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Old 18-Nov-20, 21:59
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Default Michelle's Pressure Gauge Scissorhold

Michelle spread her legs and pulled up her tight pink dress.

Her victim rested the back of his head on her crotch.

She took a moment to adjust the position of his head so that she could tinker with her red panties.

"Keep your arms out of the way," she said. "Stay relaxed."

She started to bring her legs back together. While doing so, she gripped his hair and held his chin up so that his head would remain in place.

He took a deep breath.

She paused when her inner thighs touched the skin of his neck.

He inhaled deeply, and then tilted his head from left to right, though there was very little space to move.

In quick, successive bursts, she pulsed her thighs three times against his neck. His hands and legs jolted in reflex

"Just warming you up," she said. "When I start squeezing for real, I'll do so gradually. Keep an eye on my ankles. When you see me cross them, you'll know I'm squeezing at about 75% of the maximum pressure I intend on applying on you."

She started the pressure at 25%. At this level, she was able to get him to tense up. She could feel the muscles in his shoulders beginning to contract in defense.

With his head gripped firmly in her thighs, she sent him on a ride by turning her hips to the left and then to the right. When he tapped his hand off her thigh, she stopped and opened up just enough for him to get a breath of air.

He exhaled out.

"You alright?" She said.

"Yeah. I'm good," he said.

He tilted his head against the left side of her thigh in an attempt to stretch his neck in the limited amount of space he had between her legs.

She gave him another moment or two before giving him another squeeze.

"25%," she said.

His face grimaced. He was beginning to squirm his legs. He tapped her thigh, but this time she didn't let up.

"35%."

This time he tapped with both of his hands.

"45%."

A prominent vein became more visible in the middle of his forehead.

"50%."

He drummed his heels on the floor and he slammed his hands down on the mat.

She maintained 50% for several seconds longer before granting him the reprieve he desperatley needed.

His stomach puffed out as he took in a big breath of air when she loosened her grip.

"How's it going?" She said, giggling.

He coughed. "Damn," he said.

"You want to keep going? Or should we stop?"

"No. No. It's OK. Let's keep going."

"Alright then. Remember to keep an eye on my ankles if you can."

When she started up again, she could tell he was either tired or psyched out. He was already struggling at 25%.

When she got to 40%, she pulled her dress up a little bit further. The strings on the sides of her red panties were getting loose, so she wanted to take a moment to tighten them. Even as she did this, she maintained 40% pressure. It must have felt like an eternity for her victim. There was a lot of activity in his legs. He squirmed, kicked, and drummed his heels, all to no avail.

"50%," she said.

She could only imagine the pressure he was feeling in his jaw. His cheeks were being compressed into his nose.

"60%."

His forehead was flush red and sweaty. When she touched it, a white imprint was left behind.

"70%."

He squinted his eyes in agony and slammed his hand down on the mat.

"75%."

When she crossed her ankles, he thrashed in pain. His entire face was nearly enveloped in her thighs. She held him at 75% for several seconds.

When she opened her legs, it looked as if her victim's face was being re-inflated. He was panting.

As she spread her legs, he sat sat up and started coughing. He put his chin on his chest and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he stretched it from side to side. His breathing was quick and unsteady.

"Only a bit more to a 100," she said.

"I don't know abo-."

"Don't be a baby," she said, cutting him off.

She yanked the collar of his shirt and pulled him back down on to her to crotch. He struggled and cursed, but she was eventually able to get him into position.

She quickly applied the pressure to 25%.

He immediatley started tapping on her thighs.

She rotated her body to the left and squeezed his face into the mat with her right thigh. She then rotated to the right and repeated.

She turned up the pressure to 40% when she pivoted back to the center.

He slammed his fists off the mat.

"50%," she said.

His lower body squirmed around erratically.

"70%."

His forehead was bright red. His cheeks were compressed into his nose and lips. His eyelids were shut tight, as he grimaced in agony. He mumbled something and drool seeped out of his mouth.

"75%!"

His eyelids popped wide open when she crossed her ankles. He curled in his legs in and slammed both his hands off her thighs multiple times.

"85%."

Droplets of spit projected out of his mouth. Sweat and tears ran down his face and settled on her thighs.

"95%."

He was beginning to weeze. His eyes started to look lazy.

"Oh, gosh," she said, giggling. "Where was I? Was it 95% or 90%?"

In those several seconds that she debated with herself, his face continued to puff and display progressively darker shades of red.

"95%," she said.

In desperation, he tried to dig his arms up through any gap between her hamstrings. When that failed, he gripped the top of her thighs and tried to pry them apart. Even an inch would have given him some hope, but they were locked solid.

She snatched his wrists and pulled his arms up torwards her head.

"100! Can you feel it, baby?"

She was squeezing so hard and his head was buried so deep within her thighs that it was difficult to even see his face.

He pounded the soles of his feet off the floor, almost like he was running in place.

She raised her hips up off the floor for an added bonus. She maintained the squeeze until she knew she had to let go, knowing that she'd knock him out otherwise.

When she finally released him, he coughed out excess saliva stuck in his mouth and he was panting as if he had just finished a sprint. She watched as he got on his hands and knees and hovered his face over the floor. Snots were bubbling out of his nose. It looked like he was going to puke. She took a step away from him.

He massaged his neck, looked at her with bloodshot eyes, and simply shook his head.

-Lovethegrapevine
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fiction, headscissor, headscissors, mixed wresling, scissor, story, tap outs

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