Page Wins (PG-13)

Mattdog vs. Page, Match 1

I had absolutely no doubt that I would win.  After
all, I’m bigger than Page, stronger, older and more
experienced.  And, of course, I’m a man and she is not
only a woman, but a pretty, feminine woman.  How could
a female with polished fingernails possibly outwrestle
me?

We approached each other on the mats and she held out
her hands, her thin fingers spread out, challenging me
to a test of strength.  She giggled as I arrogantly
accepted her challenge.  We interlocked our fingers
and her dark-painted nails dug into my flesh.  Page’s
sexy lips curled into a giggle as she tried to push my
hands and wrists back.  But I was too big and too
strong, and within a few seconds I had forced her
backward to the mat.  Quickly I tried to straddle her,
only to find her feminine flexibility and leg strength
posed a big problem.  Somehow she had pulled her legs
up to her chest and was now forcing her feet into my
face.

“Kiss my feet now,” she laughed, “and I might not hurt
you too badly.”

“You’re crazy,” I snapped, trying to pin her while
twisting my face away from her slim, sexy feet.  “I’m
on top of you, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

“Not for long,” she grunted.  With a sudden twist, she
kicked me off and I rolled to the side.  Our fingers
were still interlocked, and now Page was refusing to
release my hands.  She persisted in trying to rub her
feet in my face.  I began to get frustrated.  Clearly
I wasn’t going to pin her from this position, so I
jerked my hands from hers and rolled away, bouncing
quickly to my feet.

“Afraid of me, big boy?” she taunted as she
straightened her sports bra and licked her lipsticked
lips. 

“Not on your life,” I said. Before she could prepare a
defense I darted in and grabbed her right arm, ducking
my head under her shoulder, and wrapped up her right
leg.  Standing upright I hoisted the petite woman onto
my shoulders.  “Got you now, Page!” I shouted as I
began to spin her around.

“That’s not fair!” she shrieked, though I think I
heard her laughing.  “Put me down!”

“No way.  This is what you get for thinking you could
wrestle a man!”

“Oh yeah?” she replied.  “Well, this is what you get
for wrestling a woman!”  With that she reached down my
back with her free left arm and grabbed the back of my
shorts.  Before I could stop her, she had yanked them
violently upward, giving me a painful wedgie. 

I’m not sure exactly what happened next.  Needless to
say, though, I was forced to let her go.  Somehow I
wound up on my knees and I was reaching back to try to
remove the power-wedgie she had applied.  Page quickly
took advantage of my position by seizing both my
wrists from behind and planting one of her feet in the
center of my back.  Before I could resist she was
yanking my arms straight back and driving her foot
into my spine.  I felt like she was going to break me
in half!  She might be small and feminine, but her
hands are surprisingly strong: I couldn’t break free
from her grip. 

Soon Page had forced me to my stomach.  Now she was
standing with one foot on my back and pulling my arms
upward in a classic surfboard hold.  All I could do
was kick my legs vainly.

“Is the little girl hurting the big strong man?” she
taunted.

“Let…me…go…” I gasped.

“Aw, it sounds like you’re having some trouble
breathing.  Let me help you.” 

Thankfully, Page released my arms, which fell limply
to the mat with a thud.  Unfortunately, she dropped
her entire body weight on top of my shoulder blades.
I was unable to resist as she pulled my arms backward
over her knees and pulled my chin up, locking me in a
camel clutch.  She leaned forward and whispered in my
ear, “Don’t you wish you had kissed my feet earlier?”
I couldn’t respond because Page then placed one of her
hands firmly over my mouth.  My protests were muffled
in the feminine skin of her palm.  Again all I could
do was kick my legs.  Just when I thought my situation
couldn’t get any worse, Page pinched my nose shut with
the thumb and forefinger of her other hand.  I could
hear her laughing at my feeble struggles.  At first it
was simply humiliating to be helpless in the clutches
of a smaller girl; soon, actual panic set in as I
realized that I was completely and totally at her
mercy.  As I strained futilely to breathe, my vision
began to narrow.  I knew that I was about to pass out.

Finally Page released the hold and my head dropped to
the mat.  She rose from my back as I lay there,
gasping violently for air.  As I slowly regained my
senses, I realized she was now standing right in front
of my, one of her small feet inches from my face.  Her
toenails were perfectly polished.  “Ready to kiss it
now?” she asked, triumph in her voice. 

“No way,” I managed to grunt, my male ego outweighing
my common sense. 

“I was hoping you’d say that!” Page exclaimed.  “I
want to kick your ass some more.  Now get to your feet
and fight like a man.”

I tried to rise, but I was moving too slowly, so Page
“helped” me by grabbing my hair and pulling me up.  I
was unsteady on my feet as I looked down at her.  How
had this happened?  She smiled up at me, and I
marveled at her creamy white skin, her bright eyes,
her sexy smile, her curvy female body.  These were not
the characteristics of a person who could manhandle
me.  I resolved to change the course of the match and
reassert my male authority. 

Unfortunately, Page was not about to let me win, male
or not.  As I stepped forward she put one hand on my
throat and drove her other fist into my stomach.  It
wasn’t the most powerful blow ever, but it knocked the
wind out of me enough that she was able to force me
backward into the wall.  Holding me there with one
hand on my neck, she clawed my belly with the nails of
her other hand, laughing all the while as I struggled.
After a moment she tossed me to the mat. 

Straddling my chest, Page forced my arms above my head
and crossed them at the elbows, then held them both
down with one of her small hands.  Twenty minutes ago
I would have been able to power out of this hold
easily, but in my weakened state she was able to hold
me there.  With her free hand Page tickled, scratched,
squeezed, and pinched my arms, chest, nipples, and
sides.  “What’s the matter?” she kept asking.  “Can’t
get away from a little girl?”  I was utterly
humiliated.

“Please,” I pleaded, practically crying.  “Please,
stop.  I’ll kiss your feet.  I’ll do anything.”

“Of course you will,” she cooed.  “But I’m not through
yet.”  Page laughed and adjusted her position on me,
sliding her bottom down to my stomach and leaning
forward.  Her breasts, encased in her sweaty sports
bra, loomed toward my face.  Realizing what she was
about to do I squirmed madly, but she grasped my
forearms tightly with her slender hands and held my
arms straight out to the sides, pinning them firmly to
the mat so I had no chance to roll over or escape. 

Under different circumstances I would have welcomed
the opportunity to bury my face in this beautiful
woman’s cleavage, but not now when she was using her
breasts as weapons of humiliation and domination.  I
bucked and squirmed and struggled but she held me
tightly.  Her soft, sweaty skin and the damp bra
engulfed my face.  I could barely hear her laughing at
me.  Soon breathing was difficult as I could only gasp
in the stale air I had just breathed out.  I strained
against her with every muscle in my body, but I was
completely at her mercy.  My energy faded, and I
remember going limp.

When I awoke she was sitting beside me on the mat, her
legs curled up under her in a girlish pose. 

“Ready to kiss my feet yet?”  Page asked.