davey123's blog

He knew that Davey could be rough. They had wrestled before and though basically he had always enjoyed the bouts, there had been moments when he really feared that Davey would completely finish him off. Davey was big. And he trained hard, simply to wrestle. One time he had lifted Mike off the mat and racked him until MIke could no longer even beg. Then he had dumped him via a devastating drop back breaker over the knee. Mike had been unable to breathe for what seemed like several minutes, but was probably only thirty seconds. Davey had simply stood over him with a light smile on his face, and when Mike had hauled himself up Davey had leaped on him and wrenched him into an excruciating camel that had Mike wondering whether it would be his back or his neck which would break first.
Davey was always a mean sadistic wrestler, and he had the muscle to completely control his opponent if he decided to. This time he looked serious. He also looked pumped in his dark blue speedos, and Mike noted the heavy swing of those massive thighs as Davey strode onto the mats. Davey looked bigger in the back and those triceps were as thick as ever. Mike could feel that strange leap in the pit of his stomach. Or was it lower. Mike knew that he was very resilient and could absorb punishment from just about any wrestler. He was fit and flexible too. He liked pain.....well, up to a point. But bouts with Davey were always unpredictable. Davey had certain holds that he always inflicted with ruthless concentration and seeming disregard for his opponents suffering. But quite often there would be something new too. Mike remembered ruefully when Davey had started adding the Sleeper hold to his wide vocabulary of submission moves. He had been gentle at first, but gradually had become wickedly efficient at clipping the hold on, with that big, hard-muscled arm sinuously snaked around Mike's neck, and then the other arm slipping down from the crown of Mike's head into the nape of his neck to clamp the hold on without mercy. Each time Mike thought he was dying as the pressure from Davey's hardening bicep bore into the side of his neck and he would quickly lose the sense of where he was, then peripheral vision would go and finally he would feel himself falling into blackness. Davey would let go a little of the pressure at that point just in order to apply it again. Death a thousand times. Anyway, that was some time back. There had been others. The Twister...Davey had been delighted with the way that stretched and arched his victim ....resulting in a neck crank, arm lock which ripped the chest muscles, a spinal twist that felt like you were being pulled apart, and with those powerful legs grapevining one of Mike's thighs generally it felt like Mike was trapped by some kind of alien muscle monster. Then Davey would gently stroke Mike's tautly stretched chest and abs and ask with a grin 'you wanna give yet?'. There was always an extra little bit of pressure added just before any hold was released. It was a hallmark of Davey's style, as if he was saying...'I could make it worse you know, but I won't, but remember this....'.
Anyhow here they were again. Mike closed in on Davey, who was difficult to read always at these opening moments. As Mike lifted his hands towards Davey's neck and left arm, with a rapid blur of movement Davey encircled Mike's neck in an iron hard grip and threw him from his hip, tossing Mike easily to the mat and hanging onto him so that Mike landed hard with Davey's 14+ stone on him, still held in a side headlock. Fuck. Fuck. Davey was so fucking strong. He was a bastard. He was a mean-son-of-a-bitch. Still holding Mike firmly in the side headlock, Davey grabbed Mike's free arm and thrust Mike's wrist into the waiting crooked knee, so that Mike's arm was at ninety degrees with the elbow being levered up under Davey's thick thigh thereby also cranking his shoulder. This was a hold-down move which MIke of course knew, but he could not resist the momentum of it. Davey was too strong. Davey's weight across his chest kept him firmly pinned whilst the bastard started working his shoulder and arm. To make matters worse Davey hauled on the headlock, pulling MIke's head towards him and doubling the effect of weight. Leverage. Simple really. Davey was an expert at leverage. Mike groaned and said 'no, never!' When Davey told him to quit. Davey shifted yet more weight onto Mike and started to crank on the holds. Mike's shoulder was already screaming with the torque being applied. But Davey, ever the sadist, took it just to the point which Mike could endure and then kept it there, pulsing the pressure a little. Mike took it as long as he could but it was too much within about forty seconds. He tapped on Davey's broadly muscled back. Nothing. Davey was not looking at him and did not respond. Well, he was looking at him, but just did not seem to register Mike's face at all or his tapping. 'Ok' Mike said, ' you got me, I submit.' Davey then focussed on Mike's face and said 'oh no lad, you have a long way to go yet before I let you out of this'. Oh shit. He's in one of those moods.
Davey kept Mike in this shoulder busting hold for maybe another whole minute whilst MIke yelled, moaned, cursed, and alternated between tapping and punching Davey's back. He soon gave up any punching as that was met with vicious pressure crudely applied to his already torn shoulder. Suddenly, Davey mounted Mike chest to chest, and Mike felt those awesome legs grapevine his own putting unbearable pressure on his trapped legs and knees. Jeez. Mike knew how heavy Davey was, but always forgot the reality of just how heavy he felt when it was all on top of him. Davey promptly enclosed the whole of Mike's neck and head in his arms, with his chest flexing in a way that did things to Mike which he could not control. Davey was smothering him and clearly enjoying doing it. Mike struggled. He could not breathe and every movement he made seemed to result in Davey being clamped more tightly on him. Mike bucked and writhed but it was useless. He started to plead for release. As usual he felt a rush of unbelievable electricity run through him at being forcibly subdued by this muscled brute, and also fear that he might actually be going beyond what he could endure.
The bout progressed. It was totally one sided. Mike felt exhausted. Davey had been inventively unremittingly plain mean. He had scissored Mike and had turned up the pressure long after Mike submitted, until MIke thought his entire rib cage would implode. MIke's ribs were sore after that....we would remember the sheer hardness of those hairy monsters which looked mountainously huge when he had been trapped in them. Then he had turned his legs over to work Mike's neck. He had pumped them until Mike had gone woozy and virtually passed out.
Now, this was the worst moment. Davey seemed to tower over him, his muscles glistening and swollen as he had Mikes ankles trapped firmly under his armpits. Only Mike's head and part of his shoulders was in touch with the mat. He was struggling violently, twisting his body up and from side to side. He tried to snatch hold of Davey's ankles, but it was useless. Fuck....Mike knew he must avoid being forced over onto his belly at all costs, but Davey already had one knee pushed hard into the small of Mike's back, starting to arch him mercilessly. Mike knew that Davey was playing with him. With the power of those legs and his torso Davey could flip him over whenever he wanted. Davey was nearly lifting him up entirely. 'Yeah.....you are gonna take it now boy...the most punishing hold ever devised in wrestling.....I am gonna ride you in my Crab, fucker.' Mike yelled defiantly, but he knew the inevitable would happen. This hold was Davey's absolute speciality. He always seemed to be able to manoeuvre an opponent into this, and when he did he would turn into a wicked pain machine, doling out spine breaking agony with ease. With a hideous surge, MIke was forced over onto his belly. Davey held him high, arched between Davey's wide stance. Mike could feel Davey tightening the grip on his legs and Davey's palms made contact with Mike's inner thighs, forcing them to spread wide. Slowly Davey sat into the saddle created by the bent lumbar zone of Mike's already-tortured back. He settled some of his weight onto Mike, which felt amazing to Mike.....how could those muscled globes of Davey's ass be so hard. Davey tilted his hips into the hold and Mike yelled his immediate submission. But he knew there would be no release. Davey was never satisfied with just a simple submission from this hold.
It took twenty minutes before a totally wrecked Mike escaped from under an exultant Davey. Those who doubt the power of this hold, should try it. But take care, friend. It is the most feared hold in all promission for a good reason.

I need some mat time. So many contacts and so little actual action! It's bad for the brain. My mind dwells on the details. Holds that are favourites. Scissors of course. Neck anglers. So many arm, shoulder and wrist combinations. That great Twister....such a hopelessly devastating hold to put your opponent on display with. Can remember how it feels being torn apart in it too. Don't care if I am in it, or dishing it out. Then.....there's so many ways to break a mans back. To force total subjugated submission. Love them all.
Hope that back is strong and ready for some brutal work. Twist him over. Step over. Hold him up high between my thighs. Keep his ankles held up high. Lower slowly and settle into his lumbar saddle. Lean back.....listening to the first moans - fairly normal sounding voice. Settle on him more, sinking some weight into the crab. Look round as he starts to struggle in the gruelling punishment. "Wanna give up?" The pitch of his voice much higher. "Aaaagh, fuck, shit, no. No way!" Smile. Lean back very slowly. Inch by inch. Crank it on and grind my ass and upper thighs into him. Feel him start to tremble. The inevitable...."yes, fuck fuck YES, I give!" Don't let go. Ignore him. Feel the sheer power of the hold. Go further back. Lift his abs way up off the mat. You know you are ripping him. You know he can't breathe. How long will you punish him. Sadism on the mat. He pleads. Begs. Don't let go.....not yet. He doesn't know how much you can make him suffer.

Auditions……Davey123

I suppose it was known from my days on the pro circuit that I was a fairly mean bastard, and maybe that was why I was asked for this job. It was quite casual. I had been working out as usual at the club here in the rougher part of the city where the gym had a full pro ring and had been talking about past experiences and matches with Andy who was a promoter. He was one of the more successful promoter-managers (he had been on the mats himself some years ago and really knew the business), and guys were keen to get in with him to get a good start and earn some serious money. Actually he had come up to me just as I was finishing my usual squats routine (I like to have big thick legs!) and said I was in great shape for a man of my years and might I be interested in a little proposition of his. Having no idea what he meant I said cautiously, maybe. I knew that Andy was quite an operator and I was not going to agree to anything before knowing what he really had in mind.
Turns out that Andy was looking for a new jobber for his small select group. I said straight away that I was too old to job and anyway had always been more of a heel. But he then explained what he had in mind. He had a short list of five ‘wanna-be’ types, from whom he only wanted to select one wrestler for his rota. Trouble was, how to decide which one to go for? Andy said he could have put them in the ring with one of his other guys for a test of some kind to see what they were like, but that he had found in the past that if he did that it always seemed to cause trouble in the group later when they would say that it had not been fair and there would be a kind of low level grudge lurking there which made for some awkwardness amongst the eight or nine guys who Andy managed. I knew why that was. Andy liked to get someone to really work over his new applicants to test their endurance and resolve in the ring, so that often it took these new guys days to recover from the beating they had received. If they then had to wrestle against whoever had tested them they were always looking for some revenge. Andy was a hard man, and he liked a newbie to be really tested and some of his regular wrestlers did not like having to be that brutal with a relatively inexperienced boy.
So to cut a long story short, knowing that I was a submission specialist and liked to really work a hold, he asked me if I would be prepared to test out the new guys and see what they could take. He would watch, but he also wanted my opinion as to how they were, knowing that the man applying a hold knows more than an observer about how his victim is responding. And he was right. So I thought, ‘yeah, what’s not to like….I get to put these poor sods in some nasties ,and make them suffer and rate the results’. What he didn’t say immediately but which emerged later was he had particularly asked me cos he had in mind that we would focus on one hold only and he knew what my speciality signature submission move was and thought it ideal for this purpose.
‘Good Davey-boy’ said, ‘what I want you to do is to Crab each man repeatedly until you decide he cannot go on.’
‘Fuck, are you serious? That is a very nasty thing to do to a new recuit…yeah some of them will have been crabbed before, but if I understand what you mean, you want me to test them to destruction??’
‘Yeah…exactly. Get it on and pour it on. Make sure they are taken to the edge and then keep it on some more. That way I really get to see who has got guts, strength of mind and body, flexibility, and who looks good suffering on the mats. It will be a good test and I know you love that hold so reckon with your weight and strength it should be a good way to explore the endurance level of each of them.’
So…here we were now. The guys were nervously milling around the outside of the ring and every now and then glancing at me wondering who the hell I was and why was I dressed in pro boots and speedos with a baggy gym shirt on. Andy seemed busy on the phone so I just sat on the outside edge of the ring with my arms folded to wait for instructions. Kept flexing my legs so that even the biggest of the guys could see that I was no little twinky.
They were a mixed lot, but one of them in particular caught my eye. He had a kind of arrogant air about him and I had already heard him being rude to a couple of the others, telling them they should not be here. At 5’ 8”, and I guess around 13 stone (83kg) he was I suppose 22 years old. Too young to know much. I could see, even in his loose track-suit, that he was well built, but it was the sneery defiance in his face and the very short blond hair which made him noticeable. That, plus it looked as though at some time in the past his nose had been broken. He saw me looking at him and sauntered up, deliberately swinging his legs in a muscular stride to show off and stood inappropriately close to me and said ‘hey old man, why don’t you shuffle off and go collect you pension…this is a try-out for new REAL wrestlers.’ I replied, ‘thanks for your advice boy, I’ll think about that, but first I have a job to do here.’ He smirked back and said, ‘what’s that, you gonna clean the toilets for us real men?’ I looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Na, but I might clean the floor with you, ya wee dafty punk.’
He laughed and said something offensive about me being a stupid old git, but Andy came up just at that moment and that seemed to cause him to lose his focus on me for a while.
Andy explained the ‘rules’ for the guys who were auditioning. He pointed at me and said I was gonna put each one of them in a punishing submission hold. He and I would rate their ability to withstand the hold. If they submitted I would back the hold off and give them a rest but then re-apply it for further submissions. There was a time limit of fifteen minutes per man. If they had to go out to throw up, the clock would be stopped until they returned to the ring (…that wiped the smile off a couple of faces). If they could not go on, they should just use the safe word, and we agreed that it would be ‘RED’. Short and memorable. If they could make it to the ropes, the hold would be released and they would then have thirty seconds rest before restarting in the centre of the ring. If anyone did not want to go ahead they could say now and just leave. They would be given the order in which they would be tested and should warm up for five minutes before, especially focusing on making sure their backs were flexible. Just in case anyone misunderstood Andy looked at them all and said, ‘This is gonna hurt more than you will ever get hurt in a real bout, but whoever performs best in this will be the guy I take on to represent. Anyone got any questions?’
They all looked a little dazed at this sequence of announcements, but no-one spoke until the cheeky lad said, ‘and who do we actually wrestle…is it one another?’. Andy laughed quietly, and still chuckling said, ‘Oh no Kevin, you are not wrestling one another….. it will be my good old mate here, Davey,…he will take care of you, don’t you worry’. Kevin burst out, ‘Fuck, you gotta be joking…this relic here – looks like he would have a heart attack if he had to get out of bed….!’ Kevin looked at the other four men, waiting for them to join in with his laughter, but they either looked at the floor or just looked totally impassive. His laughter died away.
I shucked off my gym shirt- which was a big loose one, and said to the mouthy lout Kevin, ‘Well I guess you just volunteered to go first lad, if that’s alright with you Andy?’ Andy smiled and nodded and said, ‘yeah…..please go ahead. Get yourself ready Kevin.’
Kevin smiled at me superiorly, as I flexed a little. Then his smile left his face. I had been working out hard for years and the hard, thick muscle on my physique had taken a lot of effort to develop. I was not big-big at 14 stone 4 lbs (91kg), but I always looked much bigger without my shirt on. My chest was broad and well developed and even from the front you could see my heavy lats. Arms were, I guess, around 18.5 inches. I had a light covering of dark hair on the front of my torso that I kept clipped. With my shirt on unless you looked closely I looked like Mr Average, but with my shirt off I did not look like that. Kevin actually gawped. ‘Shit!’ he said quietly.
‘C’mon now Kev lad. Let’s get going here,’ said Andy. ‘Get your track suit off and up into the ring please.’ You others can watch or go and start getting warmed up. Oh…just one thing I didn’t tell you. The hold you are gonna be put in is the full Boston Crab. We chose it because Davey here reckons it is about the most punishing hold there is in the pro game if someone really uses it and there is not much risk of injury compared with some others.’ A couple of guys nodded and the others looked serious and glanced at one another. Fifteen minutes of being tested in a Boston Crab. Anyone of them who had ever been in that hold before (and they probably all had, even if it was just with a mate) knew that this was gonna be a gruelling test.
Kevin was ready and I must say was looking good. He had the look of a gymnast about him, with very developed arms, chest and back and very clearly ridged abs. His muscled writhed and tensed in coordination as he climbed into the ring. Like many guys of his height he had good flared quads and nicely rounded calves too. Presented a pretty picture. Virtually hairless, I just noticed a dark line emerging from the top of his speedos snaking up the centre of his abs and then spreading and thinning out just on his lower chest. His thighs only had light blond hair, but around the tops of his short amateur style wrestling shoes in the upper ankle area there was thicker darker hair. He had dark navy speedos on that were very nicely cut to show off his large rounded legs. Very nice indeed, I thought. Pity I am gonna have to really hurt this proud, mouthy young athlete. His blue eyes now looked slightly less confident, as I jumped up into the ring.
‘You ready?’ I asked him as he was bending over backwards, flexing his spine and at the same time not managing to resist the urge to show off, so he was flaring out his lats and tensing the ridges of his abs at the same time. If that was supposed to impress me in some way, well maybe it did a little, but it was not going make any difference to what was about to happen to this neat little package of muscle.
Andy called out, ‘time starts as soon as you are in the hold’. ‘Ok boy,’ I said, ‘lets do this…remember if you want to me to stop and finish you yell out ‘RED’ nice and clear’.
Kevin tried to smile,….. ‘there’s no way that’s gonna happen, fuck-face’.
‘You just signed your own death warrant boy’, I replied and immediately grabbed his legs by the ankles and yanked him off his feet in a very undignified swift move causing him to crash backwards onto the mat. ‘Whaaaaa…. hey……go easy mister….oooph’. I then shifted my grip on his legs so that his knees were tucked deep into my armpits which enabled me to lift him way up high with only his hands and head touching the mat. My extra couple of inches of height made a difference. I already had a knee firmly planted into his back and though he was strong it was only a couple of seconds work to turn him and step over him. Now I was ready for the first trial. Without sitting, I lifted him up high under me, in between my legs which were grazing the his lats, I had a good firm grip on each of his legs with my hands on his inner thighs. I dangled him there with his strong young muscular frame arched underneath me,…….he only made a couple of quiet sounds with the effort. I shook him a little in this position and made sure that his back was flexing by bouncing him a little…..still without sitting. It was a great view, with his glutes flexing like mad and all the little ‘Christmas Tree’ muscles of his lower back standing out invitingly as they also flexed erratically. Keeping his legs held up high I then came down suddenly and very hard on his lower back, and immediately started to lean back into the hold, braced firmly through my thighs on my wide-spread feet. I was going to teach this cheeky fucker a lesson he would never forget and didn’t really care if he passed out in the process.
The Crab can be anything from mildly uncomfortable to totally, blindingly, sickeningly, suffocatingly agonising. I was going for the full effect immediately. If you sit and grind your arse and hips into the saddle shape of the small of the back and really push your legs out so that you can crank the victim’s legs back, you can make this hold devastating. Believe me I know, I have been in it many, many times and have applied it, for either wearing a man down or for a quick satisfying victory, thousands of times.
Kevin literally screamed as I yanked him into the full hold and rode him. I felt his back go into a spasm of muscled stiffness as he instinctively resisted (which probably made it worse). ‘Aaaaagh, stop….please…fuck….RED RED RED!’ he screamed in falsetto immediately. ‘What, you giving up already?’ I said loudly as I bounced a little trying to sink even more weight into him…I didn’t want to let go, because I really wanted to punish him properly for his earlier rudeness. ‘YES YES YES,………aaaagh…fuck…my back…RED RED…..help!’ Underneath me he was trying to buck me off, but I had all my weight firmly, heavily on him and his efforts were useless though it was kind of nice to feel him struggle.
‘Awe, come on Kevin…show the lads how strong and brave you are, - come on boy, take it!’. I was sadistically grinding all my weight into him and enjoying hauling his thighs back. I knew it couldn’t last…..I knew it must be totally excrutiating and that if I kept this up I would risk injuring him, so I backed it off a bit then, but Kevin was rattled and didn’t seem to notice that I had eased it off. I felt his back muscles writhing under my glutes as he struggled furiously. He continued to scream, ‘STOP, STOP……please…..fuck you are breaking my back, REEEEED!!’. I think Andy was a little nervous cos he then called out to me, ‘Ok Davey…..you got him, let him go.’
I threw Kevin’s legs to the mat in disgust and stood up, still straddling him but decided to drop my weight onto his back as a farewell gesture to knock the air out of him, crunching down onto his middle back just at the level of his lower ribs. It had all taken less than half a minute. Kevin moaned and rolled onto his side clutching at his back with one hand. He looked pretty as a picture with those abs pumping in and out as he tried hard to breath again.
‘NEXT!’ I yelled.

The Basement

I found the place without much trouble, though I still felt a little nervously freaked out by the whole thing. What was I getting into here? As instructed I entered through the side door. I found myself in a sort of smallish hallway. There was a note. "Get changed and leave your stuff up here, the black door on the left leads down to the basement. I am ready for you down there." There was a small towel and a water bottle. I felt more nervous now. No chat. No smiling face with an offer of coffee or anything....should I leave?
No. If this guy was anything like he was in his pics I did not want to leave. More than that if he wrestled the way he said that he did I really wanted that. There was a vague stir deep in my balls at the thought.
I shucked off my trainers and jeans and stripped naked. Speedos or singlet? All his photos were speedos, so I guess I better go with them. I pulled on my dark blue pair which framed my thick legs nicely and self-consciously did a couple of deep knee bends, rotated my shoulders a bit and stretched my pecs which were still just a little sore from my workout yesterday. Fuck it, I thought, just get on with it.
I opened the door to the basement...it was heavy and solid. The steep descent of the stairs were immediately in front me but it was very difficult to see anything in the dim light from below that spilled upwards. I left the towel and water at the top and slowly went down....walls tightly enclosed the stairway on both sides so I could not see anything except the glow at the bottom and the stairs themselves. It was like entering a warmish tomb. Halfway down I became subconsciously aware of a smell which was familiar. It was the smell which wrestling mats always seem to have of rubber/plastic, disinfectant and man sweat. It was a smell I liked. I inhaled it deeply through my nose and smiled a little. This was familiar.
At the bottom of the stairs I stopped. There was a surprisingly large matted area ahead and seemingly all round me, with a couple of doors off at the far end. The light from overhead was very dim and so I peered forwards at the vague sheen on the mats....they looked clean and well padded.
Without any sound at all I suddenly became aware of movement from just behind me to the side of where the enclosed staircase finished and startlingly an arm slid all too expertly around my neck and instantly tightened. He pulled me tight back against his chest, with just a very slight quiet grunt. Adrenalin flooded through me and my hands instinctively went to his encircling arm which was thickly solid, - I could feel the striations in his forearm as he settled the arm more deeply into my neck. I reached further upwards and back for his face and found my hands on his beard which was above the top of my head. He was tall......about 6' 2". The face was big. His low, quietly calm voice sounded seemingly directly into my ear 'no way boy'. He was bulling me forward with irresistibly powerful strides using his knees to drive into the back of my legs with each stride he took. Using his free arm to brush my hands away from his head/face he then locked his arms up in the terrible embrace of a very powerful, unbreakable rear sleeper. I didn't have to either see or touch to know what was happening. He had his arms front and back of my neck, with his rearward arm bulging a hard bicep at the side of my head, capped by the hand of the forearm which held my larynx in its inner elbow notch. The hand and arm at the back of my neck were gradually pushing my head and neck deeper into this impossible embrace. I could breathe, but within seconds I felt my vision narrowing and it was as though my brain was entering a weird drugged tunnel. My hands were now uselessly pawing at both of his mighty arms. I was stunned by the quickness of his attack and I was excited by the raw animal lightly hairy muscular solidity of his arms. I could feel the sinews in his shoulders and forearms vying for primacy. His chest repeatedly flexed and bulged into my back.
All of this must have taken less than ten seconds. But if you have wrestled at all before, you will know that ten seconds in a serious wrestling hold can seem like half an hour. He had manoeuvred me into the centre of the mats and I sensed I was only seconds away from my legs collapsing under me as I started to sag towards unconsciousness. But then, he pulled me to the side, so that instead of seeing the doors at the far end of the mats, I could see that the side wall was covered in mirrors...floor to ceiling. If I could have gasped I would have, but in his tight hold that was not possible. Even in this light I could see he was huge. I am not a small guy, but his head was much bigger than mine. And so was everything else. His big powerful shoulders were visible above mine and he looked as wide as a barn door....I could see the big flared lat muscles on both sides appearing behind my own body, and most impressive of all...he had taken a wide strong stance ( well able to keep me upright) and my eyes were drawn to the shockingly thick heavy power visible in his legs. Not just massive thighs but big rounded calves and beautiful thick black hair all the way down. He looked like a fantasy of male virility with the dark well cut beard framing the square face. I couldn't see the expression on his face. It was too dark and.........with a strange sliding feeling, I passed out.
For a split second I was totally confused about where I was and I had no idea whether I had been out for just a very short time, or what. But we were now down on the mats. I was sort of cradled by the man behind me...he still had his arms around me - they had drooped and loosened so they were sort of resting on my upper chest and back. I was leaning back against him and with one of his hands he was gently slapping the side of my face and the other was constantly stroking across one pec. I was completely defenceless. "C'mon.....you back with us?".......a light tweak of a nipple....."that's it boy, I had you then.....you ok?".
The warmth of his body and the complete muscle relaxation following his sleeper made me suddenly feel illogically completely safe. "Fuck.....you really surprised me....I....I dunno.....". He said, "I love to start like that, but we have a few hours to wrestle so no need for us to hurry. Did you like it?" Wow, he was direct...we had never met before, and he had put me out within a minute of us meeting and now he wants to know if I liked it??? I thought, honesty is best here so, " well yes, yes actually I did like it. Actually I loved it. But.....you don't get to do it for free...!". With that I surged forward and flung myself round still half in his arms, managing to twist round completely so that from my previous slumped post-sleeper position I was now sort of lying on him - my face virtually in his mid chest. "Ooofff! Fiesty eh?" Before I could do anything further his massive arms clamped around me hugging me into his chest with his hands locked together at my middle back. The insteps of his ankles located the pear-drop muscle on each of my thighs and with incredible core strength he did a sit up, slightly lifting my legs upwards with his and forcing my spine to bend back. I had seen this very unusual back breaker on a couple of YouTube vids but never used it or been in one, though I had been very impressed by the speed with which the victims on vids had tapped. Oh shit, oh shit. He was immensely strong and his torso flexed like iron. Everything was hard. Including an impressive bulge in his speedos which I was definitely aware of. As he pulled my lower back in towards his abs and lifted my legs a notch higher I was being bent in the most devastating back breaker. It was not quite as bad as a fully cranked Boston, but getting near it. I groaned loudly and convincingly (it bloody well hurt) and he lessened the pressure just a little to a bearable level....maybe. My face was buried into the base of his neck. I could not believe his power...that he could maintain this semi sit-up position with the strength of his abs and core. His torso was very lightly hairy.....just a thread of thicker black hair emerged from his speedos I had very briefly glimpsed when I had turned.
"Yeah." He said simply. "Gotcha. What was it you were saying about it not being for free? You gonna have to do better than that. You wanna submit? Quit? Say it for me boy.....say you submit." As he said this he was grinding his locked hands into my back and somehow thrusting a little with his hips which made the hold more punishing. "Give up....or I will break you!".
Well though I had not been in this hold before and though it was being applied by a man who was about three stone of muscle heavier than my fourteen stone, I was not about to give up without a fight. I squirmed, but pain shot through my back and my legs tingled - demonstrating the extent to which my back was being distorted. But I have quite a high pain threshold and the hold was turning me on to the point that I thought if he keeps this up, I will come. I wriggled again in his vicious torture grip and with the mind of a survivor reached up and started to press my thumbs into his eyes.
"Aaaaah.....you fuck......you dirty fucker aaaagh". Yes this was more like it, instinctively he let go of me to defend his eyes. I hadn't done anything serious...only enough pressure to make him let go quickly and that gave me a great opening. In the chest to chest position it was easy to grab him into a side-headlock. I cranked it with all my strength immediately and lifting my hips up drove my weight onto his upper chest. He immediately went flat back onto the mat, but I continued to haul his head up in the headlock whilst driving my weight into his chest. Very nasty...but he was a big brute and could take it I reckoned without cracking any ribs. One of his hands rested on my now tensed back, and with his other he started to try and push my face back to either roll me over or just persuade me to let go. However I brought a bent leg right up to the side of his shoulder and with one easy movement grabbed and shoved the hand that was at my face deep into the crook of my bent knee and secured that with my other leg, locking it off. Now he was in deep shit and I was gonna enjoy riding him for a while and cranking a few submissions out of him.With his arm cranked back in the salute position, cruelly bent back over my thick leg and the wrist/hand buried tightly and safely in my leg I could go back to cranking my headlock, pulling his huge head and powerful neck up towards my chest whilst bearing down on the arm. It is a murderous shoulder lock.
"No, NO, NO NO NO!!" he yelled in surprise. He was writhing and bucking around in the lock and starting to sweat. Big guys don't bend well, though he was surprisingly flexible...otherwise I could not have put him in this favourite submission of mine. But I didn't want him to quit too quickly. I wanted to punish him with the hold, and just enjoy riding him like this and of course to wear him out some. It needs careful monitoring of the opponent to get it just right. I listened to the stream of swearing and his breathing. Satisfyingly I heard the first moans of animal pain. " Oh.....ah....aaah, no, I can't....shit, go easy man, go easy!". "Well now", I said, "do you like this one big boy? Nice isn't it?".
"You'll pay for this, you bastard, oh fuck you'll pay. I will kill you when I get out of this....you are, aaaah, aaaah, no, no stop.....that's too much...!"
"What's that you're saying? You're gonna do what?".
"Ok,ok, take it easy, aaaagh your ripping my shoulder man!"
"So you quit then.....submit....SUBMIT???"
Silence apart from his quick breathing and low groans. Then...."no fucking way, I am not quitting to you cunt!"
Good, nothing better than working a big strong macho guy who refuses to quit.....I love it.
I had him locked in this for probably about three minutes and we had both started to sweat now heavily. He was cursing and bucking and constantly trying to flip me. The bicep of the punished flexed arm was rock hard and streaked with sweat making it so tempting for me to let go and just worship it for a bit, but.....no way. I was gonna here the words "I submit" because now my blood was up I wanted to make him yield to me and feel what it would be like when the fight went out of him and this huge muscled wrestler goes limp. One part of him was distinctly not limp, and it occurred to me that he was getting off on being punished like this. If he could take this much pain and like it, eventually I would lose the match, because I know I could not take what I was now putting him through. I could smell his sweat now - not unpleasant but a man's sweat as he is working hard.
Then without much warning he suddenly bridged way up, arching high and powerful and lifting me up entirely as he went. I tried desperately to control him and for just about three seconds we staying locked in this impressive high bridge with him taking both of our weights through his neck and head and then with a twist I was thrown over in a tangle and he was on top. Fuck. Oh double fuck. Shit. He was unbelievably heavy, and somehow had slipped my shoulder lock.

To be cont!

Part Two

His weight full length on top of me was amazing, that thickly muscular torso totally covered me and I felt briefly overwhelmed by his sheer bulk. He cupped my neck at the front in one of his hands, not really choking me, but ready to do that, effectively keeping my head down. His other arm grabbed one of my wrists and pinned my arm over my head to the mat. I could see his face, close to mine (so fucking handsome!) with a slight smile, "yeah.....now we'll see.....you are gonna pay for that shoulder lock and I am going to enjoy making you pay a high price, let's see what you are made of". He was breathing heavily and I could feel the movement of his abs on mine as they moved with his breathing. Of course I was trying to resist him so our bodies were flexing and grinding against one another.......he acknowledged this slyly with "oh yeah....you struggle boy, c'mon, c'mon show me what you got....!". Of course he was too heavy ( and fuck, strong too) for me to shrug off, but for good measure I felt him grapevining his legs around my calves - clamping his feet against my ankles once secured. He tightened the grapevine and I groaned and arched instinctively upwards slightly to try and lessen the pressure. But I was so turned on I thought I would explode....the feel of his massive rounded thighs flexing against mine as he drove into me to force me flat was almost unendurable. It was not the pain.
"Oh yes, yes...go on boy try and escape, that's it struggle as much as you like punk, you are going nowhere cos I have, p-l-a-n-s for you". He drew out that last word slowly with a wide smile on his face. The kind of smile that is vaguely sadistic but not monstrous. "No, no!" I rather weakly delivered, playing a bit of a role for him, but definitely trapped anyway.
"Lets see if you can take your own medicine", and with that his legs released and slid out of the grapevine and in one smooth movement he had me in his side headlock. I was shocked and out of my mind with amazement. It felt like I was being wrestled by a fantasy alien figure from a comic book. His chest looked huge as it heaved and glistened with the bulk of muscle electrically striating. The dim light showed the lightly hairy mounds of muscle and as he pulled me deeper into the headlock a tempting succulent nipple, pointed and firm, was dangerously presented to my mouth - did he want me to? No, I wouldn't take that into my mouth and flick my tongue round it.....I wanted to wrestle and for all I knew, that might put him off from continuing the match in one split second. But.....his arm around my neck was compressing my neck and holding me so tight I began to feel my head would explode, his arm was like concrete when flexed, but he knew what he was doing because instead of just keeping up a steady pressure he kept slightly releasing, so the huge bicep would soften before again turning into a canon-ball of round, peaked, mass which drove deep into my poor neck with his thickly rounded forearm on the other side of my neck forcing the compression tighter. "You like that?" he asked obviously enjoying my moans and curses. One of my hands was on his back, running over the slabs of muscle that were there, and in it's wanderings encountered for a brief second a trail of soft hair emerging from the middle of the back of his speedos and so different from the otherwise smooth hard ridges of shifting muscle. He was working to shove my other wrist captured by him into his awaiting monster of a leg, so that I would indeed be in the same hold that I had only moments ago trapped him in. I bucked furiously and wriggled and squirmed, - anything to avoid that wrist being buried in the crook of his knee. He actually laughed - laughed at my earnest energy and resistance!
"C'mon now....you can do better than that.....c'mon show me your muscle and power, - or are you just another puny wannabe?" He smiled and to my utter astonishment planted a playful kiss on my grimacing lips. It only lasted a millisecond and was more a demonstration from him that he could do whatever he wanted with me, than anything to do with passion, but nevertheless I moaned deeply and he chuckled in response. We understood each other. Fighting, - but with a sense of understanding that is not stated, or formed in words in the mind.
His side headlock and the weight of him on my lower ribs began to really drain me and I was slightly worried that any second a rib would crack, such was his weight - 110 kilos of muscled solidity, I just could not breathe. I yelped loudly and yelled a second time as he completed the hold and tapped frantically on his back as I thought my shoulder joint would rip. He instantly let all the power go out of the holds and sat slightly up, relieving some of the weight on my ribs. I lay back and groaned, "oh fuck, you got me" I said. With incredible delicate tenderness and still leaning into me he stroked the side of my face with his big hand and cupped the top of my head in his other hand.
"Yup", he said, "that's one to me.....so now you have to work hard!".
I already felt pretty shattered from the energy I had put into wrestling this huge athlete but there was no way I wanted to stop yet. He stood up whilst I lay there spreadeagled and re-charging my courage. Then he made his mistake.
He turned his back to me - and I had a rear view from the floor of all that worked out pumped muscle that I cannot even begin to describe, but it certainly put fire back in my belly. I scrambled and lunged at his ankles and yanked on them as hard as I could. Lucky for me he certainly wasn't expecting an attack as sudden as that and his balance was out....he toppled forward as I pulled his feet from under him and lifted upwards......he fell face forwards with a satisfying yell and heavy 'thwumph' as all that bulk hit the mat face down. I was on his back like a tiger, leaping up before landing on him as heavily as I could, wanting to knock the air out of him. Squatting on his back I knew I had winded him, and savagely I pulled his head as far back as I could.....his voice went up an octave or so with a groan that went on longer than usual, the pitch of his voice sirening upwards because of what I was doing to him. I knew I had to act quickly.......I let just a little of the pressure out of pulling his head back and grabbed first one of his thick biceps (what a handful!) and yanked it back over my squatting leg, then immediately the other. Oh yeah, yes, yes, yes! If there is one hold I really know how to work well (apart that is from my particular speciality) it is the Camel. And here I was, now in the seat of power, with this huge dude all nicely organised in this agonising hold. There were some things which surprised me. First, despite the impressive development of his physique he was very flexible. Within a couple of seconds I had him bent at an impressive angle - the whole of his wide flared chest up high and most of his abs off the mat. I could see his heaving torso stretched taut in the mirror, with the dim light creating shadows and angles amidst the muscles of his shoulders,chest and abs. His neck looked incredible as I pulled the head back, with thickly striated muscle taut as bow strings. The arms were fairly well back and deep in my hold, but he was so side I had to keep my legs much further apart than usual with this hold. I was driving my hips and ass into his lumbar zone and I could feel through the thin fabric of my speedos his back muscles hardening and shifting shape as he withstood the pressure - the muscles tighten by instinct in a Camel and it seemed that he had certainly spent many hours doing his deadlifts in the gym. I pulled back very hard and again at the same time drove my hips deeper into the increasing curve in his back. My hands were cupped around his chin and I was leaning back with my arms totally straight - it was like doing a seated row with the full weight stack. I used all my power on him....and there came a slow growl, long and low. His shoulders began to tighten and I knew he was going to try and pull out of it. But no way. He was mine for as long as I wanted - or until he submitted...and he was bloody-well going to submit. I would make him quit....several times before I let go of this hunk. I bounced just a little as a kind of warning and the hardening mounds of his shoulders relaxed. Mistake, mate...if you relax a bit then a second or so later I can arch you back even more...heh heh....I knew this was going to hurt him. I was going to take care of him, but slowly grind him into submission. He was continuing to growl but now in shorter kind of rhythmic bursts and I could feel his breathing getting faster. I settled into him and started on the trash talk. "Now we will see what those muscles can take.....oh yeah, - can you feel it big man? I have got you now and you are not going anywhere except down!". With this there was a heave of writhing effort under me and another pressurised moaning growl. I bounced harder on him several times and was rewarded with a moan for each bounce. "Ready to give yet man? You wanna give up....you want me stop...just say the words...c'mon say it.....quit, QUIT!!".
"Umph....nnn....nnn". A slight shake of the head (he couldn't move more than that) showed me he was defiant. I just slightly loosened the very tight hold on his chin, and instantly the words flew out of his mouth with a snarl, "No way! Fuck you!'. Ok buddy, I thought, you want it? You gonna get it. Shifting my squatting position slightly I leaned a little forward whilst taking great care to keep all of my weight on his back and him arched back, I swapped the chin hold for wrapping an arm around his jaw, and then I locked my arms in a Sleeper-type position, but for the moment, round his jaw not his neck. His rocking and writhing under me ceased for a moment as he realised I was tightening the punishment even more. Now my chest was pressed against his massive back which was pulled so far up it virtually formed a right angle with his hips and those uselessly powerful legs sprawled out behind me. It was amazing that he could bend like this and not have to submit.
I shook him tightly in the hold and commenced regular bouncing on him....I loved the moans that this produced each time. "Come on now...say it, before I really hurt you, - tell me you give up - all you need to say is yes and I will let you go". No sign of any submission though. I held him there and kept up all the subtle adjustments of the hold which can make it more telling on the victim. Every muscle in his abused upper torso was now screaming. I know that the pain that soaks into the shoulders alone can be devastating but his neck and back were suffering most, and even though he was immensely strong, with my 92 kilos on his back at this angle it was getting very hard for him to breathe properly. He was sweating as though he had been in the shower. It was running down the gulleys and valleys of the muscles of his back. How long could he endure this? He must have been in the hold for more than two minutes now......that is really an everlasting age to be punished like this. I certainly would have submitted to a Camel Clutch as extreme as this within seconds. I began to worry a bit.....I must not injure him...perhaps he was one of the macho few who just never quit. There was one more adjustment to make, just very slightly backing off some of the tautness in the chin lock I allowed my arms to drop into the position of the much-feared rear naked blood choke. Then I cranked that on and pulled the Camel as tight as my trained body could manage, powering my hips deep into his lower back just above the top of his speedos. One second...two,...three,......four.....is he still conscious? A small movement of my hips produced a moan - yes, still there. Five....six....then.......yes, YES! He was tapping urgently on my leg. I tightened the choke just a notch pushing his head into my arms with my shoulder and the tapping became frantic and he started to buck, good...he had reached panic stage. I let him go, slowly lowering that wall of weighty muscle to the mat, and pushing his arms forward off my legs where they had been bent cruelly back for almost three minutes.
I remained straddling his soaking, aching back, but kneeling so that there was virtually none of my weight on him. His breathing was rapid and he was moaning a little and I put my hands flat on the middle of that magnificent back and pushed gently. "Oooooh, you fuck!" was all he said. I used my thumbs to work some blood back into the tortured spinal muscles. "Oh, yes please, keep going...aaaaah" he said. Slowly I massaged him, sometimes using my elbow to lean deeply into the muscle tissue, working my way up and down the abused spinal erector muscles which on him were thick rope. After a couple of minutes he said "Ok, Ok...enough". So I rolled off him and sat to one side just admiring his recumbent shape and the beautiful way his fabulous legs emerged from the twin mounds of his ass. He rolled over and lay back. "Shit!" he said. "I have never been made to submit from a Camel before..loads of guys have tried but I have always been able to push out,....you are a strong bugger and you are so fucking mean. I love it!" It was clear from the pulsing shape in his speedos that he was more than sincere.
"But if you think we are finished then you are wrong boyo......I need some revenge and I am going to have it. Boy will you be sorry when I am thru with you punk. You have had your fun and well....I did kinda let you, because,.....well....I kinda like it. But......now it's my turn. Just give me a minute and we will go again. And look out, you have shown me what you like to dish out, so now I am gonna find out if you can take it too." He sat up on one elbow and smiled a genuine smile at me.....and in a friendly gesture stroked down one of my thighs. "Nice legs man!" he said and as before totally surprised and confused me by leaning forward and kissing the muscle of my leg, but this time long and lingering, as if it was a lover's mouth. Made my cock so hard I thought I would have an accident.

To be continued.

He looked up from where he had started to graze his lips across my leg and with a strangely shy smile asked "ready?". Oh yes, I was ready, but ready for what I thought, with my mind spinning and my balls aching.
With a blur his leonine athletic form moved with a speed I only associate with wrestlers half his size and I found my head trapped between those legs which exuded ultimate power and authority. My hands flew to them and pawed uselessly at the now pulsing muscle. His legs were awesome, hugely thick and seemingly totally invincible. I could not see anything because his head/neck scissor was an all encompassing affair where the mounds of muscle seemed to trap all of my neck and head all at once. In fact that saved me from instant submission - his legs were simply too thick to go neatly just around my neck. But it was still murderous. He was using a straight leg scissor which enabled those long levers to pump like some human hydraulic machine to a level of compression which made me think I was going to die. I tried to scream out, but all that emerged was a series of short panicky noises. I tapped immediately hoping my neck was not going to be broken first. He backed off the pressure some, but the bastard did not let go. He was re-organising. I tried to push the massive beasts off my neck, but the inevitable happened and he converted the hold into a punishing Fig 4 which seemed to envelop the whole of my head and neck with one heavy thigh partly resting on my upper chest. To complete the hold he trapped one of my arms under his side as he lay at an angle to me. Then he really started work.
He would pump the hold on tight, flexing his legs which made the muscle jump to attention and keep it there for about four or five seconds until I started tapping, then back it off, wait and do it again. I nearly lost consciousness as he kept this up for what seemed like hours but which was probably not more than a couple of minutes. I cannot tell you how many times I subbed. Each time he would back it off and wait, but never letting go. It was a kind of game.....he knew he totally had me,and was just demonstrating repeatedly that he could make me sub at any moment. His hands explored my body humiliatingly whilst he carried out this methodic torture. At one moment I would feel his hand resting directly over a nipple, then moments later it would sweep down to my throbbing speedos and over the tops of my thighs - then back again. I could hear nothing except my own blood pounding. At one point he rolled, so that I had all his weight on top of me with the Fig4 still held in place - the weight was astounding, I could feel him keeping his balance by holding onto the top of my thighs as he wriggled and ground his cock into my mid chest. I really could not take that and I think he realised by the pitch of the muffled yells and the frantic tapping on his ass. It went on and on. I think I either passed out or just sort of lost the sense of being in the present, because the next think I remember is him straddling my chest and gazing at me as I dopily came back into the present. He just looked at me. Not smiling. Just looking directly at me in the eyes. His hands resting on his own thighs as he kneeled on me in this straddle position. My head lolled from side to side. Then I was aware that whilst staying kneeling on my mid section he had leaned down over me so that his chest was gently in contact with mine and his hands either side of my head. He whispered into my ear, "I'm sorry....I'm really sorry....I went too far. I didn't mean to really hurt you....I just....kinda lost control....sorry, look.....please....are you ok...say something man....please...!" I moaned and said simply, "I submit". Though this guy was the sexiest wrestler I had ever met there was something in him that was unbelievably tender too - he gently caressed my head as he continued to whisper things which I could not catch in my ear. I reached up with both hands and tried to pull him down onto me but could not reach around that massive back.
"Fuck you", I said, "we are not finished and you are gonna have to do better than that you ugly bastard".
"Oh good", he replied, "you are ok then so here's your next treat ya gonna enjoy".

Scooping a prone man off the floor and directly onto your shoulder, requires incredible strength and I have no idea how he did it. But within moments I was in a single shoulder back-breaker, the weight of my own legs dangling in the air behind him bending me into a U shape. The only thing that prevented this from causing me a bust spine was that his shoulder was so muscled it made a mound of wide firm flesh for the small of my back - not the usual sense of having a blade forcing into my spine which I have had on occasion previously. His arms kept my chest trapped tight but as I raised my legs to try and lessen the pain in my back he gave a little shrug which jerked me back into fully extended agony. "Aaaagh, come on, stop. please stop. you won....aaaagh no, please...oh shit...fuck".
He replied in kind, by flipping me off his shoulder and letting me down, but on the way down he performed an expert drop onto his extended knee/thigh as he lunged onto one leg. The momentum of me descending from his shoulder onto his knee meant that my back cracked and I felt a shooting pain all the way down both legs.....the air left me in a whoosh. No sooner had I hit the mats as I slid off his rounded thigh than he grabbed both my ankles and lifted me high by them, tucked very securely under each of his armpits. Even though winded and in agony I realised what he intended. He was going to crab me. Oh no. Not that. Not with his strength and weight. Please God no! This was my speciality - there was no way this should be happening like this. Fuck no, NO!
"So you think you know how to work this one do you....I've seen your profile hundreds of times.....I know you use this, but today is gonna be different cos you are not dishing it out boy, you are taking it!."
"Aw, no, no, please no, my back.....oh stop.....I can't I just can't you're too big...no way, stop!"
With desperate panic I grabbed one of his thick ankles and wrapped an arm round it - I was virtually up-ended and any moment now he would be able to flip me over completely onto my belly then I would be dead. I have powerful legs and at that moment I tugged and kicked furiously and quite by chance, not by design one leg popped out of its imprisonment, and accidentally I kicked him on the side of his face. I hadn't meant to - it just happened, but it greatly surprised him and he let go and staggered a little. I crumpled to the mat but had the presence of mind to once again scramble for his legs and yanked them violently forward holding them tight. He fell back with a yell and I rapidly stood. Now the tables were turned.
'Yes, I said the Boston Crab is my speciality and now you are gonna find out just how special that really is." But turning a guy this big onto his belly is no easy matter. Since he was considerably taller than me, I could not lift him up vertically and just bull forward over him. I decided to use the only trick that would work on a guy of this strength and size. I let go of one his legs but turned the other one into a vicious heel and and calf lock driving the blade of my wrist into his Achilles tendon mercilessly. Instantly he started to arch up to try and get away from the pain and rapidly, using the torque of this lock, I turned him over. Cradling his trapped leg powerfully with both arms, I dropped onto his lower back and started to haul him back and up whilst driving my feet into the mats. As before, he impressed me with the extraordinary extent to which he could bend. But sitting deep into the saddle of his bent back I was demonically determined to get a rapid sub like this. And sure enough he yelled surprisingly loudly and clearly for the first time, "YES! I GIVE!!". That was exactly what I wanted because as I started to lower the leg which I had cranked he relaxed thinking that this hold was over. But I was only getting started on this beast. I kept hold of the leg I already had and reached forward and grabbed his free leg and then semi rising, drove back again into my seat on his lower back. A brief moment of adjustment and positioning my hands on each of his inner thighs the classic hold was completed.
"Gotcha!" I said. "Now you are gonna learn about the full crab and I am gonna give you a lesson that you will never forget". He gave a slight grunt and told me to fuck off twice. The hold was on, and I was firmly planted on the lower part of his back. "We'll see what kind of a man you really are now!" I said. And I started counting slowly. With each count I pulled him up a fraction higher, arching his abs gradually off the mat and holding him briefly in each position before advancing. I was tearing him apart, I knew how this felt and he was being ripped believe me.
When I reached "five" I paused. His groans had gone up in pitch. "You wanna say it yet boy?" I asked. He said nothing. "Can you take it big man......how far do you think you gonna get....will you make it to TEN? Or maybe you wanna give it up now whimp?" .
"No, no, I don't submit...I can take it, fuck off....you're the whimp here".
Ok then I thought, here we go. I increased the torque agonisingly slowly, counting methodically. We reached ten. He must submit I was thinking. No-one can take this. He was panting trying to breathe and that low growl I had heard before came back. He was right up in the air only his chest and shoulders now on the mat. I kept him there waiting for the inevitable with the seconds ticking by and his muscled mass shifting slightly under me. I could feel his shoulders seeming to bulk and knew he must be moving his arms.....he was gonna try and push up!! No way. No fucking way. I had stopped the counting but put all my strength and weight into subbing him now. But.....oh shit no, ........with a great roar he did push up! He literally surged upwards with inhuman strength and I was forced to flip forwards doing a front head over heels roll totally involuntarily. This had never happened before!
He was on me in an instant....raging with hot blood boiling, and muscles bursting covered in sweat. Before I had a chance to think he slapped me hard and then was behind me and those arms......those arms.....round my neck.....those amazing biceps and all of the power in those forearms and shoulders.
"Hello again sweetness!" he whispered into my ear. Then inexorably he tightened up and I was annihilated. It took only about four seconds and once again I slid out of this world, forced from the present into a different state by a wrestler who knew exactly what he was doing.
This time when I came too we were lying full length on the mat and he was spooned close into me from behind, gently slapping my chest. I lifted my head just slightly and he said "oh good - you're back - I was worried just for a couple of seconds there. Are you ok man?....I'm sorry about that....I nearly lost it".
"Mmmmm," I said and pressed slightly more into his form which seemed to exactly fit me from behind. "Round two?"

How does a Sleeper hold feel?
Somehow being trapped and held in a rear naked choke is a weird and wonderful thing. Maybe it is an acquired taste. Does it depend on who applies it? I don’t really know. Of course you can’t see the guy who is applying the hold. But I guess, knowing that he is powerful, muscled, determined, mean and strong with a body which is hard and solid makes it more of a totally overwhelming submission. You know, once he gets behind you and however he does it, you feel his chest against your back as he fights to get your arms out of the way of the choke, that you are going to go under. The end is inevitable, but you are determined to fight it as long as possible.
On top of you, flat on the mat, he has tight hold of one or your wrists but is using his weight to crush you. Trying to resist means that your other hand and arm is occupied pushing against the mat uselessly. You feel him sliding his hooks into position to control your hips and upper legs, this effectively lets him double the weight on top of you, already forcing the air out of your lungs. But worse than that, it means he can slide the blade of his free hand over your throat and begin to wrap it onto your shoulder, deeply encircling your neck with his thick, striated forearm. He is experienced…you sense this. He tucks your larynx deep into the welcoming crook of his elbow. This will not be a quick choke, crudely bruising your larynx and making you gag as your airway is shut. No, no. This, you already know, is going to be a blood choke, and already you can feel his bicep swelling and hardening against the side of your neck.
He wrenches his other hand out of the grasp of your hand. You can feel him thrusting his hips deeply into you to keeping total control, flat against the mat. He shakes your head a little – it is aggressive but also has the effect of removing any lingering looseness out of the encirclement which that brawny arm, with its hairy forearm, has accomplished. Now you start to beg instinctively, ‘no, no, please no. Please…. don’t put me out…please, no, no!’ But the reply that comes gives no hope, ‘shut up boy, you are going under now, I am gonna crush you into sleep, fucker’. He is now sliding his other arm behind the back of your head. You struggle furiously and the pair of you locked together roll onto your sides, which at least relieves you of his heavy weight – he is bigger than you and all that weight on you was both crushing and exciting. Instantly he changes his leg position to hook just one of your legs with both of his. This means that despite your struggles you cannot turn in the hold to escape. He clamps his powerful thighs down on your leg so hard that it makes you yelp, but you soon have something else to think of.
That arm behind your head is pushing past the back of your head, making the hold punishingly tight. You are trying to punch the arm which is now tight and hard round the front of your neck. It is so thick with muscle and so hard, that your punches have zero effect, though you keep pounding on the arm which is killing you so effectively. You can feel his breath on the side of your face and head, his mouth is right next to your ear. He is saying something to you, but you cannot take it in because your mind is now going to that place where it knows nothing but the pain and torture which this hold is inflicting on you. You are being taken over wholly by this hold and this man.
With a clunk his arm behind your head slots onto the shape of the nape of your neck and he joins his hand to his own bicep behind your right ear.
Yes. This guy knows how to apply this. Now with a surge of power he pulls you back so that you are lying on top of him, completely trapped now in the fully applied rear naked choke. He is tightening up powerfully pulling his shoulders back, and you feel his chest flexing against your back. Speech is no longer possible, but you mouth ‘no,… please, please, no, no’. All he hears is your contorted breathing. He is inexorable in tightening the hold. He will not stop until you are out now. You pull uselessly at the muscular coil of arms around your neck and marvel at how wonderful they feel, even whilst they deal out this weirdly exciting agony. Your peripheral sight is going. You have only seconds to go before passing out, but those seconds seem to take minutes. It is like coming with a shudder of climax…..the arrival of total unconsciousness. You are limp. Defenceless. You are overcome. You are completely at the mercy of the power of the man who has trapped you. You love it. It is wonderful. The warmth and trust and pain and ecstasy of this hold, of this moment. You have been forced to trust another man’s arms to hold you tight, to the point of this mini-death and now all your limbs and your whole body are softly held in his arms whilst he waits for you to come back. The moment of passing out is the most alive you ever feel. And it is also the thing which fills your loins with the most urgent lust and animal pump. Almost as soon as you are aware of your surroundings and can begin to re-orientate yourself, losing that fleeting sense of confusion and other-worldly quality you want it to begin again. You are aware of your hands lying loosely on his now relaxed but ever-powerful huge thighs, you run your hand over the muscle appreciatively. Now instead of being the brutal determined source of the hold which delivers total domination, your man is all concerned soft intimacy asking, ‘you ok?’. You moan and mumble back ‘Yeah’ even whilst remaining folded into his still hard body which instead of now holding you in a steel embrace, is warm and comforting. There is no place which is as secure as this. There is no way of being closer to another guy than to allow him, which is actually what you do, to take you over so wholly that for a few brief seconds you are unconscious at his demand. This is the Sleeper Hold. Brutal, effective, one of wrestling’s arsenal of devastating holds for overpowering and subduing and opponent. Yet somehow in the doing of it, bringing two men closer in intimacy and shared understanding than you would have thought possible. ‘Give it up boy…or I’ll put you out.’
Warning: If you have never tried the Sleeper hold, either receiving or giving, be aware of the obvious…that it is potentially dangerous. Best would be to find someone with experience who can show you safely how it is done. But in any case always make sure that you are not cutting off your opponent’s air. The larynx does not need to be compressed, you are cutting of the victim’s blood supply to the brain with your bicep and forearm at the sides of his neck. Properly applied you don’t need to squeeze much, just bring your elbows together and draw your shoulders back and he will go out in less than ten seconds. ALWAYS MONITOR YOUR OPPONENT CAREFULLY AND LET GO WHEN HE GOES LIMP! Usually he will come back round in as little as a couple of seconds, but if he doesn’t, elevate his legs so that blood flow to the brain is helpfully restored. Sometimes you need to give him a tap to bring him fully awake. The man may be temporarily confused about where he is and what is happening (which can be quite funny!). When it was first applied on me, I was totally astonished at how little pain there was and had no idea where I was when I came round. But now I am the one doing the applying usually. It’s a great hold, but be safe.