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  #41  
Old 22-Feb-17, 22:27
cashley216 cashley216 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Quote:
Originally Posted by l0000 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I have been reading your work for decades. The first was "Hands on HIPS," still favorite. Another featured three girls robbing a poor man's apartment of his paintings while one of them beats him up. I would love to see at least these two placed here or on D the V.

Ah, another pre-Internet survivor. Yes, Hands on Hips was the first story I went public with. 1974.

Thanks for writing. It was good to hear from you, and, yes, I DO hear the people who are asking for the old stories.

On another subject, addressed to all: If anybody who read the story above (Tease and Beat) and/or looked at the connected video knows of any similarly themed story or video, I'd love to hear about it, with thoughts of buying it. Thanks.
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  #42  
Old 12-Mar-17, 01:15
cashley216 cashley216 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

LIGHT SWITCH III: PAMMY

By BOS

This story is set in the context of Light Switch, a combat sport featuring battles of the sexes with an erotic motif. The matches are conducted before an audience and streamed on the internet. The name derives from the rule that the goal of the woman is to sexually arouse the male to a degree that is visibly obvious, with the judgement made by three of the four ringside judges. If she can do that 10 times, she wins. No more than five of the switch-ons can come in any one position. The male can win in any conventional way: pin, submission, knockout, even rape. Either contestant is permitted to try to strip the other. The woman may attempt to rape the man if she gets her 10 erections first.



Pammy was looking for a way demonstrate that she was not old. Light Switch was a hot new thing. She had done plenty of action roles, and she had worked hard to prepare for them. She had come away from some of her movies thinking that the action scenes weren’t all that unrealistic.
Her opponent was a former boyfriend, famous mainly for his connection with her. He knew a confrontation with Pammy would get him all manner of attention. At this stage about all he was known for besides her was that long, unruly hair. Pammy hated the hair. She had always been insulted that he didn’t try to make himself look better for her.

As required by the rules, he was dressed in a way that would make it clear to everyone when he was aroused.

Pammy was delighted that he was her opponent for several reasons. One, he was bigger than her and looked to be in good shape. She didn’t want be seen as beating up some little guy or fat old guy. She had no reason to believe Randy was much of a fighter, though she knew he thought of himself as one.

She dressed bodaciously. The high, high heels were necessary, notwithstanding the complications they posed for a fighter on a fairly soft mat. She was, after all, trying to sustain the old image. Also necessary was the famous red bathing suit that seemed to be squeezing her famous boobs out from the bottom, along with the extremely tightly cinched waist, the huge swaths of exposed skin, the overdone make-up and the fashionable hair-do. Her long legs were bare. The fingernails weren’t as outrageously long as in some settings, but they were just as red, as were the toenails. Her one-piece came up high off her hip and covered little. The butt was, indeed, as memorable as ever. And the hair was, of course, as blond as it was big.

She was worried about her mobility. But she did like the look.

She knew Randy would have sex on his mind from the start. She knew he had no qualms about doing anything to her, even in public. Maybe especially in public. He had a big smile on his face, but he came after her carefully. At first, Pammy didn’t come out of her corner at all. She was playing the girl. Let the guy make the first move. Just as in a flirting situation, he would have to commit himself first if he wanted her badly enough. She waited for him. This way she didn’t have to show right away that the heels were a bit of a maneuverability problem.

The fact that he moved slowly and she waited made the moment more sexual. As the anticipation rose, Pammy thought Randy was being foolish. He should know that in sexual situations she could keep her cool better than he could. But the nearness of her in her killer clothes brought out his stupidity. So she let him come.

As they came into contact in her corner, he was already hard, of course, and the judges announced that, giving Pammy one of her necessary 10 points. But Randi had always known that would happen, and he wasn’t worried.

Now Pammy had to soften him, so as to be able to harden him again. She knew that would require a very big distraction from sex, probably in the form of major pain for Randy. He knew enough to be on guard against a knee in the balls as tried to paw her there in the corner. What he did not know was that when – after semi-playfully brushing his aggressive hands away for a while – she put her arms around him, that was the beginning of a sequence that entailed pulling in on the small of his back while wrapping an ankle around one of his knees and pushing with her body so that he fell on his back, enabling her then to him knee in his balls.

She almost regretted doing that, feeling that maybe she should have saved the move. But it was so tempting, so easy. And she knew that if she didn’t do it, falling on top of the man would just make him all the hornier. Now she got off him as he curled up and softened quickly. She had flicked him on and off with incredible ease.

She knelt next to him, brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes and then one out of his eyes, his long, largely untended locks giving her an idea. She took gentle hold of the head of the marginally mobile male, pulled it toward her and rested her boobs on it, extending her long legs behind her flat. It was difficult for him to breathe, and it became more difficult as she pulled his head deeper into her softness with a strength that surprised him. When he was getting no air, he pushed against her, something he had never done before and never thought he would do. But she held on and held him. As her torso rose a bit from the mat, so did his, because she held him. And he still wasn’t breathing much. He twisted and turned to no avail. He tried to punch her, but he couldn’t get any power into it. As he sank back to toward the mat, Pammy flashed her huge trademark smile for the crowd, wanting everybody to know that she was dominating this bad boy easily. She had him pinned and practically smothered, but not so smothered that he wasn’t aware of her allures. His arousal was obvious – for the second time.

She let him go, which frustrated him as much as it brought him welcome breath. Quickly she grabbed his hair and began to drag him around the ring by it, standing behind, his butt dragging along the mat. Before long, the judges signaled that she had accomplished her second switching off with the pain and humiliation of the hair-pulling.

Then, before Randy knew that his super gorgeous ex was done dragging him, and while he was still focused on the pain in his head and on the prospect of more pain, suddenly his face was smack in her armpit. She had not dropped his hair until she had pulled him backwards into a position from which she could pit him easily. Then, as with the boob smother, she leaned down to flatten him on his back. She placed her lips on the exposed part of his head, while his lips, nose and eyes were encompassed by her flesh. Others might not have known that he would find this erotic. But Pammy knew that any part of her anatomy could turn him on. When he was successfully switched on for the third time for all to see, she tightened her grip violently. With that, in just that moment, the erotic to the life-threatening. Pammy knew that guy was off for sure. And totally disoriented.

Pammy also knew that when Randy was in deep trouble, he would panic. But she knew how to calm him down, too. She eased up on her squeeze and began to kiss him gently on his head. She could tell he was still somewhat faint. She ran her fingers lightly over his face. That’s how little it took to bring the man back from hell toward heaven. She was able to flick him on, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. That was four.

But as she was kissing and stroking him, she also maneuvered her body behind him. Now the beautiful babe lifted the horny man’s back off the mat, so that he was in a sitting position. Then she put her weight on his back and had him folded over into a little package, his face at the level of his legs. He could have kissed his ankles. He was not a flexible person, though. As the babe leaned over his back and grabbed his ankles and pulled – bending the man’s back more than it had ever been bent – he was in major pain, and he thought his back or something was going to break. That thought – so easily imposed on him by his ex – flicked him off.

Pammy had to let him straighten out so that the judges could see his midsection. She simply let go of his ankles and backed off him. He flopped backwards almost violently, like a spring. He was grateful to be able to lie flat, even though that showed everybody what the judges needed to see. His head had landed on Pammy’s lap. It took little adjustment for her to slide a bit backwards, let his head plop to the mat and then, holding him flat with a hand on his chest, take a seat on his face. She did this while doing a split. She wanted everybody to see that she could still do a split. She raised her hands above her head like a gymnast completing a routine or a wrestler winning a match. The man was, of course, trying to twist out of his position, but his back was hurting and he was dizzy and confused and weakened. He felt like everything he did just made things worse. So he moved tentatively. Having his face sat on by this spectacular beauty wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him that night, after all. Just about as quickly as he had that thought, he was hard. Flick. That made five.

Pammy was dominating the man so completely and so easily, both sexually and combatively, that she almost would have felt like a bully if she didn’t know that he was getting some sexual thrills that he had no other way of getting, not from her, the woman still of his dreams, as of so many other men. Anyway, he had gotten himself into this. He should have known what she could do. His silly male ego just wouldn’t let him believe it. His problem.

Pammy knew the rest would be even easier. She leaned forward from her perch and she brought her legs together around his head in a reverse scissors. She could have used his move to flick him on, but he was already on. Making use of the fact that he was distracted by the feel of her luscious thighs, she was able to reach out and grab one of his ankles and pull it toward her. She had it placed on top of his other thigh, which pretty much took that other leg out of the fight. And she pull on the ankle and twisted it in a way that had the inevitable result of bringing his attention to the extreme and unsexy pain at his lower extremities. That flicked him off again. When, later, he saw pictures of this scene, with his head in Pammy’s upper thighs and her ass bulging gloriously almost within kissing range, he could hardly believe he wasn’t turned on at the time. He knew just about every other guy in the building was. And those other guys weren’t even enjoying the feel of Pammy.

Pammy loved demonstrating to the world that her power to inflict pain on this all-guy guy was as great as her power to inflict lust upon him, that she could do either at her whim. It made her feel like the woman she wanted to be.

She leaned over to lie on her side, so the judges could see the part of Randy they needed to see. Then she flamboyantly opened her legs by raising the top one to a 90-degree angle – demonstrating that youthful flexibility again – and let her prey free, with him having the full knowledge that it was an act of mercy – perhaps temporary mercy – on the part of the lovely woman who was making him her toy.

As he sat up gingerly – a certain dizziness slowing him as much as his back pain – she scooted into a body-scissors position and wrapped her arms almost gently over his far arm, with his near arm squashed between her and him. When she leaned to her side, he fell to his back. Just like that, the beautiful woman had asserted final, complete control. She treated him gently at his top, brushing her lips against him and letting him feel her spectacular boobs, if only with his one helpless arm. That flicked her prey on for all too see. Then she tightened her legs, hurting and scaring him. Her power seemed limitless. The safety of his ribs was at her mercy. He could breathe only if her devastatingly lovely legs let up on him.

She whispered in his ear, “You’re mine, Randy. I own you. I own you for all the world to see.” Her breath, the brush of her lips and the temporary softness of her legs turned him on again. Even while holding him in her utter control, she had gone all girly on him. And, in that position, that was all it took.

But then she would go all womanly and hard again, which flicked him off. On. Off. On. Off. He was, indeed, only a switch for her.

His will didn’t matter. His testosterone didn’t matter. His size didn’t matter. The wirey muscles he was so proud of didn’t matter. And by now he knew all this. This was all her. There could be no denying the completeness and ease of her utter control, her dominance over this larger man who lusted after her body so violently and so pathetically.

When Pammy was done – and the judges indicated that – Pammy gave Randy one last violent squeeze. It took whatever had been left in him out of him. She stood above him, raised one foot, took off her high heel, and placed her bare foot down on the man’s face. Pammy gloried in the moment and put her hair into place as the man just waited under her for his humiliation to end. The audience applauded her and struggled not to use their own hands on themselves until they could have some privacy. Pammy knew she was teasing them almost as much as the man below her, and that, in turn, made her hot in the extreme. She loved it.

Finally, after letting Pammy stretch moment and stretch it some more, the female announcer entered the ring and put a microphone in Pammy’s face, a familiar and comfortable occurrence for Pammy. The announcer said, “Well, Pammy, I think that must be a world’s speed record for 10 on-off switchings. In fact, I don’t think it would be physically possible for anybody to do that any faster. And yet you didn’t seem to be rushing at all, but rather casually taking your time. Are you satisfied with your performance?”

Pammy: “Well, I didn’t see any point in rushing or in pretending Randy is a challenge for me. So here we are.”

Question: “Are you going to, shall we say, have your way with him now?”

Pammy put her hand on her chin as if thinking. She was worried that her victory had looked so easy that it would be attributed to his weaknesses rather than her abilities. She needed something more. The crowd cheered, “Rape! Rape! Rape!” But Pammy wasn’t sure that was the image she was going for.

Pammy: “Let’s keep that option open and explore the other options.”

Other suggestions were shouted from the audience: “Strip him!” “Tie him up!” “Tie him up naked on a pole!” “Jerk him off!” “Make him jerk off!” “Make him beg!” “Make him cry!” “Make him run!” “Make him go down on you!” “Put him in a dress.” But Pammy was waiting for one in particular. Before long it came in various forms: “Cut his hair!” “Shave him!” Even “Wash his hair!”

Oh, yes, she thought. Yes. Yes. YES!

She called for a scissors – of the metallic, not the fleshy kind. She went to work on him as he struggled pathetically. She controlled him easily, making good use of fleshy scissors, her armpits and her boobs. As she worked, staff went to get her hot water, soap and a towel. She shaved him everyplace. Everyplace. Completely. Bald. Then she stood with her foot once again on the face of the naked, beaten, tamed, now hairless man and threw kisses to the crowd, confident that she was back in a big way.
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  #43  
Old 15-May-17, 08:42
cashley216 cashley216 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Ellyot’s Revenge
By BOS

Ellyot discovered her physical dominance over J.D. almost by accident. One morning, when J.D. had an early shift at the hospital, she playfully wrapped her arms around him from behind as he was starting to get out of bed. She was lying on her side. Then she threw one of her long legs over his legs. He said, “C’mon, I’ve got to go to work.” She said, “No,” and snuggled against him tightly. He couldn’t get free, even when he increased the intensity of his effort.

Long before she knew she could dominate him physically, she knew that he was hers sexually. The very thought of her seemed to turn him on. Certainly, the touch of her did. Just about any kind of touch.

Now she nibbled on his ear, and his struggles to get free weakened. “Come on, really,” he said.

They were both young doctors at the same hospital. Being late to work was no small matter. He had an earlier shift than her on this day. Finally, Ellyot let him go. But then she had second thoughts. After we was dressed and on his way out the door, she again wrapped her arms around him from behind. She pulled, and there was a little sort-of tug of war. He held on to the door knob, sort of laughing. But before long he let go, and his girlfriend was pulling him back to the bedroom. He couldn’t get a grip on anything as she dragged him, and he was unable to stop her. Now they were both back on the bed, with the tall, thin beautiful blonde behind her taller, thin husband and in control.

Eventually, to the surprise of both of them, they realized that he wasn’t going anyplace until she let him. In fact, she was holding him easily. If he started making some progress at prying her long, elegantly polished fingers apart, she put her weight on him, maneuvered until he had only one shoulder on the mattress while the other was in contact with her chest, and she put her wrists down by the narrow part of his waist and pulled. That constriction of his stomach hurt him, and he was back to square one in trying to win his release.

Eventually, though, she let him go to work.

Back home in the evening, neither said anything about the events of the morning. However, J.D. had his plan. He waited until Ellyot had her back turned to him in the kitchen. Then he playfully wrapped his arms around her, saying, “I was thinking maybe we finish what we started this morning.” He wanted it to sound like he meant sex. But he also wanted to be the one who did the dragging. However, Ellyot lowered one shoulder, turned into him and maneuvered until she held him from the side, in a standing version of the hold she had applied that morning, when was trying to pry her fingers apart in bed. When she tugged her hands together, he folded over in a way that allowed her to get behind him. Now, once again, J.D.’s pretty young girlfriend was pulling him toward the bed. She said, “I think this is what we started this morning.”

Once on the bed, Ellyot did not exactly give way to male initiative. She was all over J.D., kissing him, taking his clothes off and feeling him up. She knew that, whether this was what he had in mind or not, it was turning him on so hard that he would not be complaining. She drove him crazy. When she was done, she got up and went about her business whistling, as if it had been a normal love-making session.

J.D. tried to think that she hadn’t exactly beaten him, because, after all, a normally horny guy doesn’t resist when his beautiful girlfriend wants sex. But he was having trouble believing what he wanted to believe, and he was having trouble deciding whether to talk about it or not.

Finally, sitting next to her on the living room couch, he said, “I didn’t realize you were so, uh, physical.”

“Oh, please,” she said. “You always knew I’m into it.”

“No, I mean,” he started to say. But she was stroking him suggestively, and he lost his way. Soon she had his shirt up over his head, and had him flat on his back.

“Not enough room here,” she said, and she scooped him up with one arm under his knees and one under his head and carried him into the bedroom in the position of a new husband carrying his bride across the threshold. She plopped him on the bed. He never would have believed she could get him going as soon after that as she did. But she had him on fire in seconds. Once she had him fully turned on, she stopped, grabbed his head and pulled it toward her, holding it at her bosom. She said, “I’m going to make you hard and soft five before we do it. I think it’ll be better for both of us that way.” The way she got him soft was to hold his nose with two fingers while her same hand held his mouth shut by pushing up on the underside of his chin. Eventually he was able to get free – or she let him go – but not before he was soft.

The second time she made him soft it was simply by wrapping her legs around him and squeezing until he was no longer thinking about sex. The third it was by noticing that his arm was in awkward and slightly painful position and deciding to push it into a hammerlock, while lying on his back and keeping him pressed to the mattress.

The five cycles happened. After they had done it, she let him rest for about 45 minutes. When she came back into the bedroom, he was still on the bed. He said, “I really don’t think….”

She interrupted him. “Oh, really,” she said. “Well, I think we’ll see about that. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who determines whether you can or can’t. We’re going to play the same game with the same rules. And I’m pretty sure you’ll love it. Five times.”

She did the five. Then she did him. And he did.

It wasn’t long before Ellyot was wondering who else’s ass she could – and would want to – kick so easily. Her thoughts turned inevitably to Dr. Cox and his wife Jordan. They had tormented and teased her mercilessly for six years, after she had arrived as a naïve and nervous intern from Connecticut. She was a pushover, and they had pushed. Now she wanted to push back hard enough to make up for those six years – quickly. However, she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for either of them. One of them was an ostentatiously buff jock of quarterback size. And the other was scarier.

Ellyot felt she needed an intermediate challenge. She thought of Keith Dudemeister, the young doctor who had been trashing her all over the hospital -- and the medical community generally -- after she had dumped him, virtually at the altar – twice. He had Ellyot-lust even worse than J.D., and he was having difficulty coping with the idea of living his entire life without her. Those legs! That touch! That body! That schoolgirl naivete and enthusiasm.That eagerness to please.

When they were a couple, he was always trying to get her to wrestle. He had wrestled scholastically, and he was heavier than she was, though not taller. He apparently thought he was pretty good. She had not really resisted in their games, but in a little corner of her consciousness, she thought she had sensed some weaknesses on his part. He had done some things that seemed stupid and poorly executed.

Part of her felt that thinking about picking a fight with him – with anybody, but certainly with the buff and athletic young former wrestler – was bizarre, just beyond-the-pale weird. But once the idea occurred to her, it owned her.

She knew that it was silly to think that she could beat up Keith just because she could beat up J.D. But, as she thought about it, she wondered if maybe J.D. could give Keith a better fight than he could give her. She wasn’t sure he couldn’t.

Anyway, she just simply wanted to do this. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. Eventually she simply knew it was going to happen, and that was that.

She fantasized about fighting Keith (as she knew he had fantasized about fighting her). The thought turned her on something fierce. And J.D. benefited and paid the price, depending on how you want to look at it. Her desire turned into an obsession over the week she thought about it.

She would confront her ex at his apartment and let him know that she was angry about the vicious insults he was spreading about her and the names he was calling her – “cock sucking bitch whore cunt” and such -- and that it all had to stop, right now.

She dressed in a way she knew would drive him crazy: all dolled up, wearing the perfume he obsessed about. One shoulder was bare. Her blond hair hung down. Her top hugged her body and showed much of it. Under a moderately tight, moderately short skirt, she wore dark nylons and garters, and the briefest of panties. She had high heels, red lipstick and blue eye shadow. She carried her earrings with her, knowing that he could be nearly mesmerized by the sight of her putting them on.

He invited her in. He never dreamed, of course, that she was looking for a physical fight. She didn’t want to sucker punch him or anything, because that would not provide a good measure of her fighting ability. At a certain stage in the argument, she said, “Since you obviously have no sense of chivalry, no sense that there’s a right way to treat a lady, I’ve decided not to be lady about this. I know you always wanted to fight with me. Here’s your chance. I’m here to kick your ass, you whiny, foul-mouthed, woman-hating, little loser. Let’s see if you’ll ever talk that way about somebody who fights back.” She pushed him on the chest, hard.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said. She slapped him hard across the face, then, as he started to say something, hard across the other cheek with her other hand.
Now, indeed, he would enjoy putting those years of wrestling to use, though he didn’t think he would need them against her. She felt she had to let him make the first move, in keeping with her purpose of testing herself.

He grabbed her arms, assuming he could control them, and pushed her toward a wall. A knee to the balls would also not serve her purpose, though it was tempting. She simply jumped and threw her legs around him from the front. When she had started dominating J.D., she was surprised at the effectiveness of her arms. But long before that she had had some confidence in her long legs. Now she wrapped them around Dudemeister so that her feet were behind his knees. When they arrived at the wall, the bounce off it actually had the effect of bending him backwards farther than he could take, and he went down to his back. As he turned to his side – faster than he should have, given that he was shaken up by the fall – she did something that had worked well against J.D.: She locked in her side bear hug, squeezing him where he was at his smallest, down near his waist. It proved as painful to Keith as to J.D. And she loved it.

She loved the grunt he gave out, his second one in just a few seconds, after the one when he fell to his back. She loved the grimace on his face. She was getting turned on. She ground the side bear hug in a rhythmic movement that was almost sensual, as the same time digging her chin hard into his shoulder and moaning a little herself. “Oh, yes,” she said.

The confused and pained man managed finally to turn to his stomach. From there, his hot opponent – the woman of his dreams who had broken his heart – now locked in a body scissors that seemed like it could break his back. It showed her legs way up passed her garters. When she sat back and had him sitting between her legs, his hands were drawn to those delectable gams. He had always wanted to touch them anyway whenever he was near her. He had always dreamed of them when he wasn’t near her. One hand went to the fully exposed meaty part of her thigh.

“This is no time to feel me up, Buddy Boy,” she said, giving him a jolt of her leg power. Now he would have very different thoughts about those legs.
She flipped him over onto his back, took a position lengthwise on top of him and took hold of his head in both her arms and brought it to her bosom.
She said, “I hope this is living up to your dreams of what it would be like to wrestle me when I’m really trying. Is it good for you?” She pulled his head harder toward her and squeezed hard with her re-applied scissors, at the same time exerting downward pressure on his body with her legs, in effect pulling his torso away from his head.

He groaned hard, sounding scared, and he said, “OK. You win.”

Ellyot was not ready for that. She had thought she was in for a long, hard fight and that a prideful wrestler like Keith wouldn’t concede even when if he was facing prolonged and intense pain. But here she had beaten him in minutes, despite giving him the first move and not even going for his balls. The situation sent a thrill through her body.

She realized she could extract a promise from him right then to reform his behavior. But she wanted to take this a little slower. And, anyway, what she really wanted in the long run was for him to make that concession when she wasn’t holding him. That would conclusively demonstrate to both of them his fear of her, his realization that she could apply the pain any time she wanted to, not just in this one hold in this one situation.

The thought of making him afraid of her aroused her more than beating him did. She wanted to stay inside his head when she was not near him physically. She wanted to be in his nightmares as well as his dreams. And even beyond that, the thought of a beautiful, elegant blonde n scaring the hell of out of a young jock – a former wrestler at that – was just SO hot. He would be in her dreams, too.

She unwrapped him, got up, straightened her clothes and went to a wall mirror. Her back to him, she brushed her hair and fixed her make-up. She put on her earrings, knowing he wouldn’t miss a bit of the show. She said, “There’s a lot more where that came from, Keithy Boy. You want some?” She didn’t mean the show, and he slowly came to realize that.

She was amazed to hear herself talk that way. But the words just came out. Like Thelma and Louise, she was discovering a part of herself she never imagined was there.

“Or do you want to save yourself some pain and start behaving the way I tell you to?” Her words turned her on even more.

“You’re crazy, Bitch,” he said, struggling to his feet.

Music to her ears.

She turned to him and raised one of her long, limber captivating legs – showing a benefit of those years of dance training – until it was pointing straight up over her head. She held it up with her hand around her ankle. Keith found it – as she knew he would – a devastatingly sexy sight, the likes of which he had never seen her show before. The creamy parts of both of her thighs were on full display, made all the creamier and more enticing by contrast with the dark nylons and the garters. And her black panties covered very little.

“I know how much you want this, Keithy Boy,” she said. “So much you can hardly stand it. I haunt your dreams. Everybody knows it. And I just get hotter all the time, don’t I? I make that girl you used to be so hung up on look almost boring, don’t I? Well, I’ll tell you what: If you can get this” – she indicated her body – “you can have it. How’s that? No law. No charges. Just you and me. Man vs. woman. You get to be the caveman. Wanna go for it? Or are you scared, now that I kicked your ass once, and so easily at that?”

She knew what the answer would be. This guy was simply not able to turn this down. His ego, his lust and his anger (pre-existing and greatly enhanced) all pushed him in the same direction.

He approached her cautiously, not knowing for sure what she might do with that leg. She feinted as if to bring it down on him, and he jumped back. She smiled. Then she did bring her leg down, in the process bending at her waist remarkably fast and diving at his legs. She brought him down in a football tackle, basically, and she continued in a somersault over him, her legs flashing.

She came up standing behind him, if a bit unsteadily at first. He had no idea where she was. He looked to both sides before looking to his rear. She gave him the time to find her. As he turned to her and began to rise to his feet, his head was near her, and she put it between her legs, in a standing leg scissors. She bent over and reached her arms under his and pulled up. Now he was helpless.

“I hereby give you permission to feel up my legs with your ears, Keithy,” she said.

Eventually, she dropped down to her knees. That didn’t bring his face into contact with the floor, but it sure scared the hell out of him. She slapped him on the ass and stood up over him.

“You are a very, very bad wrestler, Dudemeister,” she said. “I know playgrounds you wouldn’t stand a chance at. Outside girls schools!”

She dropped her knees to his shoulders as he was starting to rise, slamming him to the floor.

Then, from in front of him, she reached her hand under his chin and raised him to his feet. She pushed him toward a wall, slamming him into it by thrusting her hip into his torso. She slammed her hip into him again while her hands were at the neck of his shirt and she banged his head into the wall. That hurt his head and robbed him of more wind. She shot a punch into his stomach, and when he doubled over, she kneed him in the chest. He crumbled to his knees.

She loved this. It was exceeding her dreams in the satisfaction it was bringing her. She had to tell herself not to get carried away, lest she injure him permanently or kill him.

But she wasn’t ready to stop. The thought of his face right down there by her pussy was just too much to pass up. She lifted his head by his chin and put her other hand behind his neck and pulled him right into her, then mashed his head around. She was getting hotter and hotter.

Then, before he could get himself together enough to try to grab her legs, she stepped toward him and pushed the back of his head into the wall, where, instead of grinding his head into her, she ground her midsection into his face. God, how she loved this. She thought she could have brought herself to a climax right there. Instead, though, she put her arms under his armpits and lifted him to his feet and banged him into the wall with her hip again. She again grabbed his shirt near his neck. She loved this position, too: having a bigger, buff guy literally up against a wall. She had fantasized about this very position, and here it was.

His hands were trying to pull hers away from him. But she pulled him toward her and put her lips next to his ear, lightly touching him, and she said, “You’re mine, Babe. I own you.” Then she kissed him full on the lips and said, “Do you still want to have sex with me, even when I do this?” She punched him in the gut. He wanted to fold over, but her shoulder blocked him. “And this?” She slammed him against the wall with her hands on his shirt. “And this.” She took hold of his wrists and slammed them back over his head, pinned to the wall. She started to kiss him. He turned his face away from her. She loved that. She could hardly believe this was happening, it was so much fun.

“Aw, don’t be that way, Baby. You know I love you. I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning,” she said, continuing to kiss him and loving how he resisted. Pressed up against him hard, she said, “Your face says ‘No,’ but your dick says, ‘More, please.’” She leaned into him, cheek to cheek. She said, “I told you I own you now, Lover Boy. Your dick does what I want it to do, not what you want. It knows who’s the boss here. Now I want it soft. Check it out.” With that she head-butted him like the soccer player she had been briefly in high school.

With him stunned, and with his hands still up over his head against the wall, she reversed her hands, so that her right was now holding his right, and her left his left. And she pulled on both of his hands, so that his head was now wrapped in his own arms. She pulled further on both his hands, wrenching his shoulders. Then she tugged some more. She was now pulling his hands from below. He struggled to get his hands free. She said, “See, there: Soft as a baby. Now it’s going back hard.”

With that she eased up a little on the downward pressure on his hands, and she leaned into him, cheek to cheek, sensuously rubbing against him. That was all it took. She would come to think of that effect as resulting from her perfume lock. “There you go,” she said. “Back to normal. At least normal when you’re around me.”

She felt she could continue messing with him like this all day if she wanted to. And she felt that he knew it.

But she stepped slightly back and raised her leg high and put her foot at his throat, slamming him back again.

That presented him with a spectacular view – again. But he couldn’t avail himself of it completely. Mainly he struggled against the pressure of her high-heeled foot. She said, “You’re pathetic, Dudemeister. You were always pathetic, I guess, but I think I have now really brought it out in you.” He pawed at her leg. “Don’t bother, Mr. Wrestler Man. I could not only hold you like this all day. I could kill you like this. Right here. Right now. Easy. Do you understand that?” He was silent. She pressed into him, choking him. He gurgled something. She said, “Wait a minute. Let me ease up a little here so I can hear what you’re trying to say so pathetically.”

He said, “Yes.”

She said, “Now let me get this straight. You’re saying that the babe in high heels who’s showing you these fabulous smooth, soft and oh-so-alluring thighs under this girly girl dress, and who has beaten you up without so much as messing her hair or make-up or losing her jewelry, could kill you now by just leaning in a little, like this….” She did and he gurgled and panicked and flayed. She eased up.

“And you’re scared to death of little old me. Is that what you’re saying?”

He said “Yes.”

She said, “Wow.” He didn’t know that that word had two meanings for her: Wow, was he ever pathetic; that was for his hearing. And wow, was this ever fun and was she ever horny; that meaning was for her.

She dropped her foot and turned her back on him, checking herself out in a mirror. “This must be just SO awful for you, Keithy. I mean, you have dreamed for years about getting me to wrestle with you for real. And now you get your dream fulfilled, and it turns into a nightmare.”

“But,” she continued, “it’s not even over. I’m thinking about raping you up the ass. That would be the perfect ending, don’t you think? Especially since you just tried to rape me.”

She turned toward him. “You should probably just try to relax and enjoy it, Keithy, my boy, since there’s not a thing in the world you can do about it.” She walked toward him. He put out his hands in defense. She smiled and – moving more quickly than he could even dream of moving now -- ducked and rammed one of her shoulders into his midsection and rose with the man on her shoulder, winded.

She had needed to test her strength.

She turned and deposited her male package on a couch, seated.
As he started to rise, she met him with a kick to his jaw, and he fell back.
The unruffled, fresh-as-a-daisy beauty said, “You can’t even stand up if I don’t want you to, Keithy boy. Go ahead, try again.” He did, but he needed his hands to push off with. So he had no defense against the kick that hit the side of his head. Now the woman was standing there with her hands on her hips.

“Come on, Keithy. I’m going to no-hands this. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He thought that instead of trying to stand, he’d dive for her legs. That got him a knee to his face. And that robbed him of any further desire to rise.
“Oh, I love that look on your face, Keithy. It turns me on like nothing you’ve ever done before.” She bent and reached for his shirt again at his neck. He put his hands up to resist her, but he was met by a backhand of her right hand to his right cheek, then a forehand of the same hand to his other cheek.
Her fingers were long and slim, and her fingernails were colorfully polished, and the second slap – the one with her open palm – felt almost sexy, he thought for a second.

But he was done for. She now put that feminine hand behind his head and thrust him to the floor, face first, and she mounted him. She used her legs to wrap around his and sweep his knees out from under him, and she used her arms to sweep his arms, so he was lying prone under the beautiful, elegantly dressed woman on top of him, her hips thrusting into his from behind. She did it 20 times, getting herself hotter and hotter.

When she was done, she said, “I hope it was good for you, Babe.” She patted his head. And she said, “I also hope you keep bad mouthing me, because next time, maybe I’ll have a better excuse for doing it for real. I suggest you always remember that I could. Easily.”

She stood and flipped him over onto his back with one foot. Then she stood with her ankles on each side of his neck, touching it. She said, “Now, Keithy, I want you to look me straight in the panties and tell me you’re afraid of me. Or look at my upper, inner thighs. Your choice.” He said nothing, just soaking in the view. She applied some pressure with her ankles. It did scare him. A lot! He felt, in fact, that he was on the edge of death, and her couldn’t budge her legs.

“OK,” he rasped.

“Say it,” she said.

“I’m afraid of you.”

She loved that so much she could have fucked him right there. But she was thinking of an even bigger reward.

She said, “I can’t wait until the next time I see you at work,” she said. “Everybody will be so surprised that you’re not badmouthing me anymore. And we’ll just keep the reason our little secret. Maybe.” She paused.

“I know one thing:” she said. “I’m going to make you declare your fear of this bad only body there, too. That’ll be SO hot. And if you refuse, I’ll find a way to work you over right there, until you do say it. You know I can do it.”

Slowly, casually, she took her departure – knowing his eyes were on her ass all the way, that, in fact, he was sad when stopped straddling him -- and went home to find J.D. She wanted to see what she could do about her horniness.

Her mind was conjuring up lots of long-term scenarios. She imagined keeping Keith as hot at the hospital all day as she kept J.D., shoving him into supply rooms, working him up, and leaving him high and dry. She loved that thought. And might she add Dr. Cox to the list. Then she’d feel like the queen of the world, the ruler.

Now, more than ever, she had to know if she could do that.
But she planned to start with Jordan. Her next day at work, she went looking for her. She was getting all worked up with thoughts of her plans. But she wasn’t finding Jordan, and as she passed Dr. Cox’s office, she knew she needed SOME kind of action.

She shrugged her shoulders and went in.

“Go away, Barbie,” he said. “This is a place for the grown-ups.”

He was standing at a file cabinet. She walked up to him casually and simply grabbed him by the balls, one of her hands coming at him from behind and one from in front. He sputtered and “What the fuck”-ed. As he struggled, she drove him toward a couch and fell on top of him, still clutching him. He twisted and turned and groaned and swore, but she was in complete control. She rode him down like a cowgirl on a bull. When he’d calm down, she’d do some more damaged and ride him down again. Before long, he was obviously beaten. But she didn’t let him go. She goosed him hard and rode him down again. Then again. Then she kissed him on the cheek and laughed and stood and turned her back on the helpless bully and rucked her skirt back down into a ladylike position. She left without looking back, thrilled with how that had gone. J.D. reaped the benefits that night.

The next day, Dr. Cox sent a messenger to Ellyot telling her she was to report to his office. When she walked in, he was standing in front of his desk. She pointed at his crotch. Then she wasted no time. She faked a kick at his crotch. When he backed up and brought his hands to a protective position, she came at him faster than he was moving. She took the position as the previous day, and she rode him down in the exact same way, then ended it in the same way. She turned her back on him, rucked her skirt into place again, and left the same way. Without looking back, she said, “You’re going to have to get yourself some protection down there. Then we’ll see.”

As she left his office, Jordan was approaching it. Ellyot was too worked up to be cautious. She put her arm around Jordan’s shoulder and said, “Just the girl I was looking for. You’re going to need to come with me.”
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Old 22-May-17, 03:58
l0000 l0000 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Wonderful! I hope you will continue with Jordan.
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Old 31-Jan-20, 23:55
l0000 l0000 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Still great and exciting!
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Old 01-Feb-20, 03:44
HermanDG HermanDG is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Really great writing. A superb narrative that puts you in these scenes

Nice!
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Old 01-Feb-20, 06:37
scarletspider scarletspider is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Quote:
Originally Posted by cashley216 [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Ah, another pre-Internet survivor. Yes, Hands on Hips was the first story I went public with. 1974.

Thanks for writing. It was good to hear from you, and, yes, I DO hear the people who are asking for the old stories.

On another subject, addressed to all: If anybody who read the story above (Tease and Beat) and/or looked at the connected video knows of any similarly themed story or video, I'd love to hear about it, with thoughts of buying it. Thanks.
wow! does anyone have this "tease and beat" story? love to read!!!
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  #48  
Old 01-Feb-20, 23:31
cashley216 cashley216 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

10k,

Thanks for getting me my 15 minutes of attention on the board with the three posts.

They didn't exactly generate a tidal wave of response, did they?

Oh, well. They did spur me to finish something I've been sort of working on. I'll will post it.

(In response to another question: The "Tease and Beat" story is on this string.)
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Old 02-Feb-20, 04:41
baller2242 baller2242 is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

I've read all the BOS stories both here and DTV. Enjoyed them all!! Please keep more coming as the inspiration hits you.
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Old 02-Feb-20, 13:45
galaxy advisory galaxy advisory is offline
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Default Re: BOS stories

Bravo, very nicely done, I remember your stories fondly!
Tidal waves notwithstanding, appreciation is still appreciation.
The handful of nice responses I received for a story months ago, written on a lark, still make me smile.
Thanks much for this!
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