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Old 22-Aug-15, 10:18
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Default Marie vs. Her Husband

The previous story was written from the man's point of view. Now, for the woman's, in the sequel...

***

"This is the new me," I thought, as I looked in the mirror, flexing, "and I like it."

It had been 4 months after I first met my personal trainer and got inspired to take up the gym membership. No, more than a membership - a way of life. Within those 4 months, I went from being a slightly chubby young wife with a circle of nice but superficial shopping friends, to the nicely-muscled me I was looking at in the mirror, with several swole-mates, male and female alike. I went from being a casual consumer of all the sugary junk food all around us, to someone who knew much more about how to take care of her own body. Garbage in, garbage out!

And it would have been so, so nice if my husband Mitch had been supportive of my transformation... but looking back, it was never going to be possible, knowing him as I did. Even back in college, when we had first started dating, he'd always been a typical guy, not quite a frat boy but close enough as to make no real difference. Always expressing those common misogynistic comments and opinions that I'd become inured to, over long years of exposure.

But the scales fell from my eyes, when I wandered into the place that has now become my second home: the Solid Steel gym. It was the logo that first attracted me, I recall: on either side of a dumbbell, silhouettes of a flexed arm and torso, the left one belonging to a man, and the right one... a woman.

I remember being somehow captivated by that logo. The woman's arm and what was shown of the upper torso were certainly smaller than the man's, but looked equally developed in terms of muscularity. What that logo told me, subconsciously perhaps, could be encapsulated in one word: equality. With the barbells and weights, men and women were equal. It was every person against his own limits, growing stronger at his or her own pace.

And the image of muscle on a woman... I'd seen pictures of it before, of course, all around us, but the thing about Mitch is that every time some celebrity turns up her muscle tone, he and his buddies make some disparaging comment about how mannish she'd become. Somehow, though, I guess I never internalized this idea, because when I walked into Solid Steel and looked around at all the women there, all athletes, all fit and strong... I knew I wanted to be like them. To possess muscle and strength and confidence.

Then a couple of months ago Mitch pulled a shitstorm of a tantrum, and drew a ridiculous line that I simply had to cross, or try to: no more gymming, no more strength training.

It hurt, badly, to hear him disparage the results my weeks of hard work. It was very hard to bear, to have my own husband find my body unsexy, undesirable. And if not for the affirmation I'd already received from so many others, including my swole sisters, the guys at the gym and my trainer Katie herself, my self-esteem might have been crushed, right there.

But Katie and the rest hadn't just toughened my muscles up - they'd buffed up my willpower as well. I was able to understand Mitch as an insecure chauvinist and an insensitive jerk. He wanted to talk about "real men"? I had met real men. I met men who could squat and deadlift and bench hundreds of pounds, who looked like Greek gods, and yet they behaved humbly and were nice and polite. Even when provoked, they usually remained calm a whole lot better than Mitch could manage. I cringe at the memories of Mitch kicking up fusses in restaurants, making serving staff feel bad, all because he felt entitled to good service. The men I met in Solid Steel were far manlier than he ever was.

So if they complimented me and said I looked good, and even sexy, I was going to take their words to heart. Mitch's insults just seemed petulant and petty, not to mention puerile. It was along the lines of "girls have cooties", seriously speaking.

But then I bit off more than I could chew... I overestimated my progress and underestimated Mitch's raw brute strength. I'd seen Katie slam down arms twice as big as hers, sometimes after long hard struggles, but I'd seen her do it. I thought I could make a point to Mitch, and win some independence for myself.

I ended up humiliated, and on my knees, giving Mitch what he wanted: a blowjob.

However, the very next day, Katie Tay saved the day. And in spectacular and memorable fashion, too... I shall never forget how strong, powerful and beautiful she looked that night, stripped to her waist, pressing Mitch's hand down not once, but twice, and even after he was clearly and flagrantly cheating for his second try.

So there I was, in front of the mirror, in the buff, flexing and smiling at what I saw. This was strong, this was sexy. And I remembered what Katie said in response to someone who said "strong is the new sexy". She had responded:

"Strong is always sexy!"

And then, Mitch came walking into the room, took one look at me, and...
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Old 22-Aug-15, 15:25
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

HERE WE GO!

Hope that Marie teaches her chauvinistic husband a hard humiliating lesson!
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Old 25-Aug-15, 09:10
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

... and made a face.

For the past couple of months he'd been sullen every time he caught sight of any sign of muscle on me. When I raised my arms to do my hair, for example, making my biceps pop - he'd grimace. When I laid out a plate in front of him, for example, stretching out my arm such that the muscle was showing - he'd grimace. And when I reclined and put my feet up, flexing my calves in the process - he'd grimace.

I felt like telling him he ought to put on a purple suit, he was grimacing so much.

Needless to say, we hadn't had sex ever since Katie won back my gym life for me. We did try, once, but it was half-hearted, and after some perfunctory groping and fondling, he was the one who turned away and mumbled something about having a headache or something. It's not as if I didn't try to make it up to him. But there was something about the way he squeezed and prodded me, almost experimentally, and it didn't seem that he liked what he was feeling, the hardness of my flesh underneath the softness.

And frankly, I was sick and tired of it. I wanted to stay positive, to focus on my own personal fitness goals, to look hotter and hotter... maybe like Katie some day... and he was being a debbie downer, a negative nancy...

No, no. Those would be his words. Just look at those names. Girl names! Why don't we say, like, "danny downer" or "negative nate" or something? Gosh, I hadn't even realized how deep and pervasive patriarchal culture went!

So when he walked in on me admiring my progress and grimaced yet again, my patience snapped. I rounded on him, hands on hips.

"What's with the face, Mitch? What the hell's your problem?"

He froze for a while, then his brow furrowed with anger.

"You need to ask me what the problem is?" He shook his head and laughed humorlessly. "Girl, why don't you get your head out of your ass. You're a laughingstock! And you have no idea what it's like for me, out there?"

"Laughingstock? Out there? What the hell are you on about?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? The guys, our friends, they're all mocking your man muscles! You're starting to look as shapely as a brick! And I gotta be out there, sticking up for you... you don't even appreciate it! You're just focused on ruining your image, and mine along with it!"

I happened to know everything he said wasn't true. A couple of his drinking buddies had complimented me on my physique, and they had actually tried flirting with me via text. I kept the knowledge from him because I didn't want to kick up a fuss and cause trouble. Besides, I was secretly flattered.

And my girl friends were asking me fitness and nutrition questions, and a few even asked for Katie's contact.

To top it all off, I know for sure that the brick comment was his and his alone. I'd caught sight of a Yahoo! IM conversation he was having with a friend of his (not one of those who hit on me), and sure, it was wrong of me to peek, but he'd left the computer on and the window open.

"man, it sux... majorly... sux balls. Marie looks like a brick now, she's got about as much shape"

"hey man... not cool... she still your wife... sides, it ain't even true, she got even more fine curves than before... dat ass, bro"

"what?? u out of your mind dave... u got no idea what it's like, it's like sleeping next to a dude"

"like it's the first time for you LOLLLL remember jersey '12 we will never forget hahahahahaha"

"fuck you man"

So that was what allowed me to stand proud, naked in front of him, immune to his weak attempts to damage my self-esteem. The problem was his, all his. All my gym buddies... our circle of friends... random strangers who appreciated health and fitness and gave me compliments on the street... they all didn't think the same way he did. He was deeply insecure.

I turned my back to him deliberately, and continued striking up poses in the full-length mirror. He could see my back and shoulder development, and my hamstrings - I was especially proud of my hamstrings. Katie had complimented me on my good genetics, saying I had the potential for really curvy hamstring bulges. Many bodybuilders would love to have my legs, she'd said. I was so happy I wished I could do ten extra sets of deadlifts that day.

He approached. In the mirror, he looked deeply unhappy.

"You're getting vain, and narcissistic," he said. "Posing and preening like that. What kind of woman do you think you are?"

"A strong one," I replied, doing a side chest. "A beautiful, confident one. A woman like Katie."

"Katie!" That got an immediate reaction from him. "That Asian dyke!" He looked about ready to explode. "I thought I said not to mention her again!"

"You're just sore because she proved to you she's way stronger than you are," I smirked. "Besides..." I turned to the side and flexed my triceps. Could be more definition there, I thought. "You actually found her sexy. I'm your wife. Think I don't know when you get a hard-on?"

"Oh that is fucking ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "There is just no... NO... fucking way you butches turn me on!"

"Oh, so I'm a butch now, am I?"

"You sure look like one!"

"You know what?" I turned to him again, and this time tensed my muscles all over deliberately as I stood with hands on hips. "I think you're full of shit. I've never heard anyone complain as long or as loud as you do about muscles on women. It's like what they say about all those anti-gay conservatives. Almost all the most prominent anti-gay politicians and pastors and whatnot, they all turned out to be closet gay in the end. I think the same thing's going on with you. You're actually super turned on by my new look, and by your sexy encounter with Katie, and you're just not enough of a man to admit it!"

There was silence. I'd never seen that look on Mitch's face before. The phrase "deer in the headlights" came to mind, but finding itself insufficient, bounded off like a deer. He just looked... shellshocked.

After some long moments he came out of it, slowly. He was shaking his head. "No... no! Fuck, no. You're way off base. You have no idea what... what you're talking about. Shut up. Shut up!"

"I'm not saying anything now."

"Just... shut... up... Marie!

"No, I won't!" I yelled. "This has gone on long enough! I am doing something more positive with my life and my body than I've ever done. I am happy doing it. And a real man, who knew how to be a husband, would be happy for me, and accept it. You've been sulking around like a sullen little child! And I really am convinced, you're in denial! So if you want to save this marriage, just learn to be honest with yourself, and just accept that you can be with a woman who's stronger than you!"

The words just came out at the end in a rush. I realized then that I had committed to what I just said - to putting my muscle where my mouth was, in other words.

"You're not... you're not stronger than me!" He laughed, spreading his arms and gesturing. "Even with that... that man bod of yours, you're never going to be stronger than me! There is just no fucking way."

"Is that what you think? Fine, Mitch. You know what? You need a lesson in humility. And I'm going to give you one. You're going to stop worrying, and learn to love a strong woman."

"What, like I didn't prove my point the last time?" he snapped. "You gonna call in the cavalry again just like you did? This time, if you do, I'm gonna get a guy I know to come in and put that bitch Katie in her fucking place. Two can play at that game."

"Nope, we're not going there. This is between you and me, Mitch," I said, my voice becoming quieter. "This is me showing you the kind of woman I'm becoming, the kind of woman I want to be. And I can prove to you that I can do it. I can beat you physically."

I raised my right arm and flexed it. "Come on, Mitch. Let's see who wins now. Unless you're too scared to find out."

He stared at my arm and my bare chest, breathing heavily. "If I beat you, then this stops. End of story. No bringing in that steroid cow Katie. You stop your gymming and your strong woman nonsense, and you go back to being the Marie I want."

"And if I win, you stop doing your stupid faces when you see my muscles. You learn to appreciate my way of being sexy and beautiful."

"Fine, whatever."

So once again, with me naked and him bare-chested, we faced each other across the table and slowly locked arms. We agreed to put our left hands behind our back, and to use no body weight. I insisted on him no cheating, ignoring his excuses about the second match he had with Katie, and he grudgingly gave his assent.

"Let's count off together, ok? On 3."

"Fine."

"1... 2..."

Last edited by jtktl8387; 25-Aug-15 at 15:22.
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Old 25-Aug-15, 16:20
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

On 3, he pulled hard, and I was ready for him... but still, I couldn't match his sheer arm power, and he gained a significant advantage.

We struggled for some more moments, eyes fixed on our clasped hands. His face was twisted into a fierce scowl, with clenched teeth bared and crinkled eyes. But then, so was mine. We were both giving it our all, holding nothing back, with everything that was at stake.

And I held him off! He couldn't pull me down past the halfway mark. That in itself was an achievement... but it wouldn't be enough, not for me.

Still, it was enough to get him frustrated and disbelieving. I could tell from the look in his eyes as he glanced up at me. His eyes also flicked quickly to my bulging biceps and shoulders, but didn't stay long there.

I took a deep breath, sucking it in through my teeth, and began to pull with as much force as I could muster. The resistance was considerable - Mitch wasn't a weak man, not by any measure. However, I had been training with Katie with special focus on my arms recently, because I'd become a bit concerned about them after losing to Mitch the last time. One of the things she'd put me on was preacher curls, done very slowly, taxing my muscle endurance to the limit. She'd also helped me with assisted pull-ups, again emphasizing the isometric component of the movement, meaning I pulled myself up at normal speed but let myself down very, very slowly, straining my muscles every inch of the way.

Now it was paying off. The strain was great, but manageable. I couldn't match his male muscles power for power, but I could absorb his initial surge, and then just hunker down and outmuscle him. I still had to outlast him, though. He was already breathing heavily, but still going strong. And he was twisting his body slightly, just a little bit, not enough for me to call him out on cheating, but he was putting more of his shoulder into it. My hand began to go down slightly.

I just tried to focus and flex my arm as hard as I could to resist his force. In my mind I could hear Katie exhorting me as I did the preacher curls, pouring encouragement into my ear. I knew she would be cheering me on if she were there beside me, watching our contest.

Bit by bit, I began to pull him up. He kept grunting and groaning, with growing frustration, but my superior conditioning was paying off. I was feeling the burn in my biceps, but slowly I was able to active more of my shoulders. When I got him past the neutral point I would be able to use my pectorals as well to power him down.

It was a hard slog. But in the end, my strength and willpower were superior to his. He didn't go down easily, to his credit. But at last, after what must have been more than 2 minutes of straight arm wrestling, his strength gave out. I pressed his hand into the table almost gently.

Then we both leaned back while catching our breaths. I was euphoric. I had won! I had beaten my husband at arm wrestling. With no tricks or techniques. Just muscle, and will. I was starting to feel really ecstatic.

Then he roared. No other word for it. "NO!"

I cocked my arm and flexed it, giving him a wink. "Good match, honey, but looks like my muscle is here to stay. Get used to it!"

Mitch then proceeded to do his best impression of Steve Carell from the Office.

"NO GOD PLEASE NO! NO! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

His anguish was palpable. He stood up and began pacing around. "You... you..."

"I what? Come on, Mitch! What do you want to say? Did I cheat? Did I use any trick? Any 'performance enhancing drugs'? Huh? What excuse do you have this time? I just outmuscled you fair and square, honey."

He stopped and glared at me. "No... no! Just... arm wrestling doesn't prove anything! It's some kind of freak result. I want a rematch!"

A rematch would actually have worked in my favor, because I recovered more quickly than him. He'd go down even faster the second time around. But I had an even better idea in mind.

I knew he could be turned on by my strength and fitness. I mean, which real red-blooded male wouldn't? If I could just inveigle him into a match, I could show him the truth about himself...

"You know what, Mitch?" I put on my best patronizing smile. "You're right. I just beat you at arm wrestling, with nothing but my superior muscle, but it doesn't prove all that much. How about this, dear. Let's have a wrestling match. We can clear this room, or do it on the bed. Then I can show you just how strong a woman can be. Feeling up to the challenge? Or were you exhausted by that match?"

"Me? Wrestle you?" He had a comical look on his face. "Baby... I outweigh you by more than 20 pounds. I don't want to squash you."

"Oh, save it," I snapped, walking up to him and jabbing my finger into his chest. "You're just afraid of losing to me yet again. You say arm wrestling doesn't mean much, well, c'mon then, step up! Let's wrestle and see who's stronger!"

He backed away - he, a big man outweighing me by more than 20 pounds, backed away. He looked nervous, his eyes flickering side to side. But there was no escape for his precious male ego. His naked, strong wife was challenging him to a wrestling match in their own home. He knew he had to accept.

And I knew that he knew there was a real chance he could lose, after how I'd just beaten him.

Oh, my excitement as we moved the furniture aside and got ready to wrestle, on our own carpet...
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Old 27-Aug-15, 15:56
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

He stripped his shorts off for the match, because I insisted, since I was naked myself. We're husband and wife, after all, it's not as if we're shy around each other in our own home. Still... it was a special sort of thrill to me, to face off across from him in our own living room. It was the first time ever. But then, it was the first time I was really standing up to him and asserting what I believed - not counting what I did two months before.

We stood in silence for a while, looking at each other. I was appraising our physiques, and what I saw was that I was fit, toned, strong. He, on the other hand, was flabby and out of shape. I'd always thought he had nice sturdy arms and a broad manly chest, but that was just his natural size. He had a bit of a belly, and his pectoral definition... let's just say, it left something to be desired. And his hairy legs showed next to no real leg work in the gym. They were just legs. I'd admired the tight glutes and bulging hamstrings of some of the guys at Solid Steel more times than I could count. Mitch had nothing on them.

Still... he was my husband, we were just working a difficulty out. I smiled at him, trying to break the tension. "This is actually pretty erotic, isn't it," I said.

He just scoffed. "What I find erotic is putting you in your place after we play around for a few minutes, and you going back to being a real feminine woman."

That did it. I decided there and then, I wouldn't spare him anything. I would dish out everything I could. This relationship dynamic had to change... or I would remove myself from it.

We agreed verbally on the rules. We'd mostly play it clean, and try to grapple without really causing hurt in ways like clawing or hair-pulling, nothing like that. The match would end in a voiced submission or a tapout. One fall to decide it all. One chance for me to prove I was strong enough to take him on, and beat him.

We dropped into half crouches, and started to circle one another cautiously. We'd never wrestled each other before, and I don't think he'd ever done it with anyone. I had a bit of an unfair advantage there - I'd actually been wrestling with Katie for quite a few sessions, at my own request. She'd taught me a lot.

One of those sessions got quite... hot and heavy. That wasn't something Mitch needed to know.

He suddenly barreled forward, trying to rush me with his superior mass and momentum. In that split second I decided I couldn't dodge him quickly enough, and if I tried I'd be off-balance. Almost instinctively I braced myself to receive his charge.

He smacked into me and I staggered back several steps, almost to the other end of the carpet. But I didn't fall over, and I think he was surprised, because he paused for a while while clutching me, as if he didn't know what to do next. I grabbed his upper hands, he grabbed mine, and we began a clumsy tussle, pushing and grunting.

It was actually starting to get me wet, that animalistic action, but I was focused on trying to lock up his arms with my own. No easy task, considering how big they were. I'd won the arm wrestling match more with endurance than with sheer power, so I wasn't going to be complacent.

Several times he almost toppled me, but I stood firm with leg strength and lower body stability, the result of countless squats and deadlifts and lunges. He nearly pulled my arms down and wrapped me in a bearhug, but I had just enough strength to resist and keep him from enclosing me in that move. Then he tried to use his legs to trip me, but ended up stumbling and nearly falling himself, because when his leg hooked mine on the outside, my muscular leg held firm, but his buckled and slipped. I couldn't capitalize on that though.

Still, it was clear after several intense minutes, that he couldn't bring me down with sheer force alone. And as we both paused for breath, grabbing onto each other's forearms, we happened to look into each other's eyes, and I could see the awareness there. He knew I was matching him muscle for muscle.

Then there was a flurry of limbs as he tried some sudden moves, which I countered, and then we broke apart, breathing heavily, the sweat starting to pop out on our skin. He was breathing more heavily than I was from the exertion. I started to smile, and feel more confident.

On that surge of confidence, I took a step forward and raised my right hand, opening it, mutely inviting him to a classic fingerlock test of strength. His mouth opened a little, as if he couldn't believe I was actually challenging him in this way, but then he quickly, almost gladly, accepted my challenge and grabbed hold of my hand with his left, clumsily lacing his fingers with mine.

Immediately he started pushing, so it was a one-handed test of strength. I think he wanted to overwhelm me completely within the first few seconds, get control of my arm, and then go on from there. But I resisted successfully, with the arm that had just defeated him. He bared his teeth in frustration as he realized that even though my right arm trembled, it held steady.

Slowly I adjusted my posture, raising my left hand up and opening it too. After some moments of hesitation, he slapped his palm against mine. We barely laced fingers properly as he immediately did his utmost to overcome me with pure brute strength. Our footing shifted a little with the swaying of our bodies, but soon we settled into a straight contest of muscle and will.

I desperately wanted to win this, to come out on top, even in just a simple test of strength like this. It would prove my point. Actually, if Mitch had been more of a real man, he'd have conceded that the mere fact I was holding up against him for this long proved my point, to say nothing of how I beat him at arm wrestling. But a stubborn pig like him just had to be shown all the way, every step of the way, or he'd insist nothing had been shown at all. It was infuriating.

And slowly, as his face turned red and his shoulders began to shake, I was doing it. I was getting pretty strained myself, especially my right arm. But I was going strong, using my core, channeling the power through my legs into the ground like I did for squats. The both of us were now sweating little rivers. His arms started to tremble, and buckle. I forced them apart, and stepped forward, pushing forward and down as hard as I could. His torso bent backwards, and his head began to sink below my eye level. I was winning.

Then he suddenly thrust his right foot forward with a grunt, aiming at my left ankle. It struck, and I wasn't ready for it. My foot slipped and I stumbled, feeling a small twinge in my tendons. For a moment I was afraid it was a sprain, but fortunately it wasn't.

Less fortunately, he had broken the test of strength that I was winning, and now he had gotten me in a crude headlock. My cheeks were pressed against the sweaty skin of his sides. He was gasping and huffing as if he'd just ran a marathon, but now he had the advantage.

"What's the matter, huh?" he panted, as I grunted breathlessly and tried to free myself from the headlock that he was applying with his left arm. He tried to use his hips to toss me, but he didn't have the skill, and I could stay upright, though he did swing me around in half a circle. "Huh? Ready to give? Still wanna wrestle?"

I didn't bother replying to his crude taunting. I was busy slipping my left hand underneath my chin to grab his wrist, as Katie had taught me when she was training me to wrestle. I did one of the methods to escape a headlock that she'd taught me - I pressed the heel of my right palm firmly against his side jaw and gave a sudden push. At the same time, while he reeled with the sudden force, I jerked down on his left arm to straighten it out.

It worked perfectly. In an instant, I was out of the headlock - and I knew just what I wanted to do next as my revenge...
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Old 30-Aug-15, 10:30
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

I slipped my arms deftly under his - he was clumsy and slow, and couldn't stop me from locking in a full-nelson.

Immediately he gave a choked cry, as my clasped fingers forced his head down, applying pressure on his neck. His arms flailed comically as I kept them locked with mine.

But he was still a good bit taller, and as he had noted earlier, much heavier. We began to stagger around, and I was feeling the strain of trying to subdue his larger frame. Several times he tried to use short sharp jerks of his arms to break my hold, and each time my fingers loosened and came apart just a little more. I flexed my arms harder to maintain the hold, but it was getting more difficult by the second. My muscles were aching. I didn't want to lose this advantage I had won - if he broke free he could turn the tables on me.

Finally, though, he went down slowly onto his knees, wheezing and panting. I smiled to myself with tired satisfaction as I bent down over his back, still applying the hold, but finding it much easier. Yet again, I had been able to match his strength, and then my superior conditioning let me prevail.

"Ready to give, honey?" I whispered in his ear, a little breathlessly. "Ready to admit I'm stronger than you?"

In reply, he grunted with palpable frustration and thrashed about some more, swaying from side to side. He still had some fight in him, and I was more than ready to squeeze it out. I let myself fall backward, using my weight to pull him down on top of me, and I snapped my thighs around his waist.

It felt so blubbery! I'd known he was a bit stocky, but I always used to think that there was at least some firm flesh under his belly fat. It always felt that way. But there and then, as I clamped my thighs around him and put him in a scissor hold for the first time, I realize he felt so squishy... so weak. Or was it that my squeezing power had grown, that my legs had grown so much stronger than before? I almost felt bad at the way he began groaning with pain and trying fruitlessly to free his arms so he could pry my legs apart. He didn't have the skill or knowledge at all to do as Katie had shown me, in case I ever needed to escape from a leg scissors from behind - to use his legs, get them in between my feet, and force them apart.

Soon his groans got weaker, and his struggling gradually ceased. He was just about out of it, but I had to make sure. I had to really get him to concede the point, or all of this was for nothing.

"Mitch, honey. Submit, or I'm really going to end up hurting you."

He said nothing, just continued huffing and puffing, sounding more and more exhausted as he lay trapped in my full nelson body scissors.

"Come on, Mitch!" I grew frustrated. "I've beaten you! Admit it! Submit!"

He still said nothing. Just kicked his legs futilely a few times. I was already applying as much pressure as I dared, without pressing hard enough to cause an actual neck injury which would be a nuisance for weeks. I wasn't out to hurt him. I just wanted him to admit, with enough training and skill and willpower, a woman can be the physical match of any man... or even his superior.

"Come on," I urged him again, as another minute passed. "You can't break out. I don't want to hurt you for real. Just submit."

He made a sound that was like a wounded buffalo, and for a few moments he tried again to escape. He must have been affronted that I, his meek docile little Marie, could have the temerity to suggest I was capable of hurting him!

Well, sorry to him, but... I'm no longer meek, or docile, or submissive, or fragile, or delicate, or any of the things he wanted me to be. I am stronger than him, and right there I was proving it.

I began whispering in his ear. Told him that he was outmatched in every way. Reminded him how we'd just gone muscle for muscle at arm wrestling and I'd actually beaten him. Mocked him for trying to trip me up during our test of strength and almost causing me to sprain my ankle, but still failing to get the upper hand. Taunted him about being bigger and heavier, but still getting subdued by me in this wrestling hold and being unable to extricate himself at all. Told him he was at my mercy...

"And you like it, Mitch," I breathed. "Admit it. You like me like this. You've loved strong, muscular women all along. You just didn't want to admit it to yourself, because you were insecure about your own manhood. But Katie turned you on when she outmuscled you, and now I'm turning you on while I'm outmuscling you."

He made some inchoate noises of denial.

"Don't believe me? I'll prove it to you, Mitch. I'll do it in a way you can't ever deny, ever. Your body knows what you refuse to admit. Let me show you, honey."

And I released the hold. He flopped onto his back, too exhausted to move. I quickly moved up on top of him, facing his feet, and clamped his head gently but firmly in between my thighs. His dick, still flaccid, but leaking a tell-tale drop of pre-cum from the tip, lay right in front of my face.

I took it in my hands and slowly rubbed it to life...
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Old 30-Aug-15, 10:44
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mixfightor mixfightor is offline
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

Wow, in that position, it would be hard for any man not to like it. Even one as misogynistic and chauvenistic as Mitch. Lucky bastard.

Thanks for the story, mate. It's awesome.
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Old 31-Aug-15, 01:13
kendawg kendawg is offline
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

Bravo great story well told thank you
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Old 31-Aug-15, 06:34
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

Oh... yeah, it kinda does read like I'm ending it, doesn't it...

What do you guys think? Should this be the conclusion?
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Old 31-Aug-15, 08:36
MarkHold MarkHold is offline
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Default Re: Marie vs. Her Husband

It depends on if you have any ideas to develop the story?
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