I was straddling Sarah's trim torso, trying not to put all my weight on her, and tickling her armpits with my right hand while I held both her thin wrists above her head with my left hand.  Although she had been a gymnast and a cheerleader in high school and was very strong for a female, my girlfriend Sarah was still no match for me.  Not that I'm a hulk by any means; I am just an average-size man, fairly athletic but nothing to brag about.  Wrestling with a petite woman is always a good way to boost one's ego.

Sarah and I were at her parents' house over the Christmas holidays, and we had been playing a game we called "wrestling holds."  The game would start out with her putting me into a hold and then me trying to escape.  Though we played the game a lot, Sarah had yet to ever keep me trapped in any hold.  She tried scissor holds, head scissors, grapevines, headlocks, schoolgirl pins, armbars, rear-naked choke holds, and a number of holds she had made up.  In the end I always managed to use my strength to pry or wriggle my way out, and then we usually ended up in this same position, me pinning her down and tickle torturing her. 

"What is going on here?"

Vicky's voice startled me and I immediately released Sarah's wrists and turned my head to face her mother.

"Nothing! We're just playing!" I said quickly.  The smile on Vicky's face told me she wan't upset at all.  I rolled off Sarah and the two of us straightened our clothes and sat on the carpet.

Vicky walked past us and had a seat on the sofa, kicking off her gym shoes drawing her legs up underneath her.  She had just come from a Zumba class, which she attended fanatically, and wore a hot pink tanktop and tight pink spandex that came halfway down her thighs.  Vicky was not petite like Sarah; rather, she was tall for a woman and decidedly curvaceous.  She had turned fifty a month earlier, and she had a wide butt and matronly breasts (that were quite visible in her purple tanktop).  But her arms showed surprising definition, as did her calves.  She realized this and generally wore sleeveless shirts even when she wasn't working out, and it wasn't uncommon for her to get compliments on her biceps and triceps.

"See, Mom," Sarah said, "it's just this game we play.  I try to put Matt in a wrestling hold and he tries to escape."

"It looks like he escaped that time," Vicky laughed. 

"Yeah, he always does," Sarah said, the frustration obvious in her voice.

"Always?" her mother asked.

"Yes, always," Sarah snapped.  I smiled and shrugged, as if to say, can I help it if I'm a guy?

Vicky laughed again.  "Honey, you need to come do Zumba with me, or try Crossfit or PX90 or something.  That's pretty sad if you can't beat Matt even once."

"Hey!" I objected.

"No offense, Matt," Vicky said.  "But you're not exactly the biggest guy I've ever seen.  If you let her put you into a hold before you even start, she ought to be able to keep you there."

"It's harder than you would think, Mom," said Sarah.  "You don't really know anything about wrestling."

"Honey, I just thought you were stronger than that, what with all your gymnastics and cheering.  You used to almost be able to beat me in armwrestling."

"I'm still strong!" Sarah protested.  "But Matt's a boy!  I mean, he's twenty-four, he's a man."

Vicky wrapped her lips around her Starbuck's straw and slurped up some frozen iced coffee.  "Ok, ok," she said, finally, smirking a bit.  "I just think maybe you should work out again.  You looked awful helpless when I came in."

"Like you could do any better," Sarah whined.

"I used to beat up your uncles, you know," Vicky said, giggling.

"Sure, forty years ago when they were like eight years old."

"We still wrestled around when we were teenagers," Vicky said.  "I know some moves."

"Yeah, whatever," said Sarah.  "I guarantee you couldn't keep Matt in any hold.  He's too strong."

Vicky looked at me and smiled, almost apologetically.  "Are you game, sweetie?" she asked me.

It was an awkward spot, but I didn't see the harm.  "Sure," I said.

"Ok, lie down on your stomach," she directed me.  "Flat down."  I did as she told me.  Vicky stepped over me so that one foot was on either side of my body, then slowly lowered her weight down onto my lower back.  "Give me your arms," she commanded.  "This way."  As she took hold of both my wrists and twisted my arms gently behind my back, so that my wrists were crossed between my shoulder blades.  The double hammerlock was a move that Sarah had tried several times, and I had always escaped easily. 

"Does that hurt?" Vicky asked.

"No," I answered.

"It will soon," Vicky said, chuckling.  "Ok, so, how do we start?"

"Are you ready?" I asked.

"Yes," she replied.  "Are you?"

"Yes.  So I'm going to try to escape, and all you have to do is try to keep me trapped."

"Ok.  Go whenever you're ready."

Immediately I started bringing my knees up underneath my chest.  My body rose off the ground and Vicky, even though she was quite a bit heavier than Sarah, rose up, too.  She squealed in surprise, not expecting that, and struggled to stay on my back.

"He always does that," Sarah said.  "See, Mom, you can't keep him trapped."

I managed to wrench my left arm free and used it to push my chest further off the ground.  I was now on my knees and about to push into a standing position. 

However, Vicky's grasp was surprisingly strong on my right wrist.  With all the power of her Zumba-toned arm, she wrenched my arm high up behind my back.  Now I was the one who squealed.

"Does that hurt?" she asked.

I grunted in reply.  Vicky kept the pressure on my trapped arm and used her other hand to squeeze the back of my neck painfully.  Her fingers were long and strong for a woman, and she dug her nails into the base of my neck, apparently trying to find a pressure point.  I was momentarily paralyzed, trying to gauge my next move while fighting the pain in my shoulder, elbow, and neck.  Vicky took advantage by wrapping her foot in front of my thigh and pushing me forward.  I landed face-first on the Persian carpet with a thud.

"Ooooppphhhhh!" I groaned as Vicky bounced onto my lower back and knocked the wind out of me.  She still held my right arm in the hammerlock, and now she had all her weight and leverage behind it.  I moaned involuntarily.  This time she slid her feet back and braced them against my thighs, keeping me from trying to pull my legs underneath me again, forcing me to stay flat on the rug.  With her free hand she pushed my face flat into the floor.  I rolled my head to the side, so Vicky ended up pressing her palm into my jaw and cheekbone, using her weight to force the other side of my face painfully into the rug. 

"Give up?" Vicky asked.

Instead of answering I struggled with renewed vigor.  I kicked my legs, bucked my hips, arched my back, all without success.  When I tried to push against the floor with my free hand Vicky seized my wrist and, after a brief battle, twisted that arm into a hammerlock again.  Once more, she held both my arms captive.  I squirmed and kicked but all to no avail.

"Oh! My! God!" yelled Sarah.  "Are you trying?  Are you trying?  Did you just let my mother beat you up?  Oh my God!  My mom just beat up my boyfriend!"

"She didn't beat me up!" I growled.

"Then why can't you get away, sweetie?" Vicky giggled.  "Say you give up and I'll let you go."  She gave both my arms an extra yank and I squealed in spite of myself.  "Say it!" Vicky commanded.

I was silent.

Sarah kneeled down on the floor in front of me.  Her mouth was inches from my eyes.  "Are you really trapped?  Is she hurting you?"

The look on Sarah's face was one of contempt mixed with anger and concern. 

"Say you give up, honey," Vicky said again.

When I didn't answer, Sarah snorted and stood up and walked over to the sofa.  "I don't believe this," she said. 

"Well, whether or not you give up, I think I win," said Vicky.  She released my wrists and rose off me, giving me a playful kick in the rear end as she went back to her spot on the sofa.  "That was fun!"

I rolled to my back and massaged my elbows and shoulders.  They were sore and a little numb. 

"Are you ok?" asked Vicky.  "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm fine," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"I can't believe my mom beat up my boyfriend."

"She didn't beat me up," I insisted.  "Remember, I let her put me in that hold.  She's just bigger than you are and that took me by surprise."

"Boys can never admit when they lose," said Vicky, giggling.  She took a long sip from her drink.

"I didn't lose," I said. 

"It looked like you lost! You were flopping around underneath her, squealing."

"Want a rematch?" Vicky suggested, smiling. "This time we can start even. If your excuse is that I started on top."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Are you afraid?" Sarah demanded.

"Ok, ok," I said and stood up.  We agreed to move the coffee table out of the way and make an open space for wrestling in the middle of the Persian rug.  I stood in one corner and Vicky in the other.

"What are you waiting for, Matt?" Sarah urged.  "Get her!"

I lunged forward, intending to use a double-leg takedown on Vicky.  As I swept in, I happened to notice Vicky's toenails were painted a bright purple. I easily grabbed both her legs and pulled up, sending her backward, according to plan.

However, not everything went according to plan. As she fell back, Vicky wrapped her legs around my waist and began squeezing immediately. Worse, she wrapped her right arm around my head-actually, my neck-securing a sort of reverse headlock. Even though I was on top of her, she held me securely with her legs and was squeezing my face into the side of her fleshy breast and choking me (perhaps inadvertently) with her forearm.  I wanted to accuse her of cheating by choking me, but I didn't want to admit that a fifty-year old woman could get an advantage on me even by choking.  I could vaguely hear Vicky laughing and Sarah yelling at me to do something.  Meanwhile the pain in my throat grew where her forearm was pressing against my Adam's Apple, and I was gasping for air.

I tried to grasp Vicky's arms and pin them down to the floor, but with my head trapped I couldn't see and was flailing around blindly.  I changed strategies and tried to retreat by backing out of the headlock and body scissors.  With all my strength I pushed against the floor with my arms and feet.  Finally my head popped free and I gasped for breath.  Vicky still had my imprisoned by her legs, though.  Now that I was able to see, I could find her wrists and even though she tried to elude my grasp, I grasped her wrists and tried to force her arms to the floor by her head.  It was a struggle, though.  Her biceps knotted and bulged as she fought against me.  After several minutes, I had her arms pinned.

"Give up?" I asked, my voice labored from the exertion.

Vicky laughed.  "Why should I give up?" She gave her legs a sudden jolt and I grunted.  "You might want to consider giving up, sweetie, before I break one of your ribs."

Apparently during this talking, I lowered my defenses.  Suddenly Vicky whipped her legs to the side and rolled us over, so that now she was straddling me.  Somewhere in the chaos she had escaped my grasped and before I realized it, Vicky had seized both my wrists and slammed them to the carpet above my head.

"Oh my God!" yelled Sarah.  "She's pinning you!"

I tried to force one wrist, and then the other, off the floor, but Vicky was amazingly strong, plus she was able to use her ample weight to keep my arms stretched out.  I then planted my feet on the carpet and tried to bridge upward and unseat the woman who was riding me, but could only raise my torso a foot or so off the floor before she slammed me back down.  I was staring up into Vicky's big boobs, swaying inside her hot pink tank top, and saw her smile of determination.

"Don't let her pin you!" Sarah yelled.  "Get her off!"

I tried everything I could think of, but couldn't dislodge Vicky.  I kicked and bucked frantically but succeeded only in wearing myself out even more.  After several minutes I was so exhausted that I was barely fighting anymore.

"Here's something else I used to do to your uncles, Sarah," giggled Vicky.  I couldn't resist as she moved first one arm, then the other, down to my side and straddled each of of them in turn, so that she was able to use her meaty thighs to keep my arms pinned flat against my body.  Again I tried to kick and buck, but I couldn't escape.  With just her legs, Vicky was keeping me pinned flat to the carpet.  She raised both her arms and flexed her biceps in a victory pose.  Her triceps shone as well.  "Like my Zumba muscles?" she taunted me.

"Can you really not get up?" Sarah asked.  Again she knelt over me and looked straight down.  "Are you really trying?"

I didn't answer, just kicked and bridged and bucked and squirmed, all in vain.  I was completely helpless.

"Let me up," I said finally.

"Say you give up and I will," replied Vicky.

I was silent.

"Oh good lord," snapped Sarah.  "Just give up!  She's beat you!  Don't be such a baby.  Admit it and she'll let you up."

"Do you give up?" Vicky asked again.

"No," I muttered.

"Your uncles were stubborn, too," said Vicky.  "But I always made them give up in the end.  Watch this!"

She leaned forward, so that her face was directly over mine.  I couldn't help but notice her huge, sweaty breasts in the pink tank top inches above my eyes.  Vicky reached down with one hand and covered my mouth completely, her sweaty palm sealing my lips.  I tried to turn my head away but she held me more tightly than I would have imagined.   Then her other hand snaked in and she pinched my nose shut with her thumb and forefinger.  I felt her painted fingernails digging into my flesh.

"Do you want to give up now?" Vicky asked mockingly sweet.  "Do you like breathing?"

"Mom!" yelled Sarah, but now there was a trace of laughter in her voice.  "Oh wow, look how big his eyes are getting!  He's really scared!"

And I was scared.  I had never been so helpless in my life.  I was completely immobile, and the realization that Vicky literally held my life in her two feminine hands was leading me to panic.  Even my adrenaline-filled panic didn't give me the strength to wriggle free.

"Blink twice if you give up," Vicky said.

I blinked twice, then twice again.

"Oh dear," laughed Vicky.  "Was that twice?  It looked like four times.  Maybe he doesn't give up."

I blinked twice again.  This time tears began to run down my face.  I honestly thought I was about to die.

Just when it seemed I was losing consciousness, Vicky released my nose and mouth.  I sucked in air frantically.  My eyes were wet and blurry.

"Would you hand me my drink, honey?" Vicky asked.  She remained planted firmly on my torso, my arms still trapped by her powerful thighs. 

Sarah handed her the drink.  Vicky took a long slurp through the straw as she looked down at me.  I noticed the lipstick stains on the end of the straw as she rested her drink on my chest.

"That was pathetic," Sarah said, looking down at me.

"I've been telling you how good Zumba is," said Vicky.

"You're right.  I need to start going."

“Admit that I won and I’ll let you up,” said Vicky.  “Say, ‘Vicky wins.’ “

“Just let me up,” I said, blinking through the tears.

“Oh good god, just say it!” snapped Sarah.  “Stop being such a baby!  Do you want her to smother you again?”

“Say it for me, sweetie,” cooed Vicky.

“Vicky wins,” I said.  “Please let me go.”

“Ok, I guess you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Wait,” said Sarah.  “He never lets me go!  He sits on me and tickles me forever!”

“Do you want to tickle him?” asked her mother.

“He’s not that ticklish.  But I was thinking, did you ever do anything else to Uncle Mark or Uncle Dave when you wrestled them?”

“Oh yes!” laughed Vicky.  “A lot of things!  Let me show you one move in particular that your Uncle Mark really hated.”

Vicky finally lifted her weight off me and I was free, but only for a moment.  “Sit up,” she commanded me.  I responded too slowly and she reached down and pulled me by the hair.  “I said sit up!  Good boy!”  When she had me in a sitting position, my legs out in front of me, she stood behind me and forced my head down, pushing my chin into my chest.  “Now hold still,” she said as she stepped over my shoulder with one foot, and then the other.  My neck was in her crotch, and her feet were inside my upper thighs.  Then she reached down and seized my wrists and pulled my arms upward. 

“This hurts!” I blurted as Vicky jerked my already sore arms upward in a V, twisting them in my shoulder sockets, while simultaneously using her slim feet to spread my outstretched legs wider and wider.  With her groin on my neck, she was pressing me further and further forward.  My humiliation was all the more intense in that I could only stare at her feet with her polished toenails that were forcing my muscular thighs further and further apart.

“It’s supposed to hurt,” giggled Vicky, pulling up even higher on my arms.  “Do you give up?”

“Yes!  I give up!”

“Does Vicky win?”

“Yes, Vicky wins!  Vicky wins!  Just stop!”

“Beg me to stop, sweetie.”

“Please!  I beg you!  Please stop!  I’m begging you!”

Finally Vicky released me.  I slip to the carpet as she stepped away.

“That was awesome!” exclaimed Sarah.  “That was payback for all those times you held me down, Matt.”

I didn’t answer, just curled into a ball and gently massaged my aching arms.

“Did I hurt you, Matt?” Vicky asked, a trace of laughter in her voice.  “Are you going to be ok?”

Again, I didn’t answer.  I just rolled away from the two of them and tried to compose myself.

“Hey, Mom,” said Sarah, as I lay there.  “I’m hungry.  Would you like to go out and get some lunch?”

“Sure, honey,” said Vicky.  “What about you, Matt?  Are you feeling good enough to go out?”

Sarah answered for me.  “I think he needs to stay here and rest.  You and I need some private mother-daughter time.  We have things to talk about.

“That sounds great,” said Vicky.  “Let me take a shower really quick and we can go.”

Vicky left the room and Sarah came over and sat on the ground next to me.

“My mom really kicked your ass,” she said.

“Leave me alone.”

“I can’t believe I could never keep you in a hold, and then she is able to beat you up so easily and even make you cry!”

“She didn’t beat me up, and she didn’t make me cry!” I insisted.

“Don’t be such a baby!”  Sarah grabbed one of my wrists with both her hands.  She tried to pull it behind my back.

“What are you doing?” I said.  “Stop!”

I tried to roll away and wrench my arm from her grasp, but she already had it part-way twisted.  Before I could stop her she had straddled my back and forced me to my stomach.  Using both her hand she was able to twist my arm the rest of the way into a hammerlock.  I was too tired and beaten to stop her.

“Does it hurt?” she taunted.

“Yes!”

“Want me to let go?” she whispered in my ear.

“Yes!  Let go!”

“No way, Matt.  My mother made you her bitch.  And now you're my bitch!”

I struggled in earnest now.  I had escaped from Sarah in this position a dozen times in the past, but it was different now.  My arm was weak, and I was exhausted and sore all over.  Moreover, Sarah seemed to have increased confidence.  I hate to admit it, but a ninety-five pound girl was holding me helpless.

“Give me you other arm,” she demanded.  When I didn’t immediately comply she yanked my wrist harder.  “Give it to me or I’ll break your elbow!”  I had to give her my other arm, and now she held me in a double hammerlock. 

“Ha!” she gloated.  “Ok, bitch, while I am out with my mother, I want you to stay right here and think about what just happened.  Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” I whined.

“Good.  And I know just the way to keep you here!”

Sarah crossed my wrists so that she could hold both my arms captive with just one of her small hands.  I felt her leaning over, and I wasn’t sure why.  Then she sat back up and I turned my head and saw that she had grabbed one edge of the Persian carpet that I was partially laying on.  She pulled it up to us and then quickly hopped off my back and pulled the carpet over top of me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, even though I knew.  I was too tired and beaten to push myself up before Sarah wrapped the carpet completely over me.  My head was barely sticking off the edge, but the carpet covered my shoulders down to my feet.

“Stop!” I yelled, but Sarah just laughed as she bounced to the side and used all her weight to roll me, and the carpet over.  Then she rolled me over again, and again, until I was completely wrapped in several layers of carpet.  I was completely immobile.

“Comfortable?” Sarah asked, looking down at me.  She had never looked more beautiful.  I had never been more humiliated or helpless in my life.

“Don’t go anywhere while we’re gone!” she giggled.  “You know, I am not sure I want a boyfriend that my mom can beat up.  But I have room in my life for a little bitch.”