Bound and Determined

By Brittany

The ride was silent. We had been asked to leave the hotel --- that luxurious suite that I had saved up for --- because of what the management called “the excessive noise” coming from our room. How ironic that we two boisterous noisemakers had barely uttered 2 syllables since getting in the car. My silence was fueled by a combination of anger and embarrassment. Dawn’s silence was, well, I didn’t really know why she wasn’t talking. She may have been gloating --- she had pretty much kicked my ass --- but she also may have been angry --- because I hadn’t conceded and at the end, I had turned the tables on her (well, in my mind I did anyway).

What a bizarre 12 hours this had been. I had finally met the pen pal with whom I had corresponded since ‘meeting’ through our authorings of female fight stories. We had gotten along really well, gotten a little drunk, and gotten a little physical. I’ll leave it at that. Interested voyeurs can read the details in a previous story.

Anyway, after being asked (told) to leave the hotel, Dawn offered her home to me. What choice did I have? I was 1200 miles from home, it was a holiday weekend (so there were no hotel vacancies), and I was physically exhausted. So I quickly packed and followed her to her car.

Mercifully the ride to her house was only about 15 minutes. We pulled up to a well-kept ranch (um, this was Texas, so what else should a New England girl expect?), and as I grabbed my bag, I found my anger subsiding, being replaced by appreciation that Dawn was helping me out (grrrrr, even though it was kind of her fault we got bounced, but whatever).

She unlocked the door and flipped on the light. I followed her into a large living room, clean, spacious, and tastefully decorated. Kind of edgy, but comfortable. “Wow, this is great!” I said, and I meant it. “Oh, thanks,” she replied, “let me show you your room.” I dumped my bag on the bed, spent a couple of minutes freshening up in the bathroom, kicked off my shoes, and padded out back to the living room, my toes loving the thick wall-to-wall carpeting.

Dawn was already in there, curled up on the couch, drink in hand, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt. I gazed a moment too long at her legs (oooh, those smooth, silky, pythons that had squeezed the breath out of me only hours before), and she caught me, smirking as she pointed to her own drink, and then the one she had made for me. “Come on, let’s just chill for a bit and chat,” she invited. I dropped down on the couch, picked up the drink and took a sip. Damn, it was good, and as the alcohol cruised through my body, I felt a nice wave of relaxation follow.

“So,” she said, “what do you want to do now?” I glanced over at the clock, noting it was a little before 10. I hoped she wasn’t hinting that she wanted to go out clubbing or whatever --- I was too tired from the trip and too weary from the fight. I just wanted to hang out, but of course I didn’t want to sound like a geriatric either. “Oh, I don’t know,” I feigned, “I’m just so comfortable here---this couch is so soft.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s just hang out and talk.” So we did. Dawn freshened our drinks a couple of times, and by 11, I was feeling good. She came back to the couch with a fourth round of mojitos, and plopped down next to me. She sat against the arm of the couch and dropped her feet on my lap playfully. “How about massaging my feet?” she asked as she rubbed one naked sole back and forth across my thigh.

I was so tempted. The mojitos had certainly lowered my sense of inhibition. But it seemed that all my interactions with Dawn so far had been about control --- her trying to establish control over me. As physically tempted as I was to fondle her feet, I needed to be the one to finally establish myself, if not as the dominant girl, at least not as the subjugated one.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I slightly slurred, “I don’t know where these stinky things have been.” She scowled just for a second, then let it drop, but continued to slowly rub her foot back and forth across my lap. I liked it, and did nothing to dissuade her. Damned rum! “You know,” she drawled slowly, “if we hadn’t been interrupted back at the hotel, five more minutes and I would have had you licking those toes,” she grinned slyly, “among other things.”

I snorted out a chuckle. “Um, I remind you that I got out of your lame hold and was ready to take you down for good when they banged on the door.”

“OK, if that’s how you want to tell it,” she countered. “All I know is that you were hot, sweaty, and wobbling, your face was as red as my bikini from being wedged under my ass for 10 minutes, you were stark naked and your crotch was dripping for me. I didn’t quite see you as being able to take me down, Brit.” With that she lifted her foot and playfully placed it against my cheek, gently shoving my head to the side.

I grabbed her foot and twisted her big toe. “You know, I do like you, and you’re fun to spend time with. Just don’t set yourself up to be embarrassed.” I gave her toe another twist to make my point, she winced, and I let go.

Dawn got to her knees and leaned over to me. “So what you’re saying is, you want a Round Two.” She licked her lips and grinned, “I’m up for that. I have some unfinished business anyway.” She wrapped her fingers in my hair and gave me a playful tug.

Inhibitions gone, mojitos fueling my decision-making, I pushed her off me and stood up, subtly steadying myself against the end table. “Like I said, if you’re willing to be embarrassed, I’ll honor your choice. This will only take a couple of minutes,” I said cockily.

She jumped up from the couch and excitedly pulled off her sweatshirt. I was surprised to see that she was still in her red bikini underneath, at least its top. She motioned me to help her with the coffee table, and we moved it against the far wall, me watching her firm breasts sway slightly as she bent over to lift her side of the table. We now had a spacious, plushly-carpeted arena in which to, well, play, I guess.

Having thrown clothes on hurriedly over my naked body in the hotel, I was not dressed for anything physical. I slowly unbuttoned by shirt as Dawn watched with a smirk. I hadn’t had time to put on a bra, and her smirk turned into a grin as I removed the shirt and tossed it onto the couch. “I’ll be back in one sec,” she said, and rushed down the hall. As she did, I unzipped my jeans and realized, not surprisingly, that I was not wearing any underwear either. Hmmmm, slight dilemma. I’d be too constrained to roll around in my jeans, but I definitely wasn’t going to get naked. Whatever Dawn was doing gave me time to hurry back to my room and slip something on.

I returned in a minute having grabbed the first thing I saw--- the bottoms to my own bikini. I double-knotted the ties this time. Dawn was putting something on the end table on the other side of the couch --- her shorts, I assumed, since she was now wearing only her red string bikini. When she saw that I had remained topless, she grinned again, and slowly untied her own top, letting it fall to the floor. For the second time tonight, I was speech-impaired as I gazed, albeit briefly, at her stunningly firm body. “I, uh, the rules, I, um, how do you, uh, want to do this?” Yes, Eloquence is my middle name.

She slowly sauntered over to me, standing eye-to-eye, positioning herself so that our nipples touched softly. I felt an instant charge run through my body. “Oh, I don’t think we need any rules,” she purred. “We’ll know when we’re done. At least I will.” And with that, like a flash she wrapped her arm around my neck and took me down hard with a killer headlock. My forehead slammed into the carpet---thank God it was such a deep pile, otherwise I truly think things may have ended right there with me unconscious and with a concussion.

My head throbbed and I coughed and sputtered as she squeezed my neck, cutting off my breathing except for the slight vestige of a wheeze. I tried to pry her arm off, but she was too freakishly strong. I made a fist and punched her upper arm repeatedly, but it was useless as her muscles were flexed and hard, and she just tightened her grip more. This could be the shortest Round Two in history, I thought as my eyelids started to droop and my punches lost their zip.

Obviously Dawn felt me start to weaken, so she eased up significantly on the chokehold, whispering, “Oh, no you don’t. It’s too early for this. I forgot what a puff you are.” She then released the hold and I fell to all fours, holding my neck and coughing, gulping in huge breaths of air. But giving me no time to regroup, she kicked my ass (literally) from behind, sending me sprawling forward on to my stomach. I had just enough time and instinct to throw my arms out in front of me to cushion my fall and prevent a face full of rug burn.

She dropped full weight on to my lower back and sat on it, wasting no time planting her feet aside my head, grabbing my arms, pulling them back and draping them over her thighs. I had watched enough fem-fem wrestling vids on YouTube to know what was coming, and she didn’t disappoint. She scooped up my chin in her hands and pulled my head up and back. Harder. Higher. The pain that shot through my body was tortuous. I wanted to scream, but couldn’t open my mouth. I felt like my spine was going to snap. She had my arms immobilized, so all I could do kick my legs up and down, which of course had no effect on anything other than to show that I was still conscious and in pain.

Just when I thought I could stand it no more (and ready to utter a submission but unable to because of her clamp on my jaw), she released the hold and my head dropped almost to the floor, stopping a couple of inches above it though, since my arms were still draped over her thighs. As her hands were free, Dawn placed her fingertips on my shoulders, and traced down my shoulder blades following the contour of my spine, to my lower back, where she sat. She did that several times, and if not for the agony of my arms being bent unnaturally behind my back as I just hung by them, it might have actually felt quite nice. Dawn put her hands back on my shoulders, and rubbed them, kind of like a light massage. She moved lower, now rubbing my shoulder blades, and then rubbed under my arms at the top of my rib cage, her hands then brushing the sides of my breasts (which, like me, were just hanging). She partially cupped my breasts with her hands, and gently started to squeeze, and then knead. I willed my nipples not to respond, but the tiny little sluts had minds of their own.

She obviously liked that response, because as my nipples hardened, she started playing with them, leaning forward so that she could have full and unfettered access to my breasts. That may have been her undoing, though, for as she leaned forward, her seating changed slightly, and I could feel that my arms were no longer being held up on her thighs quite as high.

I moved quickly. I pulled my arms from her thighs and grabbed her neck from behind, pulling her face down to the carpet. I rolled out from under her and grabbed one of her wrists, and she grabbed one of mine. We rolled over each other, each trying to pin the other down. The muscles in my arms were no match for hers now, as they felt like they were on fire from all that pulling and yanking they had just been through. She rolled me over to my back, our hands locked together, and started to push my arms down to the carpet for a pin. I knew that if she pinned me, there was no way I could escape. So I used the part of my body that up till now was unhurt and really strong. As she positioned herself over me and slowly pushed my arms up and over my head for the pin, I snapped my legs open, put a vise around her ribcage, and locked my ankles together.

“Aaaaagh, you BITCH!” she cried as she released her grip on my hands and instead tried to pry open my legs. “No way, sister,” I thought, as I increased the pressure as much as I could (I did fear breaking one of her ribs, though --- after all, I wanted to win the fight, but I didn’t want to hospitalize the poor girl). I was now in control, and I placed my hands in back of my head and smirked a tiny bit as I looked up at Dawn trying to free herself from my scissors. As strong and as muscled as her arms may have been, they were no match for my legs, and I taunted her by randomly easing up on the pressure and then tightening it even more.

Her struggles were becoming less forceful; she pawed at my legs a few times, feebly punched my thighs, but I didn’t relent. Her face was becoming a little red, sweat dripped from her forehead on to my chest and stomach, and each punch seemed to pack less and less strength. I was sweating too, of course, and now and then I would have to readjust my legs because the slickness of our increasingly wet bodies made keeping the scissors at rib-height more and more challenging.

She groaned as I adjusted again and squeezed, and raised her fist for another thigh punch. But she misled me. She launched a punch straight down into my stomach. I was so stupid --- lying there, looking up at her, hands behind my head, I was totally exposed, and she finally figured it out. “Oooof!” involuntarily flew out my mouth as her fist landed, and that seemed to energize her, because the next one came even harder, with her hands clasped together.

That one did it. She knocked the air of me, and I released the scissors and rolled to my side, curling up, trying to take a breath. I let out that guttural sucking-groan sound as I tried to inhale, and out of the corner of my eye, saw Dawn rubbing her ribs and getting to her feet. Finally, the vacuum that had been formed in my lungs subsided a bit, and I gulped in a breath, just in time to feel her hand tear into my hair and pull me up. I still could barely breath, and instinctively my hands went to Dawn’s wrist to free it from my hair. Bad move. Once again leaving myself unprotected, I felt Dawn’s fist jolt into my stomach. My hands flew down to protect my stomach and I started to hunch over, but she pulled me up by my hair again and heaved another fist into my gut.

The punches made me see stars, but thankfully they hadn’t found that sweet spot again to re-knock the air out of me. I was in tremendous pain, though, and needed to cover up. Dawn pulled me up again and I braced for a third body shot, but instead she released my hair and with both hands shoved me back hard. I took (or was thrown, I guess) two steps back and collided with the wall. I was stunned and disoriented, and took a step forward, to be greeted with a kick in the face that snapped my head back into the wall. (“WTF!” I remember thinking, “she knows judo too?!?”). My knees buckled and I almost went down, but for some masochistic reason I stayed up and wobbled towards her. I threw a punch at her smug face which she easily dodged, and she responded with another kick, this one right at my mouth. Like in slow motion, I saw the bottom of her foot coming right at me, but my brain couldn’t make my arms or head respond quickly enough. The kick slammed me back into the wall, and this time I didn’t have the strength to stay up. I slowly slid down the wall into a sitting position on the floor, leaving a trail of sweat on her living room paneling.

Dawn grabbed my hair and pulled me from the wall, making me crawl to the middle of the living room and over near the couch. She quickly got in back of me and once again kicked me in the ass, sending me sprawling forward. She grabbed my arm and easily flipped me over to my back, then grabbing by wrists in her hands, pinned them over my head on the carpet. She positioned herself so that she was lying on top of me, eye to eye, and breast to breast. I struggled to get out of the pin, but it was useless. My arms ached and were immobile. She looked down at me and smiled, waiting for me to concede, I’m sure.

Or maybe not. She just gazed down at me, moving her body on top of mine, the wetness of our skin making it slippery. She slid her breasts over mine, back and forth slowly, me feeling a little charge every time our hard nipples touched. She rubbed her foot along my calf, and slowly up my inner thigh, then back down again, all the while staring into my eyes, watching me. She then slid her breasts over mine again, up, down, then in small circles, so that her nipples were tracing around mine. I had stopped fighting the pin, feeling myself giving in to her, not quite there yet, but knowing that I couldn’t take much more.

She slid her breasts higher, gently touching them to my chest, my throat, lightly on my lips. I reflexively opened my lips a bit, and could taste the saltiness of her sweat on my tongue as her nipple caressed my mouth. She did the same with her other breast, dangling it down over my face, a bead of sweat forming at the end of the nipple, until finally it fell on my lips. I could feel her crotch on my stomach, sliding back and forth across my tight midsection.

“Give up?” she half-whispered as she gently rubbed her breast across my cheek. I wanted to --- I wanted to just have her let go of my arms so I could embrace her, our wet bodies intertwining, rolling on her and having her roll on me, sliding up and down my slick, tight body. But I couldn’t --- it was still about not giving up the control. I wanted to, but I didn’t want to. So I didn’t say yes. But I didn’t say no, either. I just lay there, her moist breasts caressing my face, and waited to see what would happen.

I guess that not conceding was tantamount to continuing the fight, at least in her mind. She stayed atop me, keeping me pinned, and continued sliding herself across my stomach. She slowly sat up and inched her way up my body, releasing my wrists when she had trapped my arms under her legs. She was sitting on my chest and neck, my arms pinned under her. She reached in back of her and again played with my breasts, then slowly slid her fingers down my stomach to my bikini bottoms. I started to writhe --- I was not going to let her strip me --- but besides trying to buck her off me, there was little I could do.

As before, she found the tie of the bottoms, and pulled. “What did you do, double-knot these?” she asked amusedly. “No matter, I’m always prepared.” She stopped struggling with the tie and reached up to the end table. Her hand came back down with a pair of scissors and before I could respond, she had cut the ties on each side of my bikini. She tossed the scissors back on to the table and easily pulled my bottoms off. Now I fought. I pushed my arms trying to wrest them from under her legs, but she merely lifted herself up a little, and her shin bones cut into my biceps, eliciting a genuine cry of pain. “I thought the fight was gone from you,” she mused, “I guess I have to work a little more on that.”

Dawn raised herself up again, again cutting into my upper arms with her shins, and stayed that way for a minute or so. Tears formed in my eyes, and I couldn’t see what she was doing. But as soon as she sat back on top of me, I knew. She had removed her own bottoms, and now sat wet and naked on me, my chin between her legs. I tried to push her off again, but I was spent. I felt I had nothing left. My muscles ached, and it was very clear to me who was stronger, who would take control. All I had to do was admit it and we could move on to something that was all pleasure and no pain. I so wanted her, and the thought of finally surrendering myself to her, giving up all control, was something that I think I was ready to do.

But she who hesitates is lost, or smothered in my version. Dawn slid up even further, and covered my mouth and nose with her nakedness. I writhed again, pushed up, bucked, only to hear muffled laughs and taunts. I couldn’t breathe, I tried to yell, but when I opened my mouth the smell and taste was something that I had never experienced before, yet I knew immediately what it was. Some rational part of my brain registered that it was good I hadn’t given in to her, and the pleasure part of my brain tried to shout down the rational part, telling it to shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride. I felt her start to gyrate on my face, still locking my arms down with her legs, my mouth covered with sweat and fluid. I felt her fingers tease me, probe between my legs as she smothered me, moistening her fingers in me and then caressing my breasts with my own sweat and juices. I thrust myself up, unsure whether I was trying to throw her off me or inviting her to take me. I fought for breath, but refused to give her the satisfaction of keeping my mouth open. She continued to probe, tease, and I felt the juices trickle down my thigh.

She raised herself up for a moment, and I gasped and gulped in the fresh air, but then she plopped back down on me. I waited, longed for her fingers to visit me again, but there was none of it. And she had stopped gyrating, yet I was quite sure that she was not, how shall we say, done quite yet. I felt her lift one of her legs slightly, felt her grab my wrist and move it out from under her. All I could do was hear (slightly) and feel, as she still sat atop my face. I heard a strange sound, and then felt something tight around my wrist.

It was as if a little computer in my brain finally found the correct folder and opened it. It all came pouring back into my memory with that feeling around my wrist. “It’s the tape!” I screamed mentally, “The packing tape that she wrote about in her stories! How fucking stupid I am!”

She jerked my arm away from my body and then after a few seconds let it go. For the first time in I don’t know how long, my arm was free. I started to pull it in to free my other one, but it barely moved. As I pulled and pulled, the feeling around my wrist became tighter, and then I knew --- she had taped me to something.

While I was putting that together, Dawn quickly released and taped my other wrist, then stretching my arm away from my body, secured it to something else. My arms were stretched out a 9 and 3 o’clock, respectively and struggle as I might, it was clear that I was going nowhere. Dawn slowly lifted herself off me, her crotch dripping on my face as she stood. I looked at my arms and saw that she had expertly wrapped the tap around each wrist numerous times, and then wrapped the other end around the opposite front legs of the couch. I looked like a prone crucifix.

Now I was scared. I remember what had happened in the stories she wrote, all the stuff that occurred to the loser with packing tape, scissors, and Sharpie Markers. No matter how much fun I thought I wanted with her, this was not part of any fantasy I would ever have. “OK, you win. I give. You kicked my ass totally --- you are stronger than me and the better woman. Please untie me now.”

She looked at me and smiled, and then crawled over to me. As before, she lay on top of me, but this time, her hands were free. She slid up and down me, breasts going from my lips to my stomach, and then back again. She kissed me on my stomach, moved slowly upward with her tongue, licking my breasts, my throat, my lips. She slowly slid her toes down the inside of my thighs, kissing me as she did so. She wrapped her feet around my calves, and spread my legs apart slowly, wider, farther, until, if my arms were at 9 and 3, I felt as if my legs must have been at 8 and 4.

I didn’t want this. I wanted to leave --- first beat the shit out of her, and then leave. “Please, Dawn. I give. I give!”

The End.