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  #1  
Old 19-Feb-15, 17:50
smirnoff smirnoff is offline
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Default One-hundred percent scissors

Jake was getting antsy. He was partners with Lucy, a friend of his, in a small gift shop that they’d opened together with the proviso that they’d split the proceeds right down the middle. But as time wore on and Jake found himself working at the shop more and more, in addition to doing the books, advertising in local papers and maintaining their business website, he was increasingly annoyed at Lucy’s lack of participation.
“Dammit, I’m putting my heart and soul into this operation and that little bitch comes and goes as she pleases,” he groused to himself one night sitting at home in his tiny one-bedroom apartment on the poor side of town, working yet again on the website, while Lucy, as she’d told him earlier, was at a party downtown living it up with her rich friends. “Fuck, I’m so tired of getting porked like this, this shit has got to stop!”
Lucy had another job and couldn’t be as much a part of the day-to-day operation as Jake. She did work when she could, and always steered her friends toward their shop when they were in a gift-buying mood, which was practically always given Lucy’s friends’ endless penchant for shopping, but it wasn’t enough to warrant a 50-50 split of the take in Jake’s overworked eyes. So one day he decided to have it out with Lucy and demand more of a percentage once and for all. He’d brought up his perceived screwing over in the past, and hadn’t gotten anywhere. But enough was enough, and it was, as far as Jake was concerned, push-come-to-shove time.
“Uh, Lucy, you have a minute, now that you’re actually here?” Jake asked her sarcastically one day at the shop, during a lull in the mid-afternoon hours, when she’d stopped by to work for a little while before heading to the beach. “I think there’s something we need to discuss.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. She hated hearing Jake’s bullshit of how overworked he was, how unfair things were, how he had no life since his was dedicated to the business while she had a decent life, a boyfriend, the works. She folded her arms defensively as Jake stood before her in the little office out back, towering over the little man, her 5-11, 140 pound frame dwarfing his 5-6, 160.
“Look, I’ve put up with this shit long enough, dammit, and I want more,” he whined nasally, looking up at the rugged blonde, trying to ignore the powerful muscles in her arms as she crossed them in her tiny tank top. “I think you know how much I do around here.”
She put her arms down to her side, her fingertips grazing the sides of her muscular thighs that were exposed in the tiny short beach skirt she wore, her outfit covering the flimsiest white bikini she could find and one that barely stayed on her towering, athletic body. She glared at Jake.
“We have a deal, little man, a deal is a deal,” she growled. “I get 50 percent, you get 50 percent. Any other questions?”
“Dammit, unfair, unfair!” he squealed, jumping up and down, punching his own little palm for emphasis. “I do all the work around here, Lucy, and that’s just not fair!!!”
“What do you want, Jake, 55 percent, 60 percent, 70?” she barked.
“Christ sakes alive, Lucy, I just want what’s fair and I do easily 80 percent of the work here, so I’d say 80 percent of the revenue is fair,” he said, standing before her, cranking his neck to look up.
“How about I give you 100 percent, Jake, that work for you? You want 100 percent?”
“Well, geez Louise Lucy, I don’t think that’s fair to you, I mean 100 percent of the business?”
“No, Jake,” she snapped, suddenly whipping him into a bruising side headlock and easily bulldogging him to the floor where she savagely snapped her long, strong legs around his slim middle. “One-hundred percent OF MY SCISSORS!!!”
Jake howled in agony as Lucy relinquished the headlock to lay on her side, leaning up on one elbow and brushing her short skirt aside to reveal the crusher of a thigh mashing its way through Jake’s collapsing middle. The little man lay face up in his partner’s leggy vice grip, his eyes shut, his face a mask of pain and terror, screaming in agony. Lucy’s thigh was so big, and the little man’s torso so small, it practically covered the entire thing, one huge plank of muscular leg squeezing the air from the howling little fellow.
“Oh, poor, poor JAKE!” she growled, snapping her legs down with a savage scissors jolt on his name. “Poor, poor JAKE! I am SO fucking tired of your martyr bullshit, little man, you know that? The only thing more unattractive about you than your tiny little body is your fucking PERSECUTION COMPLEX!!! And I’m gonna squeeze that outta you right fucking NOW!”
She let go the bodyscissors to pull his face to her thong-clad crotch and lather the sides of his moaning head in thigh, thick, muscular, tanned thigh. Her quads exploded under her tight skin and the interiors of her rock-ribbed thighs felt like chiseled steel against Jake’s face. She cupped the back of his head in her hands and pulled him in hard, snapping her thighs in little chewing motions on his face and neck, vibrating the sheer bulk of her scissoring legs until they undulated madly against him, eliciting a low, sickly moan from the battered man’s lips.
“One-hundred percent scissor squeeze, Jake, 100 fucking percent,” she hissed, hunched over his crying face then leaning back on the floor, back arched into a perfect bow, shoulders on the floor, ass in the air, her thighs devoted to the sole purpose of crushing his head flat as one of the matte drawings they sold in the store just outside the office where Jake was now fearing for his life. Her thighs exploded madly, bulging thickly and rippling around the screaming skull firmly lodged between them. She had his head so high and so tight, her knees touched on the far side of the scissored package, calves wrapped as tightly together as if there were nothing scissored in the thighs above them.
“STOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!” Jake screamed, his little hands ineffective against the tree-trunk thighs compressing his skull. “You win, STOP PLEASE!!!”
She eased up only enough to peel one thigh from his sweaty red ear, leaning in to growl at him.
“Oh, I know I won, Jake, I always win with my scissors,” she snapped. “Now, about your percentage….”
“…50…50 percent…fine…,” he panted, eyes watery with tears, his face a purplish mass of bruised, squeezed flesh.
“No, no it isn’t fine, Jake, you’re right, it’s just not fair,” she sighed, laying back after lifting his chin to rest on her pubic area, leaving his stretched-out neck full victim of her pulsating thighs that laced like fleshy bands around it. “I’m thinking more like 80-20, like you said…in MY FUCKING FAVOR!!!!”
Jake’s eyes popped open wide, at first in anger, then in agony as Lucy tensed her thighs just slightly enough to compress the sides of Jake’s neck and severely crimp the flow of blood to his already scissor addled brain. His eyes stared blankly at her, dead eyes, whites showing and little else.
“You’re gonna pass out cold, Jake, this scissors will knock you out instantly if I keep squeezing just a little bit harder,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know you can hear me, so I want you to nod if you agree to my percentage. Oh, wait, my headscissors is too tight, you can’t nod. OK, raise your little faggy finger in the air if you agree to 80 percent me, 20 percent you. Oh, and I don’t have to come into work ever. Again. Got it? Or do you want 100 percent!”
She squeezed a bit harder and Jake felt himself slipping away. He tried to speak, but Lucy’s crushing thighs had pushed his jaws too closely together, and whatever pitiful; words did manage to escape where sluggish and drawling, comic slow-motion speak courtesy of Lucy’s man-eating scissors. He raised his finger weakly and let it flop back to her thigh with a meaty plop.
“Excellent,” she sighed, putting on a stronger squeeze and knocking him out, only briefly, peeling her thighs off his face and head to stand up as he snorted to consciousness at her feet.
She pulled her little skirt down, straightened out her hair and tank top and opened the door to the office to peer into the shop. A lady was there, holding up a lattice-work picture frame.
“How much is this?” she asked.
Lucy turned to look at Jake struggling to his feet.
“You have a customer, partner,” she laughed, holding the door open for him to walk under her muscular arm into the shop. “Better get to work and earn your 20 percent or you’ll get my 100 again!”
Jake never complained again. He just worked harder.
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  #2  
Old 07-Jul-16, 15:01
anuac anuac is offline
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Default Re: One-hundred percent scissors

a vey good story!i love the grammar and language ,looking forward for ur return to this forum
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  #3  
Old 07-Jul-16, 15:02
anuac anuac is offline
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Default Re: One-hundred percent scissors

pls try to do father vs daughter with bearhugs as welll pls
my suggestion it will surely work out
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female domination, headscissors, mixed wrestling, scissors

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