Zoe's promise

[Jobckn]

ZOE'S PROMISE

NOTE: This is my first story posted on this sub, I would love some constructive feedback. I loved writing it, so expect more - some true, some just like this one. This story is fictional, though the characters, places and key elements are true. While this story is long, it's mostly descriptive. I have tried to make everything as realistic as mixed wrestling can get so that we can envision ourselves in the writer's shoe; I find there is too much far fetched fiction on this forum. ENJOY

Also, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year
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PART 1: "Fortress of thigh"

Tuesday night was the same as it had been for years. I would lay on my bed, fantasizing about the things in life I deemed impossible. Nothing ever happened on a Tuesday, especially at night-time. Little did I know, however, that this Tuesday night was everything I had come to fantasise about. This night was, in many ways, life changing.

I laid on my bed doing nothing in particular, speaking to my favourite person in the world over Instagram. My favourite person being none other than Zoe. I loved talking to her, she was perhaps the one person I could have a conversation over text where we were both actively invested in the chat. As nice as it was talking to her, I was trying to spice up the conversation, or rather steer it towards my ultimate fantasy of being headscissored or having my face sat on. I wouldn’t usually do this, but out of being fed up with nothing ever happening in my life I gave it a go. I’ve heard of stories and read posts on this forum where people wrestled a woman who naturally scissored them in a wrestling scenario. They said it was a common move that they do. This was too good to be true in my eyes. Sure, they might use their legs as a way to immobilise men, but headscissors were far to sexual for natural wrestling. However, I’ll give it a go: I’d try to arrange a wrestling date with her, what with my new non-platonic aims and such. There’s no harm in trying.

I brought up the topic of how strong each of us were, I was hoping to have this evolve into me teasing her about how weak she was, her challenging me, and going from there. To my absolute surprise, after me asking how strong she thought she was, she responded:

“I could crush someone’s head with my legs but I’m an ant with my arms. I can wriggle and move my little toe does that count?”

My jaw dropped. The phrase itself, “crush someone’s head with my legs” was hot in itself, but the fact that she said it made me melt. She mentioned it only in passing as 1/3 of a text message. I didn’t know how to reply, I stared at the message, the window into a totally fantastical situation slowly closing. This was a one-on-one chat where neither of us were distracted - if I took too long to reply I would look creepy. I needed to say something. Quick.
“Yes wriggling your toes count” I eventually responded. I had disappointed myself, but there was still hope.
“Then I’m basically the hulk” she replied.
I took a moment to gather myself.
“I swear women have naturally stronger legs anyways.”
“idk, mine are just strong”.
“Not strong enough to crush my head tho” I had no idea if this sentence would work or not – I was fishing. I was using her words of ‘crushing’ as to be clever and have her realise this was all her idea.
“Wrong”
“Prove it”
“You sure you want me to?”
“I doubt you could even near me with your ant arms anyways”
“I’m weak but I’m still stronger than you”
“You’re gonna need a different plan than that”
“I’ll get you when you least expect it”
“is that a threat?”
“it’ a promise ”

I was beyond aroused. I hadn’t just talked her into wrestling, I talked her into getting me in a headscissor. However, part of me knew it’ll likely never happen, just like all the fruitless times that she promised we’d hang out but never got round to organising anything. Zoe swept this under the rug like she had always done. Also, because she said she’ll get me when I least expect it, we hadn’t organised a date. She’ll likely forget by morning.

MORNING

The social room was always silent at this time in the university, but never this silent – it was refreshing. The atmosphere was dreamlike, and I was sure I'd remember the feeling of sitting next to Zoe in this refreshing atmosphere for weeks. It felt pre-made, like someone had put everything in place for some reason. It all felt fake. Light streamed through the windows like spotlights in a stage play, lighting the stage for the drama that was about to occur. We were sat upstairs on a large platform made of wood with blue carpeted floors, the desks were all made up from the same piece of long, thin wood. There were dividers between each section, allowing for some privacy between neighbours. The floor sounded hollow and weak to walk on, it sounded even weaker when wrestled on. I was sat next to Zoe, my work shielded from her. She was in her short, flowing grey plaid skirt, her tights wrapped erotically around her perfect legs. I could never stop looking at those legs, they were truly stellar. They had such shape to them, being the perfect blend between fat and muscle. I followed the lines in the fabric with my eyes.

Zoe was beautiful. She had short dark hair cut in a fringe and big dark eyes, a nose ring and always wore eyeliner that ended with a sharp straight edge. She came across to some people as a pixie, others as punk or emo, but to me she was stylish. No other woman matched her subtle sexuality. The looks she'd give, the tone in her voice. She drove me mad. She weighed 60 kilos, her breasts were 36C (at a guess) and always plumply filled out her shirt. She was five foot four, five inches shorter than me, and eighteen years old, the same age as me. She had bad posture sitting down, often sitting in poses that would straight up show off her underwear if she were in a skirt. When she stood, however, she had quite the figure. I on the other hand, could be considered eccentric looking. My neck length brown hair matched my almond shaped brown eyes. My nose is aquiline and pointed, yet it defined my face as did my heart shaped head and triangular, asymmetrical chin. I am also 60kg and stand five foot nine, my skinny shoulders were quite broad making me look more masculine than I actually am.

Me and her had a history which, to me, made our friendship quite strange. In short, me and her were briefly in a relationship as young teenagers. She lost interest in me and moved on while I still loved her, but we somehow ended up in university together. We came full circle, and I wasn’t gonna let her slip away again. There was sparks between us, I was determined for her to love me too one day.

I was doing my work, phone on the desk, music playing through my wireless earphones. From where I was sitting (at the end of the conjoined row of desks), a table run perpendicular to the desk on which my bag rested on, behind it a solid wall. Zoe was working too. Or so I thought. She spoke to me, but I had my headphones in and didn’t hear her. Seeing this as a perfect opportunity, she moved in. As I was unable to hear her, she simply walked up behind me, snatched my phone from the desk, then darted away. I noticed this and immediately retaliated as I followed the phone with my hand, my other fondled my ear for the pause button on the headphones. She ignored this. She held the phone in her small hands smiling at me as she sat on the table next to me.

“What are you doing?”
She didn’t respond
Zoe knew I wouldn't go for it if it was too far out of reach, so she teased me with it, like a dog and a chew toy. I went for it with both hands, but she pulled it away just in time. I grabbed her wrists so she couldn't pull it away further, but I lost grip after she rotated her arm out of my grip. She then, excited I grabbed her, uncrossed her legs, and put my phone between her thighs and crossed them again. I was aroused by this. Lucky bastard. This made me think about what she said last night, the conversation played in my head like film. When she did this my first thought was that she was actually doing what we discussed yesterday. Surely not…


"Now what?” Her tone lulling me into the fight.
She was serious with this.
She had a certain look in her eye that challenged me, we held each other’s glance. Was she doing what I thought she was doing? If so, I could pretend to be oblivious. I knew she had an ace up her sleeve with her legs, not that I was going to do anything about it. My intellectual plan to lose was in motion.

I could see no evidence of my phone apart from how it altered the way her thigh sat slightly. I couldn't just grab for it, that'd seem wrong. However, she was the one who started this, if things got out of hand, she was the one to blame.

"Hmmm," I said, still in her eyes.
I turned my chair around to see her properly. The top of my head was on the same level as the bottom of her boobs, we both noticed this. I looked at her while I punched her lightly in the side of her leg, just enough so she'd do it back. I tried to focus on her legs as to increase my chance of getting in the scissor. Her leg felt firm, yet I felt it giggle on impact, like a balloon full of oobleck. There was a pause.

“What was that for?”
“Give it back”
“Make me”

I punched her in the leg again. She punched me back harder in the arm. And so, the fight began.

I punched her back harder, this time on the underside of her leg that was crossed away from me. This time if felt like hitting bread dough. She punched me in the same spot, my ache grew worse. We became increasingly giddy with each blow, if anyone were to see us, we’d look like a pair of idiots hitting each other back and forth. We accelerated in pace, going back and forth, each strike quicker than the last. Punch, punch punch, punch. I caught her wrist as her arm came at me. I held on to her arm tightly as she twisted her arm out of this just like last time. I could smell Zoe's perfume and breath now, it had me intoxicated.

I, wanting to move the fight along, grabbed her crossed left leg by the foot with my right hand. Again, to remind her of her own legs. She squealed and tried to keep her legs together around the phone, so she knotted her crossed leg around the other like a grapevine. I took her shoe off with both hands to avenge her stealing my phone while Zoe held onto the table trying to get her legs away, bucking me away from her. She remained unaffected by the loss of her shoe knowing that she still had the advantage with or without it, so I opted for plan A again. I grabbed her leg and tried to uncross it. Zoe uncrossed her legs in the midst of my effort and began kicking at me like a coupling rod of a steam train, my phone bouncing off my foot as it was released from its fortress of thigh. I almost backed off completely, but I carried on fighting. I could see her white panties as her legs flew at me

I continued flutily wrestling against her heavy legs in an attempt to stop them from pushing my chair over or wrapping around my head. My heart pounded in my chest. This was it; I was about to get headscissored! I was seaming with excitement: I felt disgusting in a way. I had manipulated her into acting out my sexual fantasies with me. I hadn’t ever done something like this before, it felt wrong. I tried to escape, just to make clear to myself that this was her choice too. I tried to scoot my chair backwards, but something had caught it; I tried to stand up, but Zoe’s legs pushed me down. Never mind then, she was into it alright!

I could try and fold her legs back into her, but that was impossible. She pushed through my doomed defences, scooted up on the table, put her feet on my shoulders, grabbed my head, and pulled it into her. I swore as she did this, my final words as a free man. To me, as soon as I saw the drive in her eyes, I knew I was done for. It all happened so quickly. One second, I was grabbing for her ankle, the next – wrestling with snake like legs before being pulled into a face hug. It was all a series of sensations, flashing textures of fabric and skin and pulling and pushing forces. I would’ve liked to rewind time and experience it all again.

I, in shock and awe, bought up my arms to feel Zoe's legs. Firm and soft, muscle knotted and squishy. I was in between her legs, the legs I had spent so long adoring secretly, the legs I stared at every day, the legs that would keep me locked in this hold indefinitely. Only then did I realise how strong she actually was, or rather how strong legs are in general. She wasn’t squeezing yet, but it still felt tight against my windpipe. I was strapped into her roller coaster that was about to go full speed forward, her over-the-shoulder seatbelt legs stopping me from falling over the sides to freedom. I cried out to the staff to let me out, not that they heard. This was terrifying. This was perfect.

“I told you! When you least expect it” She looked at me with a face blended between smugness and arousal, a face you’d see on someone flirting with you rather than someone with their legs wrapped around your neck. It pleaded for a response from me, something just as coy. I brought my hands up to pry her knees to no success.
“Is this you ‘crushing my head’ then?”
“No…” Zoe looked at the peak of pleasure, she was about to do something amazing. She waited there in that tantalising moment, staring into each other’s eyes in a western standoff. Olympic racers waiting for the gunshot to sound: racers waiting for the green light.

“This is”

She stretched her legs fully and clamped her thighs down onto either side of my neck. I was more than just aroused, I was floating. When she squeezed, I involuntarily groaned like a balloon being deflated. The sheer shock of the squeeze took me aback, I forgot how to see or breath without snoring. Struggling immediately, I sat in my chair to keep myself from sinking any more below her quicksand grip. A rabbit caught in a bear trap. A box of china in an off-road race. A toddler in a formula one car without a seatbelt. The force of her legs deeply shocked me, even made me jump. I went to speak – “okay okay okay- I get it, I get it, fuck.” There was no need to go on anymore, even if it was only the third second in. I patted her leg in submission, but she didn’t let up. I did it again, and again, and again, frantically slapping at her thigh. She noticed, but she didn’t care.

“Come on, I’m barely squeezing”
I continued to tap
“Shouldn’t have punched my legs then, should you?” She teased. My pain simply wasn’t her problem.

I cupped her firm legs, ran my hand along the texture of her tights just as I had done with my eyes a few minutes ago, I felt the fabric cling to her legs like a membrane or an extra layer of skin ready to be shed. Fitting, as her legs constricted me like a snake. They felt like hard swells of water and flesh, emitting heat and perspiration. It disguised the muscle I felt against my neck, like unbreakable rope pulled to the point that it was impossible to move, or like a smooth stone wrapped in skin. I tented my trousers.

I looked up to see a sight burned forever into my head. Zoe’s sexy hips dominating my field of view like I had looked into the sun and couldn’t shake the void in the centre of my vison. Her thin sweater glued to her perfect breasts, her stomach slouched and squished into the skirt, her body fat flowing over the top like a volcano erupting. The main event, however, was her crotch. The crotch I would try to glimpse at only occasionally during the day now in full view mere centimetres from my mouth. The tights’ stitching meeting in the middle of it like it had been cut in half and sewn back together – she was as perfect as a doll. It floated in front of me, teasing me, begging for me to touch it. It looked full and naughty as if she were seductively flashing me for a brief moment. It oozed sexuality. Her body became expanded to a landscape, a landscape where everything is in reach. Her head in the distance like a cloud, her breasts and belly as the midground mountains, her thighs and hips being the shadowy foreground. She was picturesque, but not in the typical way. She was like an oil painting landscape. I met her Mona Lisa eyes; they were full and wet, and her mouth was unable to stop grinning.

“Come on, do something then. You’re not just gonna let me squeeze you like this are you?” She mocked. I must have been so busy being overwhelmed with sensation that escaping by myself had completely slipped my mind.

I grabbed her with the palm and tugged at her thighs in front of me, the skin stretched under my hands, but the muscle didn’t budge. I tried again but had no luck, I was wedged in. Her legs were parts of the planet that had formed around my head, or a tree that had suddenly grown around me, or the walls of a cave to the eager explorer who had managed to get himself stuck. Forever.

She released me momentarily. My dehydrated head reconnected to the extra-terrestrial rest of my body through a deep exhale, like I had been saved from being hung. This freedom was short lived, however, as all she wanted to do was pull me in closer and squeeze me tighter. Forgotten she had hold of my hair, I pulled away as she tugged me closer. In a blink I was back in her cage, her crotch closer to my face now, her legs harder. She had put me in a figure 4 lock now. I could smell her vanilla scented aroma blended with her unrefined breath and the musk from her crotch. I would see more of that section later.

“You’re such a mop.” She always called me a mop, making fun of my hair as she twirled it around in her hands. I secretly liked being insulted by her, I felt even weaker now than I did before. For a second there I forgot my pain.
“I might cut your hair while I’ve got you, make you look normal again.” I squirmed and disagreed as she said this for comedic effect. She didn’t have a pair of scissors to cut it with. Though now that I think about it, I suppose she did.

She adjusted herself to get comfortable. She laid down further onto her back, still looking me in the eye. Zoe’s body was slightly lower than my head, her legs angled somewhat upwards in front of her. I remained in my chair; hands glued to the sides of her thighs. She wasn’t squeezing again yet.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do this” I said.
“Why not?”
“I thought you wouldn’t remember, or only take it as a joke or something”
“You thought wrong”

She squeezed again: this time considerably harder than before.

I kicked and bucked, but her legs moored me down; she only swayed slightly as I frantically tried to escape. Her weight on me was overshadowed by the pressure that I felt. A python was crushing me. The muscle surrounded me – it completely coiled around my head, pinching, and strangling me. Her clench getting tighter and tighter and tighter, all as my futile attempts at escaping wore my energy down. Much like a python, she would not let me go, this was a matter of prey being killed by a predator. No matter what I did, she would do her best to keep me there for as long as she liked - anywhere between now and the unforeseeable future. She threatened to break through my neck like a set of teeth biting through muscle. Her thighs twisted inwards, crushing me in their wake like a shifting mountain. She maintained eye contact with me the entire squeeze, pulling me closer to her with every effort. There was some reassurance in this, like I trusted her in some convoluted way. My lips and eyes prickled with static blood that was on the verge of bursting out of every hole in my head and through every pour in my skin. I envisioned my skull caving in like a watermelon, my brain spewing out like coconut water. I could only look straight forward at her face, looking around might make my eyes burst.

“Fuck” I muttered through pain. I wasn’t groaning, I was wincing. “Let me go”
“Why?”
“This hurts. A lot”
“Sounds like a you problem.” She said folding her arms: She always said this too.
“You… fucker, let m...”
“Hey!” She impossibly tensed up even more when she said this “Just consider yourself lucky that I’m letting you use your hands. You might not be so lucky if you keep badmouthing me like that.”

There was no space for moving my head, my neck was in a claustrophobic cast, a cast that kept shrinking until I became crushed to atoms like a planet in a black hole. I had a moment of being absorbed by the sheer shape of her legs around my head: they felt amazingly tight and taunt. They were the width of my head, the tops of her thighs covering the bottom of my ears. This part was the squishier part for me, I struggled against this part the most. I tried to reach behind me to her ankles, but they were too far out of reach. I doubt I could do anything to them anyways. I was no longer just in a headscissor, I was a revolutionary caught by the gestapo, they interrogated me to give up information I didn't hold. If I had a info to give her, I would have given it as soon as she began squeezing.

Just when I thought she couldn't squeeze harder, she did - I was going to explode. My jaw was battered and broken; I would have loved to see an x-ray of my head and how disfigured it was. My teeth felt as though pushed together by wisdom teeth, my neck was in a similar state too. Pulling these legs away from my head was like trying to pry two of tectonic plates away from each other. While sometimes they'd allow for a slight movement, it was nowhere near enough space to escape. She tensed back up more when I tugged at them, like a pair of lungs being filled with stones.

She eased off the pressure and just held me there. This time through lack of stamina. The world returned to me as the curtain of thigh was lifted, revealing reality like a magic trick. The normal world was just as magical and mystifying as a magician’s best trick. I was drugged, the world span and rotated like a springy garden ornament caught in a storm. I felt high on weed, anaesthetically drugged. Not only were her scissors physically torturous, but they’re also mentally exhausting. Only when I was free of them for a split few seconds did I realise her legs were the perfect symbol of my unrequited love for her. I loved her and loved being close to her, but it became more unbearable the longer I remain - just like our friendship. These thoughts ricochet around my brain like the blood cells in my veins. Like insects in a net, a bouncy ball in a shrinking room, a mental patient in a room of cushions. She sat up and grabbed my hair again.
“No” I begged, the only word I could muster. She had no idea the torture she was causing me.
“Yes” she corrected me.

She began on me again
I needed to do something to fight these things. This was my final burst of energy. If I didn’t act now, I would seal my own fate. I planted my feet beneath me and stood up. She squealed in surprise. I straightened up; Her legs still twisted around me. I tried to untie the knot that was her figure-4 lock, but that proved impossible. She looked up at me and giggled like a witch who had cursed their victim. Motivated to escape her hex, I began dragging myself backward. The extra weight made it as difficult as trying to walk at high altitudes. Escaping a headscissor was like conquering nature itself, I noticed. She insisted I wait and laughed in excitement, but I didn’t listen to her. Her back slowly dragged across the table as her arms sought for things to grab. I continued my journey, ignoring her demands and focusing single-mindedly on escape. She had every advantage, more chess pieces than me and two dozen aces up each sleeve – if I slipped up once I was back to where I started. My fingers dug into the underneath of her folded knee like a crevasse in a cliff, I used it as support for my treacherous climb. Her shoulders were now nearly at the edge of the table, if I pulled her off completely she might lose her grip and release me, or she might let go prematurely and I could run for the hills. Whatever she did, I would make sure I got her off this table. Why I didn’t try this sooner is beyond me.

In one final stride backwards, I pulled her off the table, and with that, all 60 kilos. I was pulled down like I had been stuck to an anchor thrown overboard, but I clung desperately onto the side of the ship, or in this case, the divider between desks. She dangled from my head like ball and chain, she tensed to keep herself up. I was about to rip in half. I used every ounce of strength in my body to keep upright, half using my leg muscles and half leaning on the desk beside me. I was a statue in a tornado. In every right I should be ripped up from the earth and broken apart, or in this case yanked down and crushed, but I stood my ground for the sake of life and death. What I was doing was impossible. I was not a very strong guy, I wasn’t even great at keeping my balance without my weight effectively doubled, but here I stood, barely functioning and on the verge of collapse. Her hands reached for my arms for support. I kept my hands well away from her grip. She tried hoisting herself up with her legs, increasing the intensity of her knot and pulling me down more. When she did this, I thought I may fall, but, somehow, I kept upright. Her calf was hard against the back of my neck, I began to ache.

We met eyes again. She was still grinning as if she was just as on-top of the situation as she was mere seconds ago. We both stopped, panting at each other like exhausted wild animals. I was on the verge of collapsing, but I wouldn’t give in voluntarily. Enduring this pain was a whole lot better than what waited for me down there. Her grip reminded me of the plant from Jumanji that tried to eat that child, or the sarlacc that ate Boba Fett. Zoe was the dark side, lulling me to give in. Like sleep when you’re trying to stay up late. Like death. Even though I wanted to stand up straight, I knew if I did so she would feel my hardness against her. I juggled between keeping my balance and keeping my crotch from poking her from behind, all while she jerked about trying to tug me down. I felt myself slipping as if I were about to faint, both losing my grip on the desk and on consciousness itself. In exhaustion, knowing if I stayed like this that I would hurt myself, I gave in. It was only a matter of time anyway.

I fell forward onto my knees, the floor echoed beneath me.

“Finally,” she said, not letting me regain myself. “You don’t get to use your hands after that stunt you just pulled. You’re gonna regret ever trying to escape - I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

Panic. Her hands made for mine as I went to chip at her stone legs again. I tried to shoot as far upwards as I could go on my knees as to get as far away as possible, as far away as possible being a few centimetres in the opposite direction. Her hands, now attached to mine, shot to her sides on the floor. Try as I could to pull them out of her grasp, it was impossible to get them free. They were in the world’s stickiest glue, the best pair of shackles attached to a scrap yard magnet. She pulled me forward into a triangle choke before rolling over and straightening her legs. We hit the ground with a hollow thud, my lungs bouncing off my ribcage. She adjusted herself so that the part of her torso between her ribs and hips pinned down forearm. I felt her tummy melt onto me slightly, her insides all leaning on my immobilised limb. My arm began tingling with numbness under her soft heaviness. My other hand wrestled against hers in a game of tug of war, the rope being my own hand. Her legs began their work shift again; I felt the inescapable stiffening around my neck. My face felt lob sided, like it was in the middle of sliding off my face. My blood pooled into one side of my head; her thigh spilled onto my cheek. It felt quite surreal being in a situation like this, I always forgot how being touched felt like, unless I was experiencing it directly. My hands pinned, my head about to pop off, I was in a mixed wrestling porn video.

Back to square one, just like I had told myself I would be. I wasn’t that statue in the storm I thought that I was, just like anybody else I was pulled down and crushed. I had given into the dark side, fallen asleep when trying to stay up late, I had died. Everybody dies, it isn’t something to fear. Yet here I was, scared.

Maybe this time she would break my jaw, my teeth would burst from my gums like a champagne cork or shatter into shards and collect at the bottom of my mouth under my tongue. Maybe my head will actually break open this time, my insides sludging out and soaking into the carpet for the cleaners to clear up. Or maybe I’ll pass out, slowly and painfully feeling my consciousness being sucked into the void.

She clamped down further as if she weren’t even clamping before. She was right, she wasn’t properly squeezing when she was on the table. The squeeze this time felt as if from my head was a zit about to burst. I struggled to breath this time, or rather I was on the verge of not being able to breath at all. I inhaled but only some air went down and even less came out. My windpipe had seemingly shrunk to the size of a straw, my panic levels shot up as I realised that she wasn’t going to let up at all. I began snoring and groaning, desperately trying to fill my lungs and yank my hands from their own prison. I instinctively went to bring my hands up every time I lost my focus, making her laugh nearly every time she saw this. I kicked and tried to get on my own two feet again, but she pinned my upper body down like a chain hammered into the dirt. She denied my attempts to get her to let go with simple ‘no’s and ‘shut up’s, it was like talking to an animal that couldn’t understand you or the pain it was causing you. She could understand me though, she watched my face to see when if anything would happen. As impatient and excited as a child who impulsively snatched whatever they wanted, off limits or not - she squeezed more.

Just when I thought she couldn't pinch harder, she did - I felt I was going to explode. Her magnificent legs strangling me, they clamped onto me like I was caught between two deadly magnets. My head was on fire, my forehead and nose was as damp as the bathroom wall after a steamy shower. Her legs were ovens, I was being roasted alive. If only I had my hands free, I wouldn’t use them on her legs – that’d just waste my energy. I’d wipe my face. God knows I needed to. Her and my own odours rose and mingled as if awoken from a slumber. Earthy hair, sour flesh, chemical products and fragrant body odour. I felt her shifting muscles flexing and retracting, this alone made me incredibly panicked. Because that’s what I truly was – panicked. I was clinging onto the thin vine of consciousness, I feared for my own safety as if on the verge of death. I had tried reaching for her ankles, tugging her thighs, begging her, but nothing worked. She was a sadist; she wouldn’t listen to my taps. Maybe she got a kick out of it. She was extreme, ascending to a whole new level of domination. This was no longer a playfight, this was me vs Zoe, a tragic battle of the ages. I wished I could just teleport 2 feet behind myself and away from her legs, or to muster up hulk like strength and yank her puny legs away, or just have not been in the room with her in the first place. I needed to prove myself as a human. Zoe dominated me in my mind, in my dreams, in my thoughts and now in reality. I really was really in the deep end. I was pathetic.

All these thoughts didn’t matter. Everyone’s the same in a scissor hold, no matter how highly you think of yourself.

I was frantic, moving all of myself at once to tell her to let me go. I began trying to say, or rather scream, that I was about to pass out and that she had to let me go. All that came out were zombified moans and gurgled, muffled noises. My mind was beyond flaring, it was as if I were in my final moments. I began to spin backwards like I was in a dentist chair that kept leaning back, my body leaving itself for the astral plane. I saw the world upside down; I was hovering at an impossible angle above everything and everyone else. My body was traveling at 1000 mph, my vision kaleidoscope'd. I began seeing colours that didn’t exist, thinking phrases that didn’t make sense as if I had just woken up. This was the opposite of waking up: with sleep at least it’s your doing, with this it was almost supernatural. I was about to slip off a cliff or out of bed onto the floor. Feeling in my limbs began to diminish, I felt my nerves endings crumble like burnt paper. I slowly forgot about everything like a machine having its memory wiped out with a virus. The world rolled upwards and into the back of my eyes into my brain where I could no longer see it. I had passed out.

********************************
End of Part 1

[Dino77]

Good story. Love girls in tights.

[mixfightor]

That was an incredibly vivid story, mate. I found myself carried along with it, though at times I struggled to keep up with the analogies, metaphors and similes. It all served to focus the entire world down into the decreasing space between her magnificent thighs, and I both envied and sympathised with you. Zoe sounds spectacular, that rare woman who enjoys scissoring you as much as you wanted to be scissored. I am glad this was only part 1, because I REALLY want to read more about her.

Not a criticism, mate, but at one point I think you referred to her as "Mia", accidentally.

Originally Posted by Jobckn [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

Me and her had a history which, to me, made our friendship quite strange. In short, me and Mia were briefly in a relationship as young teenagers. She lost interest in me and moved on while I still loved her, but we somehow ended up in university together. We came full circle, and I wasn’t gonna let her slip away again. There was sparks between us, I was determined for her to love me too one day.

Like I said, I don't mean this as a criticism, but I thought I should point it out in case you hadn't realised.

Thank you so much for writing this for us. Your first installment definitely grabbed my attention just as hard as Zoe's thighs captured your head.

[Jobckn]

Originally Posted by mixfightor [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

That was an incredibly vivid story, mate. I found myself carried along with it, though at times I struggled to keep up with the analogies, metaphors and similes. It all served to focus the entire world down into the decreasing space between her magnificent thighs, and I both envied and sympathised with you. Zoe sounds spectacular, that rare woman who enjoys scissoring you as much as you wanted to be scissored. I am glad this was only part 1, because I REALLY want to read more about her.

Not a criticism, mate, but at one point I think you referred to her as "Mia", accidentally.



Like I said, I don't mean this as a criticism, but I thought I should point it out in case you hadn't realised.

Thank you so much for writing this for us. Your first installment definitely grabbed my attention just as hard as Zoe's thighs captured your head.

Oh crap! I wrote it in word and used the replace tool for every time it said the word 'Tia', which was the original word name for her before I changed it. I mis-typed it as 'Mia' and it didn't get filtered out. Thank you for pointing that out, I should've proof read before posting

I'm glad you liked it! The abstract analogies, similes and metaphors were on purpose as to reflect our protagonists mental state with being kept in the hold for so long. They started strange as to reflect his panic, got simpler, the more he got used to it, then got strange again as he was passing out.

I intend to write a different story perhaps before the next instalment, this next one being entirely true. Be sure to look out for it Though it's not as exaggerated as this one, it's perhaps more vivid as it's nonfiction. I'm very glad you enjoyed the story, I'll perhaps lay off the analogies next time and think of something else

[bestmixedcatcher]

Zoe (and Tia?) Is thats the the czech or the hungarian mixed grappler? Love this Ladys.

[Jobckn]

Originally Posted by bestmixedcatcher [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

Zoe (and Tia?) Is thats the the czech or the hungarian mixed grappler? Love this Ladys.

Lol I hadn't written it intending it to match those girls names. I have always liked the name tia, but liked zoe a bit more so I decided to change it

[Ezebre]

Amazing story, can we expect a part 2 anytime soon?

[bartstuy]

I agree, loved this story when the author first wrote it and i hope they continue to write stories here again when they are able to

[Jobckn]

Originally Posted by Ezebre [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]

Amazing story, can we expect a part 2 anytime soon?

Perhaps not a sequel to this, but a new story over christmas perhaps

[Dolka]

Wow what a great story, I wish you would go on