Liz' Challenge

By Wreslingforfun ( Wreslingforfun@yahoo.com )

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Liz looked earnestly down into my eyes. She stood only a foot in front of me, so I had to look up to meet her gaze. I'm not short, standing around 5' 10”, but Liz was a real amazon, at 6' 1”. She had until recently been an athlete, with a strong 160 pound body. Younger than me, only eighteen, in far better condition, she had demonstrated on numerous occasions that she was at least as strong as I was, probably stronger. That was part of the problem.

We stood in the finished basement of her parents' house, she in her plush pink bathrobe, barefoot, and me in shorts and a t-shirt. “For real this time,” she reminded me. “No holding back. If you think you can take me, you better do it. I just can't accept being with someone who's weaker than me. I have to be able to respect you.” She said it almost apologetically, as though she felt she was being shallow. But I knew she meant it. This was something that had been nagging at her for a long time, and she finally had decided she had to face up to the reality of what she was feeling. I guess I couldn't blame her. I really cared for her, and I think she did for me, but we had to get this out of the way if our relationship was going to go any further.

Taking a step back, she let the robe slip off her shoulders so that it puddled on the floor around her feet. My eyes popped. Liz stood there in nothing but a black bikini bottom. We had been together a long time, but I had never seen her high, full breasts before. She looked to be about a 36c, with small dark nipples the size of a quarter. I had rarely even gotten a glimpse of that smooth, flat belly, with its thin vertical slit of a bellybutton. Now I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew I shouldn't be staring, but I couldn't help it. “I thought you should at least see what you're fighting for,” she said, and she colored a bit, embarrassed at her own daring. I knew I might never get a glimpse of this beautiful sight again. I ran the tip of my tongue over my lips and made myself meet her dark gaze once more, concentrating on the deep, deep brown of her large eyes. I nodded to show that I understood the stakes.

She reached out her right hand and laid it on my shoulder before pushing me back a step, then kicked her robe off towards the bottom of the basement stairs. I stripped off my shirt, feeling like we should be attired reciprocally. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards as I tossed it into a corner. “One rule,” she warned, “no hitting in the face. Ready?”

My stomach clenched and my palms felt cold and sweaty. I rubbed my hands together, trying to warm them up, but the cold had nothing to do with temperature. I wanted to be with Liz. I wanted her to respect me. Mostly I just wanted her. But I was also afraid of her. Our wrestling matches almost always ended with me pinned helplessly and submitting meekly. I was afraid this would be the last time I saw her. I gave a tiny nod. She began.

Stepping quickly into me, her right hand swung back and forward hard, her large fist pounding into my soft belly. The punch took me just to the left of my bellybutton and sunk in deep. I couldn't help grunting, as much from surprise as pain, and I bent forward a little as I tried to get my breath back. Immediately her hip drove into my gut and her left arm wrapped tightly around my head, bending me forward awkwardly. She squeezed hard, slowly turning to her right to drag me behind her and keep me off balance. Planting my feet, I grabbed her with both arms around her mid-section and yanked backwards. As always, though, I couldn't get Liz off her center of gravity. She stood rooted in place. I felt weak and foolish. I tried to twine my right leg around hers, but she shifted her foot and avoided the attempt. Then she twisted forward, her butt pushing into me and I flipped over her hip. She held the headlock and rode me down to the floor, hard.

She lay across me now, back to my chest, feet pressing against the floor to lift her hips and add to her leverage, as her left arm ground at my head. All I noticed, though, was her bare breast pressed against my cheek and right eye. I don't think she was doing it on purpose, but the effect of her headlock was to clamp my head in tight against that breast. It was softer than I had imagined it would be, squishy and not firm at all. If she had realized the effect it was having on me, she could have put me in whatever finishing hold she dreamed of right then, and it would have been over. But Liz didn't think sexually; to her it was just a headlock. She held it, pouring on the pressure, but her squeezing actually brought me back to my senses more than wearing me down.

Blindly groping with my free right hand, I found her chin and cupped it, pulling back hard. I heard Liz grunt and felt a small bit of satisfaction. She let go of the headlock and rolled off and behind me, freeing her head. I twisted to follow her, only to see her rising to her feet and taking a step back, a small smile on her full lips. I knew she wasn't trying to get away from me; she just had the advantage in any lock up and wanted to use it.

I got clumsily to my knees, unable to match her agility, and she was on me. He right thigh swung forward, driving into my face and chest and her weight dropped down, forcing me onto my back. She was sitting astride me now and I knew that with her strength the fight could very well be ending. Desperate to avoid letting her settle her weight into the pin, I bucked and twisted, bouncing her up off me just enough to let me spin onto my stomach. Then her full weight pressed down into the small of my back and I was held fast to the floor.

She sat there for a moment, then bounced once, jarring my spine and forcing out a groan. Then strong fingers locked onto my face. Her hand was large, and her grip covered from my chin up to my eyes. She pulled my head back until I thought my neck would pop. I should have concentrated on getting her off my back, but that grip demanded all of my attention. With both hands, I pried at her fingers, managing to draw her hand back. Then her free hand slid under my chin and the pressure quickly became even worse. I was gritting my teeth, fighting to keep from crying out, but soft grunts were breaking free anyway. My neck was burning and I knew she must be smiling as she played with me. Liz did have a cruel streak, which I found oddly attractive. Here, it worked in my favor, because she took extra moments to enjoy her domination, when she could have been finishing me off.

With a huge effort, I pushed myself up to my hands and knees. Her weight on my back seemed immense, but I did outweigh her and now my bulk came in handy. I briefly considered trying to stand and lift her up piggy-back, but I knew I wasn't strong enough. Instead I rolled, toppling both of us to my left. She lost her grip on my chin, but before I could roll off of her, I heard the silky sound of her ankles sliding together and her long, powerful legs clamped around my belly. She forced the breath out of me and immediately I started to pant for air. She straightened her legs and the panting was replaced by a pained groan until she let up a little on the pressure.

Liz was cruel, and she was also a little bit arrogant. She knew she was too strong for me. She knew she could finish me whenever she wanted. So she didn't move to wrap me up. Together with the fact that I was laying a little bit on top of her, this gave me a chance. She squeezed tight again and when she let up I moved immediately. Twisting again, I turned in her grip to face her, with her lying on her back and me on my knees above her. Immediately she clamped down hard with her legs, but she had lost her leverage. She could hold me from this position, but not hurt me. At least not enough to make me submit. Remembering what she had said about there being only one rule, I slammed a fist straight down into her bellybutton.

There was a time, after we had first started going out, when my punch would have met abs like a board and not even gotten a grunt in return. But since she had stopped running track, Liz had softened up a little. And I had leverage from this position. I saw Liz's eyes squeeze shut and her mouth form a little “o” as her legs loosened. I quickly hit her again in the same spot. This time her neck arched and her legs dropped to the floor, freeing me. I lifted myself as high as I could on my hands knees and dropped my full weight down, stomach to stomach. That brought a satisfying “oof” as her limbs flattened out on the floor. I lifted up on my elbows and smashed down onto her again, this time grabbing her wrists and pressing them down on either side of her head.

I felt a rush of joy now. Of the few times I had made Liz submit in a wrestling match, this was what had most often beaten her. As large as she was, I still had about 20 pounds on her. Using my bulk as a battering ram had sometimes been enough to squash her substantial pride and force a grudging concession out of her. I raised up again. My eyes were caught by the sight of her breasts jiggling below me, and I drove down extra hard, inspired by the possibility they represented. She moaned, and I dared to hope that I had done it. But as I lifted up once more, planning to finish her off, I saw Liz's strong jaw set and her eyes blaze.

There was something at stake besides pride this time. Liz's arms tensed and my own started to shake as she forced my hands up. I dropped down onto her again, but it was too late. Her powerful legs pushed along with her arms and I was on my side, lying on the floor next to her. Then her weight was on me again and she had reversed our positions.

Her body flattened mine, her belly and breasts pressed tightly down into me, her arms spreading mine wide and flat on the floor, her legs holding mine motionless. Her face hovered a bare inch above mine and her brown eyes bored into me. Her earlier smirk was gone. Now she seemed on the verge of growling. I tried to move my arms. I tried to lift my hips. Nothing. Through clenched teeth, she said “Let's see how you like it.” Her breath on my face was hot and sweet. Then she lifted up over me and her full weight came crashing down. I can still hear the very soft slap of her skin hitting mine. The impact was in marked contrast to that soft sound. Air rushed out of me with a grunt and my eyes squeezed shut. Before I could recover, that soft, hot weight slammed me again.

I don't know how many times her body crashed down onto mine. I know that by the time she stopped, her arms and legs felt no resistance from mine as they pinned me to the floor. Her full weight lay on me and I could feel her back rising and falling as her lungs filled. Her nipples must have gone erect, I could feel them poking into mine. My eyes were closed and my mouth open, air going in raggedly and soft, quiet groans coming back out. I didn't know what I would say when she ordered me to submit.

But she didn't. Her mouth brushed my ear and she whispered, “That's too easy a defeat. This is too important. You deserve a hard, thorough defeat.” And her weight was gone.

I lay there for a few moments, not moving, not knowing where she was or what she was doing. I just breathed. And as I got some oxygen back into me, I realized that I wasn't hurt too badly. She had pounded me, and I was sore, but I wasn't actually damaged. If she had forced the issue while I was pinned, helpless, and out of breath, I probably would have had to submit. But I felt like I was coming around quickly. Liz was a little cruel and a little arrogant, and she had a huge sense of drama. Maybe that would give me the break I needed.

But the respite didn't last long. As she bent over me and grabbed my wrists, I saw that she had stopped to tie back her black hair. Now she yanked me to my feet and as soon as I had my balance she pounded her left fist into my belly. This time I moaned loudly as I doubled over, both arms crossing over my mid-section. My knees hit the floor and I leaned forward against her, my cheek pressing against her smooth, damp belly. But strong hands clasped the sides of my head and drew me back up.

I tried to fight through the pain to think of some attack, something that would get her off me and give me a few more moments to recover. I leaned against her, my chin resting on her shoulder, and I felt her arms wrap around me, tightening across the small of my back. Our sweaty bodies pressed tightly together and suddenly my feet were off the floor. She held me there, grip continuing to tighten. I had never felt so helpless in my life. She shook me like a rag doll and I cried out in pain. But though I was humiliated and hurting, I once again realized that this was something I could survive. She was using a lot of strength and energy to hold me up like this, and it wasn't bringing me to submission. True to form, Liz was using a hold that was dramatic and impressive, but it wasn't going to win the fight for her.

I decided to go as limp as possible and just hang there, absorbing the pain and letting her use up her strength. Either she took my lack of resistance as defeat, or she realized she was tiring herself unnecessarily, because she let me go. I landed on my feet but my knees buckled, and once again I collapsed against her. She stood like a tree, and I felt like jelly. But I jabbed my fist into her stomach, just above the navel, and it must have caught her by surprise, because she grunted and stumbled backwards. Falling forward I put all my weight behind my punch and hit her again, squarely on the bellybutton, and we both collapsed to the floor.

I don't think she was really hurt much, but she might have been a bit impressed. She was slow getting back to her feet, watching me thoughtfully, and I scrambled backwards to put distance between us. I managed to stand as she stalked towards me. She was smiling slightly again, and I wondered whether or not she wanted me to beat her. I knew it didn't matter; either way she would fight with everything she had. Liz hated losing more than almost anything else in the world.

She approached me with her arms low, at her waist, and hands open defensively in front of her to catch any punches I might throw. My head was still spinning and another gut-punch was about the only strategy I could think of, but I could see it was futile. Instead, I dove at her knees, wrapped my arms around her legs and lifted, trying to dump her on her butt.

She didn't budge. She might have laughed then, but I'm not sure. She hooked her arms under mine and lifted me to my feet. My mind was working now, though, and the excitement had driven down some of the pain and fatigue. I twisted behind her, trapping both her arms against her back. She jerked with all her strength and I almost lost my grip, but I shifted again and brought my arms up into a full nelson.

Liz didn't move. She may have been too shocked to react. But I quickly pressed down, getting my weight on her back, and she sank to her knees, bent double at the waist so that her head rested on the floor and I was draped over her back, squeezing for all I was worth.

For once, I had her under control. My weight on top of her was enough to hold her in place and I bore down on my hold, hoping desperately that she would submit. After a few moments I dared to ask her, although I think I knew what her answer would be. “Do you submit?”

She simply said “No.” She was pressing against me, but I think she planned to just ride it out. The hold wasn't hurting her enough to defeat her, no matter how long I maintained it. My mind raced. What else could I do? As soon as I let go, she would be all over me. Lifting off her, I placed my knee between her shoulder blades and shifted my grip so I was holding her arms behind her. Her arms were strong, she almost pulled free, but I had a good grip and her position deprived her of any leverage. I didn't even bother to ask her again, though. Once I had her firmly, I switched the knee for my foot between her shoulders, slid along her arms so I held her wrists, then shoved her down onto her belly.

I couldn't believe it. I had her. I knew she couldn't break this hold. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in satisfaction, joy and pride filling me. Liz and I had a future. Maybe she'd even be ready for something sexual after this. I pressed down hard with my foot and twisted her arms, enjoying the control, feeling strong for the first time. I held it for a few seconds, considering taunting her. It didn't feel right, though. I was too happy. Instead I just asked, “Had enough? Want to submit?”

She growled. It was a frightening sound. There was pain in it, frustration, but no defeat. No fear. Mostly there was anger. “I'm gonna kill you!” My elation fled.

There I was, a 5'10”, 180-pound man in his twenties, standing over an eighteen year old girl; my foot pressing her to the floor, my hands twisting her arms behind her. Even though I was giving it my absolute best shot, I knew she would never submit. I knew she was going to beat me. Soon, inevitably, I would be in pain, humiliated and defeated. And our relationship would be over.

The emotional chaos made me confused. I couldn't decide what to do. My hold was futile, but I couldn't think of what to do next. I sank down onto her back, still holding her arms, and tried to get hold of myself. There must be a way I could salvage this.

Afraid I was making a mistake, I let go of her arms and quickly laced my fingers under chin, pulling back hard. She growled again. Then I felt her powerful fingers clamp around my throat. I hadn't counted on her long, lithe arms. My eyes bulged in surprise and animal fear as she cut off my air. My hands clutched at hers; she surged upwards, and I was on the floor.

A fist pounded into my unprepared lower belly and I groaned loudly. She swung her leg over me and everything went dark as her crotch and butt settled down hard onto my head. Another punch drove into my gut, then my arms were suddenly crushed and pinned under her knees. Before I even knew what was happening, the beating started.

Her fists pounded my flabby stomach. My grunts and moans made a continuous, pathetic noise as her punches punished me again and again. A series of lefts and rights pulverized my upper belly, then drifted down to either side of my bellybutton, then moved to my lower stomach. Then she concentrated on delivering rights, driving straight down into my navel again and again.

I have no idea how long this went on. Eventually, she either got tired or bored, and she leaned back, moving her full weight onto my head. I lay limp and motionless beneath her. The fight was over, obviously, but I was too hurt, winded and crushed to voice my submission. Even if I had, I don't know that she was satisfied yet. As I said, drama was important in anything Liz did. Destroying me was no exception. Her weight lifted off of me, but I lay exactly as she left me.

She was kneeling next to me, looking down at my red, sweating face. She seemed to be considering. She jabbed her fist into my belly again, watching, like she wanted to see what would happen. Nothing did. I still lay motionless, unable to think past the pounding ache in my gut. Then she straddled me once more, this time facing me. She leaned down onto her elbows and slid her long legs out behind her, stretching her full height out over me. She lowered herself and her weight, hot, soft, strong, crushed me to the floor. We were face to face as she took my wrists and stretched my arms out straight to the sides. Her gaze didn't waver and I couldn't help but meet it. She lifted up and dropped down on me again, more as a reminder than as an attack.

My head lolled from side to side slowly, then I saw a small, amused, wicked smirk cross her lips. Her eyes twinkled. Pushing up on her arms, she slid forward a bit, so her bare breasts dangled over my face. With a twitch of her shoulders she swung them, so they slapped softly against my eyes. That hurt me worse than all of the beatings she had delivered.

Her voice was soft, almost cooing. “Say it, Jim. Say it.” Her breasts brushed my face again. They were damp with more than sweat now and I realized I was crying.

My body demanded it even as my mind fought it. “I. . . I sub. . . mit.”

“You know I'm right, don't you? You know you're not man enough, don't you?” Her breast pressed down over my mouth, the hard nipple tickling my lips, then lifted. She had said this was about respect but, ultimately, it was about sex- sexual attraction. She seemed to have embraced that now.

“I know it.”

Again the soft pressure on my face. “Say it. You have to tell me I'm right.”

And I knew she was. We could never continue after this. “You're right.”

Her breasts hovered less than an inch over my eyes, quivering; a threat, a taunt, an unreachable height. “Say it,” she whispered.

“I'm not man enough for you. I. . . I'm sorry.”

For a moment I thought she would lower her breasts onto my face again, and now I yearned for it. They hung there, quivering, then lifted up and away. I watched them rise to a seemingly incredible height as Liz stood over me. Looking down into my face, she placed her right foot on my chest, hands on her hips. Her lips formed “good-bye,” and she left me there on the floor.

I never saw her again.