apply more weight), all until he could withstand it no more and finally submit. And that he did. His hand reaching up at the last second of his tolerance to pat my right thigh.

I lifted up and heard his deep intake of air, the breath he’d originally held had been spent beneath me on stifled groans and muffled moans, leaving his lungs empty and eager for a refill. I lowered once more as though to retake my position atop his face and heard him make a sharp inhale. I didn’t sit down but instead hovered, knowing from my position that all he would see above him, all that was his visual world, was the eclipse of my Speedo blocking the ceiling light above us and threatening to make his world completely dark and breathless once more with a simple lowering of two further inches.

I held this position until I heard him exhale the urgent breath he’d taken and instantly dropped, re-securing his face beneath and between my glutes. I held this for only twenty or so seconds before voluntarily rising, allowing him time to take a few breaths before - once again on exhale - I lowered, employing this technique in a chain of applications to both weaken him and affirm my place in control.

I was happy at this point, as this game of sit-upon-exhale played out, that smothering had played an ample and effective role in the introduction to the match, planning next to transition to restraining holds that would bend him and use his size against him.

But that would be for round two of my time in charge.

Another short story that came to me this morning :)

Begins:

I was already half awake when I felt my boyfriend stir, rolling towards me to curl an arm over my shoulder. It was only the third time he’d stayed over, the plan to catch up for food after work lovingly evolving to a full evening together and him staying the night, pre-hanging his shirt up on the door before bed to wear again the following day. This manoeuvre into big spoon had already become a habit of his that I was fast becoming attached to, this morning however it would be different. This morning I would learn he liked to wrestle.

“You awake?” he whispered, his left arm finding its way between my shoulder and the pillow to slide under my neck, his right now wandering beneath the duvet to find my chest and stomach, his fingertips feeling their way to the waistband of my briefs and now tucking under my t-shirt, exploring their way back up to lightly stroke my chest.

I didn’t answer verbally but entirely against all my will I gently shivered at the amazing feel of his bed-warm touch. Even without, he could probably feel my heart racing.

A light kiss brushed against the back of my neck, before his lips moved to my right ear, his stubble grazing my skin as the arm that had slid to be under my neck now curled up and wrapped around it, pulling me into him and applying a light choke whilst his other hand continued to stroke my chest “Yeah, you’re awake” his tongue found my earlobe “Fancy a wrestle?”

My eyes opened wide in surprise as his arms gripped me fully and he rolled on to his back, pulling me on top of him where his legs worked their way from under the duvet and wrapped around my own. He arched his back a little and I felt my body simultaneously stretched and restrained as he held for a few seconds then relaxed, but kept me wrapped up, his height advantage working all the more to his benefit.

With his legs securing me in place his arms uncurled and slid up to lock over mine at the shoulder with his hands behind my head. Again he stretched, this time pushing forwards lightly for the nelson to take effect and held it there, my legs starting to kick to break free but his legs tightening around them in reply. His breaths were getting more excited beneath me as he arched his back again, holding it this time and extending further until I had no choice but to submit. He relaxed and held the nelson in place a few more seconds, then unlocked his legs and released my arms, sliding from under me to quickly secure me on my back with a firm hand on my chest.

It was autumn already and dark outside, the only light available to us in the bedroom was the light blue from my digital clock display, but it was more than enough for me to make out his handsome features, and to see that he was looking directly down into my eyes. He moved as if to kiss, I raised my head in response, but his lips only grazed lightly then he pulled away and with a laugh in his voice I heard “Not yet”

He moved along the bed, took my legs at the ankle and pulled me down.

“If you want to kiss my lips you better kiss my arse first”

My heart exploded - I wanted to retaliate, I wanted to feel the challenge of his strength as he got me back under control - but I didn’t want to break his train of thought or interrupt his plan. I was still reeling that he was a wrestler, and now he was into this!

He moved up the bed beside me on all fours, a hand back on my chest to keep me in place (as though I was ever going to move!) as he turned above me and moved to straddle my chest, my arms pinned beneath his legs. The dim glow highlighted his glutes and back before he settled down and my world went dark, buried in his ass as he first settled, lifted back up, then settled back down, moving his hips to wriggle me deeper.

I heard a relaxed breath from him as his hands went back to exploring my chest and stomach, his fingers lightly stroking my skin, sending shivers through my body, my leg hairs standing on end. I felt his glutes flex and relax a few times - was that to taunt? To move me deeper in? - either way, it felt amazing, but my lungs were starting to burn, I didn’t want to break free, but I did need to breathe.

I reluctantly tapped the bed as best I could and he lifted slightly, enough for me to breathe but just enough that his cotton briefs still touched my nose. There was a heady mix of night-before shower and his own natural masculine scent with each inhale.

“Where's that kiss?” he commanded, and I complied without hesitation, raising my head to first kiss the left and then the right side

“Good boy, now, deep breath” he ordered, lifting each leg in turn to free my arms then on full inspiration he settled back down, this time his hands abandoning their stroking exploration to take hold of and part his glutes, burying me fully in their thick, curved depths. He settled back, I felt more of his weight upon me, and instinctively I squirmed again, the pleasure of the pin, the feel of his weight and the dominance of his words and actions causing excited knots in my stomach.

For close to a minute I held on without air, my legs rhythmically flexing and relaxing, sliding and kicking, my hands moving up to grab his glutes, feeling their fullness and shape, padding and vainly pushing at them, feeling the way they moulded perfectly to seal my face between and beneath them. On my breathless tap he lifted, his briefs again upon my nose as I gasped lungfuls of air

“That was” I breathed “Oh my god, that was amazing”

“If you liked that” he said coolly “You’re going to love this” and with a tilt at his hips he leant forward, his legs moving into action to circle and coil around my head, drawing me helplessly between them and back face-first into the glutes that now flexed to welcome and secure me. His thick legs locked me in place and I felt a building pressure as he applied a long, slow squeeze, drawing it out as one does for pleasure, not for submission.

Just as I reached the limit of what I could take of the crush they expertly delivered and was about to reluctantly signal my surrender, the constriction slowly eased, holding me in place a moment longer before the legs that had been in a figure-four now shifted to straight leg.

He rolled to his side, taking me effortlessly with him bound in his scissor grip and reached down, his hand on the back of my head as his legs temporarily parted and he pulled me higher still between them, re-lacing them around me and locking his legs at the ankle. He raised himself on one elbow, relaxing as he set about demonstrating his control of his muscle and strength, building the pressure, maintaining, building further, holding, and then at the point of a tap releasing back to 10% of what they could deliver. I’d known guys I’d met for matches do this before, this was to sap my strength, and I’d loved it. Every. Single. Time.

I moaned with every building pulse of pressure. The sensation was incredible, and my vocalisations spurred him on, I could hear in his own groans and breaths that he too was loving this.

With a prolonged squeeze, this time leaving me no choice but to submit to him, he released the hold and quickly flipped around, using his legs to ensnare my head now in a forward headscissor, my face pulled deep into his crotch by the grip of his hands once again as his ankles re-secured the hold and that rhythmic squeeze and release continued.

With this biceps flexed, his back arched and his legs outstretched he squeezed me back into repeated submission, my hands first grabbing his thighs to part them but rapidly distracted to the role of worship by the thick musculature I could feel rippling and working beneath his taut, hot skin. I tapped them urgently when I could take no more and he eased the crushing pressure, pulling me now into a figure four as he relaxed, the physical weight and shape of his thighs holding me easily against his crotch.

We rested for barely a minute before he slowly released me and moved to be beside me, easing me on to my back where I lay with my eyes closed, smiling widely, my memory fiercely recording every second, sight and sensation.

“Shower time” he declared, and I finally got my kiss before I felt him lift from the bed and head off to the bathroom.

It's been a LONG time since I last wrote anything, I could feel the rust in my fingers as I typed, but this came out of nowhere to me this afternoon so thought I'd post it. Any feedback always welcome :)

Story begins:

It was the final night of my short city break when on impulse more than habit I logged in to the wrestling personals site to check the latest forum, photo and video contributions. My day was done, I was ready to get lost and let my imagination run wild in the world of wrestling that I was still so relentlessly drawn to. I was on my second page of newly added content when an alert that my profile was being viewed popped up. The dopamine rush was welcome, I’d seen this man's profile when I’d logged in on arrival, but was too intimidated to be in touch - there was no way he’d be interested in me, his profile read of skill and competition, he was also taller and had a stone in weight on me, all muscle. Moments later another alert, this time a message, and it was from this guy! I opened it readily, he wrote that liked what he saw, he recognised I was new to the area, and was interested in a meet.

We chatted back and forth a little where I gave the reason for my visit and the unfortunate deadline that came with it. I’d be gone come morning. It wasn’t a problem, he could meet within the hour.

My usual style of writing for a while to better know the guy I’ll be rolling with was cast aside as the body and action pics poured through now the meet was arranged; the vibe was established and there wasn’t a chance in hell I was missing this opportunity!

I gave him the address and set about squaring up the hotel room, the act of setting aside the humble furniture and sliding the mattress to the cleared floor almost now the action of muscle memory than plan and execution.

The wait for him to arrive was full of excitement, I found myself refreshing the page every minute so as not to delay receiving the message of his arrival. Eventually it popped up, that same rush returning, and I headed straight down to reception to meet him.

As soon as our eyes met there was a spark, his photos didn’t do him justice, he was even better in person. His casual clothes of jeans and t-shirt fit snug to his frame, and mentally he was already undressed to his wrestling gear before we even shook hands and I invited him upstairs.

We exchanged pleasantries and thanks for the availability as we made our way to the room, and both visibly relaxed once the door was locked behind us. The outside world was gone, the room was now the arena. I’d been working hard on my fitness for a few months now, and though there was a lot of improvement to come I could tell he was appreciating the effort as the casual talk continued and the clothing came away. Time was already against us, but we were keen to collide and get tangled in each others limbs.

We’d agreed to start from kneeling, so took our positions at opposite ends of the mattress. I absorbed a full top to toe view of him as I walked around him to take my place on the far side. Broader shoulders than mine that tapered down perfectly to the bubble of his ass that he promised he’d use to pin me later and from there to a pair of thick thighs and defined calves. The running, cycling and hiking he listed as doing for fun had clearly left their mark.

The plan for a light roll with holds exchange meant we had ample space before us, we smiled and moved towards each other, I instantly lowered myself - it’s the instinctive jobber in me - as he raised higher and went to grab my head. I dodged it easily and managed to secure my arm around his neck, taking him to the mat where his strength instantly became apparent and he raised back up, taking me with him and breaking the hold, locking his own stronger arm around my neck and taking me down instead. He looked me in the eyes and smiled, a cocky “as if it would be that easy” smile, and brought the headlock in a little tighter. I struggled against it but instantly loved the feeling of power and control he was exerting.

He shifted now, loosening the hold but keeping me in place as he laid on top, lifting up and crashing down twice - using his extra stone of weight to his advantage. I acted winded, but the rush I got was unreal. His hands found mine and our fingers intertwined as he stretched my arms out above me - his pecs parallel with my eyes - then slowly, deliberately, moved up to make a seat of my chest, resting his knees either side of my head and drawing his legs together, his ample thighs now securing my arms as he released my fingers from his and sat up, inching forwards so now his speedo clad crotch rested on the lower half of my face.

He grinned down and mockingly wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, feigning effort and exertion, sweeping aside his hair as he did so.

I struggled but it was in vain, his perfectly applied weight combined with the sexy smother he was applying meant I couldn’t shift him, and my exertion only caused me to have to breathe harder. I tried to swing my legs up to grab him - this had worked for me numerous times in the past - but he was no stranger to this retaliation, and moved as if to grab them. I knew that would lead to a roll up, landing me in greater trouble and burying me deeper in his already-increasingly-hard-to-breathe-against package so I lowered them and gave him a mock scowl which only made him smile wider.

“Give it up, jobber, you know you’re pinned”

I struggled once more in defiance, then tapped one of my hands against the other, his position had conveniently placed my hands with the back of one against the palm of another for just this occasion. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Good boy, that’s what I like” he said as he climbed off and I took a deep breath, taking a few seconds to recuperate - and relive the memory of the pin - before rolling to my front and getting back to a kneeling position.

He smiled at me as he edged back towards his side of the mattress as he said “If I’d known you’d be this easy, I would have just told you to lay down”

That was it, the heel streak I have was ignited.

We moved in again, neither of us this time trying for a headlock but instead slowly circling, he moved as if to grab my arm and I pulled back, shifting my centre of gravity which was entirely his plan, he quickly lunged and wrapped his arms around my chest, taking me backwards to land on my back and him crash on top of me. The ignited streak was quickly extinguished.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and went straight for a body scissor, rapidly applying the squeeze but the grip of his arms already tightening around me was too much and I released, him now moving to straddle my legs with his to contain them. He gave a light grunt and brought his arms in tighter again, the pressure on my ribs felt incredible but this - combined with his weight pressing down - was already making breathing an issue. My opponent that had been circling with me fifteen seconds before was now a hot, human vice clamped tight around me and working to break me down.

I put all my focus into breathing, trying to keep my chest as expanded as possible as I gasped a breath, but he knew the pattern, he knew how to work me, and he closed that little bit more each time.

“I’ve got you jobber” he whispered now, maintaining the tight squeeze around me with arms that now felt like bands of steel “You’ve already stopped squirming, I know you’re mine”

I worked to take another quick breath, and the arms closed half an inch closer again. I could hear the smile in his voice as he continued “Submit to me, boy, there’s no escape, there’s not another breath without my say so”

I held on for as long as I could against the grip, the burn in my lungs, the feel of his weight upon me, the determination in his strength - but I had to give, had to reach around and tap his back. The solid constriction eased on my surrender. He released the grip slowly, and I felt my ribs ease back to their usual position, not realising in the high of the hold and domination just how tight he had me. This man was a force, I’m so glad I’d logged in!

He lifted up but this time kept me on my back, resting to be sat upon my legs. He looked down and smiled widely, pleased with his work, as he moved first up my body then around to be above me.

My stomach filled with butterflies, I knew what was coming.

He knelt facing my feet, his knees either side of my head, as he lowered himself down on top of me and worked his legs to scoop up my head, drawing it willingly into the incredible valley of his thighs and glutes.

Purposely, with slow and perfect precision, I was manoeuvred into the first stage of his signature hold, his legs expertly coordinating their attack to wrap and trap. He locked me high between his thighs, gripped my wrists with his hands to restrain them, and slowly extended his legs, building the crushing pressure around my skull until I had to tap. The hold was maintained upon my submission but the pressure eased as his legs bent again at the knee, only to build back up to extension and re-apply their crushing grip. I held on longer this time, but it was only seconds more before I had to tap again, my hands tapping the mattress.

I couldn’t hear it as his thighs covered my ears, but he chuckled lightly and repositioned his legs as he kept my arms restrained. His right calf pushed against the back of my head as his foot locked behind his left knee. The new trap was set. My submission already foretold.

But it wasn’t going to be given yet, it wasn’t going to be ACCEPTED yet, this was his goal, this was his prize, the prolonged squeeze and smother of a jobber’s head, the complete ownership of another man in his hamstring prison, the time and space to play at leisure with the sub head made of me - to squeeze, hold, and release at will.

His left arm was already locked firm around my throat as I felt his right snake into position to secure the immobilising choke, shifting his body behind and beneath me to free his hither-to mostly idle legs and coil them around my waist, a soft groan of pleasure travelled upon warm breath against my ear as my hot, exhausted, sweating body settled between his eager thighs and he slowly, casually, crossed his feet at the ankle and stretched his legs to full extension.

Thighs which were already firm to the touch began to take on a new, ridged shape and purpose as thick muscle forged from devotion and discipline set about transforming from flesh to what felt like living marble.

He groaned again, that same pleasurable moan, his sweat-damp head beside mine as he brought his lips close to my ear and whispered “Squirm for me”, ensuring this demand was met by cranking up the already crushing pressure building around my waist.

One feeble hand pushed against the thigh which was slowly squeezing in my right side, but it didn’t budge, and I heard a small laugh from behind before he rolled on to his back and his legs shifted, keeping me held firm but now encircling me, cinching in my waist as they formed a figure four bodyscissor.

He let the thickness of his legs and natural tightness of this position work their squeezing magic, before he began slowly flexing and relaxing his thighs and calves, causing rhythmic, pulsating waves of incredible pressure.

“You’re locked deep in my coils now, boy” he whispered, the tip of his tongue gently touching my ear as he licked his lips “There’s no escape from this”.

The sincerity in his voice grew as his legs - did they never tire?? - began to squeeze down in prolonged bursts, bearing down and forcing me to involuntarily groan from the rush of air that my weak attempts at flexing my abs, my last defence in this position, created.

The groans soon became chokes as his arms began to match the pulsing rhythm of his legs “I’m going to squeeze you limp” he promised “I’m going to take my time crushing you and sapping every last ounce of energy you have” a prolonged squeeze now, equal parts both scary and exhilirating, I moved to tap, but the pressure eased just enough to bring me back from that brink “Don’t tap, I’m not letting you submit. You’re mine”.

((Thank you Zivolo for your preliminary and ongoing feedback with this 😁))

“Pick your pressure, Princess” my opponent mocked as he turned to catch a glimpse of my expression whilst I worked to resist a prolonged squeeze from the thick, granite-hard thighs currently locked tight around my neck.
“You want it enough to hold you locked in? Or enough to make you pass out?”
I don’t know quite how, but the overwhelming force his thighs were already delivering - some of the strongest I’d ever experienced in my years of wrestling and scissor-subbing - actually cranked up a notch, causing my face to contort and, unseen to me as my eyes reflexively closed, causing his face to smile.
In this reverse headscissor position, a manoeuvre which my opponent happily confessed was a favourite of his to apply, I found I could barely stretch my arms around his huge quads to perform the feeble attempt of my hands trying to scrabble and grip at whatever leggy purchase they could to try yet another exercise in futility of prising apart these thighs. I pulled with all the arm shaking strength I could muster - but they didn’t budge, and instead all I got was more out of breath and to hear his pleasurable moan.
“I love it when guys try to escape my thighs” he near whispered “Do it again, I want to feel you struggle”
I felt his legs uncross and cross again behind me, shifting the lock from left foot over right to right foot over left.
Up until this point, with him laid atop me with his muscular weight partially pressing down to add to my entrapment, he’d been supporting his upper body on his elbows, but now he moved, positioning himself on to his hands, an immediate increase in crushing power came as the result of this minor adjustment and I squirmed and bucked but he refused to let me move.
“You didn’t pick, Princess!” he chided gleefully “So as your captor I’m picking for you, and I’ve decided you’re going night night” and with that, he raised fully on his arms, initiating a top-down chain reaction of muscular flexion that worked to rob me of consciousness: his traps flared, his back arched, his glutes squeezed and his thighs bore down fully on my neck. I witnessed this impressive spectacle from my arse-row view for only a moment, as within seconds, I was out.

I came to only seconds later, but he’d already moved to lay beside me, his head propped up casually on one arm, one huge leg - still hot from its efforts of locking me between and beneath it - lay draped across my abdomen; the weight of it alone enough to keep me in place and remind me precisely who was in charge this match.
“You’re back” he smiled, looking me over as my brain quickly remembered where I was, who he was, and what had happened “You did good, you held out longer than most” he patted my chest “But my legs must remain undefeated” he stretches the leg atop me out straight, flaring his incredible quads, the muscular definition catching and accented perfectly by the soft light of the bedside lamp that was our only illumination “So I chose to put you out. You need to learn your place good and early” and with that, he raised and climbed atop me, one mountainous thigh settling either side of my head, his weight coming to rest as he took seat slowly upon my chest, steadily displacing almost all of the air in my lungs “And that place is right here”.