Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Sybil vs. the Mattdog (PG-13)

One of many stories about the great Sybil Starr.

The Rematch

It had a year since Mattdog’s brutal series of matches against the beautiful but cruel Sybil Starr. She had defeated him soundly every time, and she humiliated him more than once.  Now, a year later, Mattdog was ready to challenge Sybil once more.  He was now fifteen pounds heavier, at 180, and a year of exercise had made him hard.  Mattdog was fresh off a week hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail, so he was especially toughened, like the leather on his hiking boots.

As he and Sybil squared off in the ring, the contrast between them was stark.  He was all man and masculinity: hairy, bearded, sinewy, and rough around the edges.  Across the ring, Sybil Starr epitomized the feminine form: small, sleek, curvy, and polished.  In her bright pink bikini, which hammocked her soft breasts and barely contained her firm rear end, there was no mistaking her for anything but a womanly woman.  Her lips and nails were painted a light pink shade to accent her bikini, and her red hair was tied back with a pink ribbon.  

Their match had simple rules: the two would fight until one competitor could no longer continue.  Pins and submissions were meaningless.  It didn’t matter what the pinfall count was; when one of the two said, “I quit,” he or she was quitting for good.  One slight exception was that if either one was trapped in a hold that might cause permanent damage (such as a joint lock), he or she could yell, “Injury,” and the other would be obliged to release the hold. 

The two approached each other confidently yet warily.  Sybil lip curled in a slight sneer of contempt; after all, she had totally overwhelmed Mattdog on numerous occasions before.  So she was surprised when he lunged forward.  With his large weight and strength advantage, Mattdog drove Sybil to the mat hard.  She grunted in pain as she dug his shoulder into her abs, forcing the air from her body.  Despite her speed advantage, Sybil couldn’t react quickly enough as Mattdog straddled her chest and crossed her arms over her face.  Bouncing on her prone, struggling form, Mattdog yanked her thin wrists until she screeched out loud, her biceps smashing into her cheeks as he wrenched her arms farther and farther out. 

Sybil was about to shout “Injury,” fearing that he might dislocate one of her shoulders, when Mattdog abruptly rose from his position astride her slim body and pulled her to her feet by her curly hair.  Just as she found herself standing up, Mattdog combined a violent clothesline with a judo-like leg sweep and sent her to the mat hard, flat on her back.  Sybil landed with a thud and for a moment gasped silently as her lungs were unable to refill with precious oxygen. 
Wasting no time, Mattdog rolled the beautiful woman to her stomach and dropped his full weight to her lower back.  She yelped once more.  She couldn’t resist as he pulled her arms over his knees and grasped her chin and yanked her back into a camel clutch.  “Let go!” Sybil screamed. 

“Do you quit, little girl?” Mattdog laughed in her ear.  “You concede the match already?”

“No!” Sybil shouted.  “Injury!  You’re going to damage one of the vertebrae in my neck!”

Immediately Mattdog released the hold and let Sybil’s face fall to the mat.  Sweat ran from her forehand and cheeks and puddle beneath her as she gasped for breath.

“Get up,” said Mattdog, standing over her.  Slowly Sybil drew herself to her hands and knees.  As her male tormentor took a step forward, Sybil launched herself like a human projectile and speared him in the crotch with a flying headbutt.

Mattdog crumpled to the mat.  Despite the beating she had taken, Sybil was able to marshal her energies and take advantage of the situation.  Straddling the bigger man, she tried to lock on a body scissors.  Mattdog countered and prevented her from securing the scissors firmly.  The two jockeyed for position, rolling across the mat.  At first it seemed that Sybil was just seconds from trapping the bigger man between her lethal legs, but he kept forcing his way out. 

For fifteen solid minutes (an eternity when wrestling), the man and the woman struggled on the mat for supremacy.  Mattdog’s strength, especially in the upper body, and his weight were effectively balanced by Sybil’s speed and experience.  A year ago the woman’s stamina and cunning would have allowed her to quickly wear Mattdog down and subdue him, but now he had more endurance and general toughness.

Their sweat intermingled as their bodies strained against each other.  Every fiber and sinew of each competitor knotted and they groaned and growled.  Soon they began employing dirty tactics, with Sybil giving Mattdog a painful wedgie, and Mattdog trying to attack Sybil’s breasts.  Even those maneuvers couldn’t break the stalemate. 

At last Sybil lay still for a moment, panting fiercely face down on the mat.  Mattdog was on her back like a blanket, pressing his weight down upon her.  He had been trying, without success, to secure her wrists and control her powerful legs.  She had been trying to slide out from under him without allowing him any advantage. 

For a moment they lay together.  His mouth was by her ear; she could feel the warmth of his heavy breath.  “It’s not like before,” he whispered.  “I’m stronger now.  Now you’re going to see how a man puts a woman in her place.”

“You’ll never win,” she grunted.  “I own you.”

Mattdog licked Sybil’s ear tauntingly.  “You can’t even move,” he chuckled, amused by her growling frustration.  “You might have owned me once, but you’re mine now.”

As he spoke, Mattdog had unconsciously raised himself ever so slightly off Sybil’s body.  Now he was supporting his own weight on his hands and knees.  Sybil immediately took advantage of this tiny mistake.  With all her might she thrust her hips upward and smashed her firm rear end into the bigger man’s lower abdomen.  Sybil felt the air erupt from his mouth onto her cheek as he grunted in painful surprise.

In the split second that he was stunned from this maneuver, the sexy redhead reached over her shoulder and wrapped her arm around Mattdog’s head.  Then, with all the strength she could summon, she snapped him face-first into the mat.  It was only a short drop, but the blow temporarily blinded him with pain.

Sybil slid from underneath Mattdog and sprang to her feet.  Her foe knew he had to get up quickly, too, or risk losing the advantage.   He was too slow.  As he reached his knees Sybil captured him in a reverse headlock and before he could react, she began ramming her knee into his solar plexus.  Like a creamy white piston, she thrust her knee into his body two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight times.  He was now limp in her arms. 

Laughing, Sybil pushed his head in between her thighs and secured a standing head scissors.  “Who owns whom?” Sybil mocked, but she knew he couldn’t hear her, since his ears were covered by her thighs.  Mattdog’s hands clawed feebly at the woman’s slender but powerful legs. 

Finally Sybil released him, only to ram him face first into the mat.  Mattdog twitched a moment, then lay still.  Sybil rolled him over with one delicate foot, which she then planted on his neck.  “Give up, sweetie?” she asked. 

“Bitch,” he managed to mutter.

“Oh, it’s not smart to say such things to someone who has her foot on your throat.  I better teach you a lesson.”

Despite Mattdog’s increased toughness and fitness, he was once again at the mercy of his petite, sexy nemesis.  He struggled in vain as Sybil pulled him into a sitting position and then wrapped his own arms around his neck.  Placing a knee between his shoulder blades, Sybil yanked his arms backward, so that his elbows were crossed in front of him and his wrists were beside his ears.  Her slim hands were steely in their grip on his wrists.  She laughed as she increased the pressure, simultaneously choking him, stretching his shoulders, and torturing his back with her knee. 

Sybil soon tired of that hold and let him fall to the side, semi-conscious.  He was only dimly aware of her lying down beside him and sliding her legs around his body.  Her powerful squeeze snapped him to attention, however, and he yelled out loud as she began pulsing her legs in rhythm.  To exacerbate his misery, Sybil began to pinch and twist his nipples with her pink fingernails.  Mattdog was helpless to stop her.  He could only kick his legs in vain.

Soon even his legs stopped kicking and he simply moaned limply in Sybil’s leggy prison.  Like a cat who wants to revive a dying mouse in order to have some more fun, Sybil released Mattdog and pulled him into a kneeling position.  Holding his chin in her fingers, she forced him to look up at her.  Mattdog’s face was squarely in front of Sybil’s bikini clad crotch; part of him was aroused by the sight of her womanly hips, the smell of her femininity inches from his face, the swaying of her sweaty breasts just above his face.  But he was also frustrated and ashamed when she forced him to look into her eyes.  Her face wore an expression of triumph and superiority…such a beautiful face, and yet so commanding.

“Say it,” she ordered him. 

Somehow, Mattdog refused to quit.

“Good,” she said.  “I want to have more fun.”

Stepping behind him and then over his neck, Sybil pulled his head back into her crotch and then spread his thighs apart with her feet.  He was sitting on the mat, his legs in a V with her feet in between, his head caught between her thighs.  Sybil then captured his wrists and jerked his arms upward, while forcing his neck and shoulders downward.  Mattdog screamed in pain—it felt like she was going to rip his arms out of their sockets.  Meanwhile she was squeezing his head and neck, and compressing his torso.  He struggled helplessly as Sybil increased the pressure.  “Injury!  Injury!” screamed Mattdog.  “You’re going to dislocate one of my shoulders!”

“No I’m not,” said Sybil.  “I know human anatomy, and you can take it.”

“That’s not fair!” pleaded Mattdog.  “You’re going to hurt me!”

“Aww, is the little girl going to hurt the big, strong man?” she taunted in a girlish voice.  “Well, just tough it out!”

Mattdog’s pleas became incoherent and tears began trickling down his cheeks.  Sybil finally release him and he slid to the mat, writhing in pain.  As he lay at her feet, Sybil bent over and began drawing her fingernails down his body.  Starting at his shoulders, she dragged all ten nails down his back and sides to his thighs, raising small rivulets of blood.  Mattdog couldn’t stop her.

Sybil then rolled him to his back and sat on his chest, facing his feet.  As he squirmed weakly underneath her, like an insect pinned into a collection, Sybil drove her nails into the skin of his stomach, executing a vicious double-handed stomach claw.  She laughed at his squeals of protest. 

“Tell me that you quit,” Sybil finally ordered.

“I quit!  I quit!” said Mattdog, his voice filled with shame and fear.

“Who owns you?” she asked.

“You own me!  Sybil Starr owns me!”

Sybil grinned and swiveled her position so that now she was facing her victim.  She rested her knees on his biceps and stared down at him.  Sweat dripped from her bikini-covered nipples onto his face.  She put one of her hands over his mouth and pinched his nose closed with the thumb and index finger of her other hand.  In a panic he kicked and squirmed, but he knew it was no use: Sybil had beaten all the energy out of him.  He couldn’t stop her.

“Good night, sweet prince,” she whispered through her beautiful lips as he lost consciousness. 

When he awoke, he found that not only was he nude, he was hogtied with Sybil’s pink hair ribbon.

1 comment:

  1. You often say "prone" when the right word is "supine."
    I liked the image of the insect pinned in a collection.