The Wrestler
Erotica
She circled the mat, eyes locked on his, stance wide and ready to strike. He was nervous, the occasional giggle escaping from his smiling mouth - the anticipation and curiosity overwhelming him. A true submissive, he really didn't want to win. He wanted to feel what it was like to be dominated by Her.
Distracted by these thoughts, She took her opportunity and struck, leaping on him and dragging him to the ground. Perched upon his chest She laughed in his face. Such a pathetic weak little thing. She had warned him her style was semi-competitive, meaning there would be some grappling, but that She would always win. She needn't have bothered, Her win was going to be legitimate.
She was tired of him looking at her and leant forward to smother him. The muffled sounds from beneath Her breasts amused Her, as did his futile wiggles. The only thing they were good for was the way each buck of his hips made Her slide along his torso, Her knees either side of his waist, the slick area between Her thighs becoming even slicker.
She decided to show him more of Her moves, reinforcing Her prowess. Boston crab, camel clutch, arm bars and choke holds delivered in alternating waves - contrasting moments of being roughly dragged along the ground with intentional pauses. Her full bodyweight bearing down to remind him of Her power and his insignificance. Between each move, She mercilessly edged him, both of them unsure which release he was begging for in any particular moment - an easing of Her holds, or his desperate cock.
She played with him like a cat with a trapped mouse, taunting him with the hopes of freedom, only to smash down her paw and trap him in Her teeth. He struggled, squirmed, pleaded and laughed, coping with the sensory overwhelm by retreating further into submission. She spanked, bit, tickled and slapped him to reinforce Her position over him, and he lapped up every moment of Her brutal attention. In a final push, She swung around and locked Her strong thighs around his neck and squeezed; watching as his face grew redder and his frantic grasping finally turned to tapping.
She had won.
She stood over him, one foot on his chest and flexed Her biceps, feeling primal. She circled again, as She did in the start. Only this time there was no shadowing Her movements waiting for Her pounce, he had resigned himself to Her strength and his fate.
Satisfied with Her victory it was time to claim Her prize. Broken and helpless, his post orgasm torture screams went unheard as She squatted down over his face, and dulled his sounds with her Lycra covered ass. She had truly finished him now.
When She was satisfied he had been drained in every sense, and Her superiority fully understood, She rose and allowed him to follow. He had put up a good fight, but there was never any doubt about who was the champion.
She remained undefeated.
