Easy money - 2

Marge and Cherrise helped Steve through the door to the trainer's room. "Okay if I go back out?" Cherrise asked Marge. "I wanna get in some weight work before I leave." 

 

"Sure, go ahead," Marge replied. See you later." Cherrise stepped in front of Steve and regarded him with both pity and amusement. "Well, you sure got a tough initiation, Steve," she said, shaking her head. "Get some practice in before you try this again." Still shaking her head, she walked out. 

 

Steve looked around the room, still having trouble focusing his eyes -- Tommie's vicious attack had nearly closed one of them. There was a lot of equipment in the room, including an ultrasound machine. 

 

Marge told Steve to lie down. She called toward the back of the room, "Hey, Jules, you here?" A voice called back, and Marge continued, "I've got a new customer for you." She turned back to Steve and said, "Julia's our trainer. She'll set up your general training schedule, and you'd better follow it! Specialized training, with me or Elaine or Akira -- she's the martial arts coach -- will be set up after we've talked to Patricia about you. Akira isn't here today, but I figure she'll evaluate you sometime soon." 

 

A big, Nordic looking woman came out of the back. Her ivory colored hair hung down her back in a thick braid. Lying down, Steve couldn't tell how tall she was, but she was at least a head taller than Marge. Like all the women he'd met that day, Julia had thick, muscular arms, huge shoulders, brawny thighs, and a big, deep chest. She wore a white leotard and white short pleated skirt which showed the oaken thickness of her thighs. The tee shirt showed signs of straining to cover her breasts. She was deeply tanned with pale blue eyes. Her hands were big and strong looking. 

 

"So. Vhat have ve here, Margie?" she asked in a slightly accented voice. 

 

"A new employee. Patricia was short one man today and made him get in the ring right away." Marge gestured at Steve's face. "You see here the results of not being ready for a fight with Tommie." 

 

Julia grunted. "So, Tommie did this? Goot. The nutrition plan and exercise I have her on is vorking then." 

 

Julia prodded at Steve's face, probing the bruises, and he yelped and tried to move away. "Hey! That hurts!" he protested. 

 

"Ach, don't be such a baby. Vhat is your name?" 

 

"Steve," he replied. 

 

"Vell, Steve, I know it hurts, but I haff to see if anything is broken. I'll stitch up your lip, too. Most of the facial injuries are zuperficial. Cold compresses vill bring the zvelling down in no time. Vhere else does it hurt?" 

 

Steve indicated his belly and ribs. Julia carefully pulled his tee shirt up and shorts down. Steve squirmed with embarrassment. "Relax, Steve. You don't haff anything I haven't zeen before." Julia frowned as she looked at his sore torso. "Margie, please hold Steve's shoulders down." Marge put her big, strong hands on his shoulders, pressing them to the table. "I need to probe your belly a bit, Steve," said Julia. "It'll probably hurt like hell, but I need to find out if anything's really damaged in there." 

 

He gasped and writhed as Julia pushed and prodded at his belly in a competent, professional manner. Steve nearly screamed when she felt his left side, right at the ribs. Julia straightened up and nodded at Marge to let him go. He was sweating from the pain of the examination. "Vell, Tommie zertainly has learned how to hurt men," Julia commented, "at least men who haven't been trained properly yet. I hope you're not going to use her against any more beginners." she commented to Marge. 

 

"No, she'll be fighting the intermediate men for a while," Marge replied. "I hadn't realized just how strong she'd gotten, nor how vicious." 

 

"Tommie vas alvays vicious in the ring, Margie," replied Julia. "Now, though, she's strong enough to be dangerous, and she really doesn't know her own strength." The big blonde turned back to Steve. "I don't think anything's broken, but I'll get X-rays und zee. Nothing else seriously damaged, except maybe your pride, eh?" 

 

Julia busied herself with getting the X-ray equipment ready. Steve looked worried, but Marge reassured him. "Don't worry, Julia's a licensed medical doctor and radiologist, as well as a certified athletic trainer and nutritionist." 

 

Julia came back over and helped Steve to sit up. "Und," she said, eyes twinkling, "I am vun voman you don't vant to fight until you've had a lot more experience." 

 

Julia went into the darkroom to develop the X-rays, and Marge sat in the room talking to Steve, trying to make him feel at home. "You had kind of a rough introduction today, Steve. Sorry about that." She frowned. "If I'd known Tommie was getting that good, I'd have told Patricia to get someone else to fight, wasted time or not." 

 

"I thought you were the boxing coach. How come you didn't know?" 

 

Marge looked uncomfortable. "You're right, I should have known. But I'm supervising boxing training for three dozen women and about fifteen men, besides refereeing the bouts. Sometimes the only chance I have to rate a boxer is in the ring." She patted Steve's arm. "Like I said, sorry. I'll make sure you have a chance to get ready before your next bout. I still think you've got the potential to be a good boxer." 

 

Julia came out of the darkroom holding the dripping X-ray film. "Zo, goot news, Steve," she chuckled. "No breaks, just a nasty bruise. I'll vant to zee you here tomorrow at ten AM to zet up a training schedule und diet for you." 

 

She went to work on Steve's face. Already the cold compresses had reduced the swelling and pain, and he could see out of both eyes now. Julia stitched his split lip and stood back. "Better," she nodded. "Now, get out of here! I vant to zee the match at four, und it's nearly that now." She helped him to sit up again. "Tonight I think a vhirlpool is not a goot idea, tomorrow maybe. Und don't eat too much!" she added, laughing. 

 

Marge helped Steve on with his shorts and shirt. "Why are you sticking around, Marge?" he asked. 

 

"Guilt trip, partly," she admitted. "I hope you'll forgive me for putting in the ring too soon against an opponent as good as Tommie. And, like Julia, I don't want to miss the four o'clock fight" 

 

"No problem about the fight," Steve said, looking into her gray eyes. "I knew what I was getting into." He winced as he stood on the floor. "Just not how much it was going to hurt." 

 

Marge laughed deeply and regarded him with some respect. "That's a great attitude, Steve," she said. "Now, let me show you around a little and you can get dressed." 

 

Marge opened a door leading to the back doors of the men's and women's locker rooms. Indicating a third door, she said, "That's the whirlpool and steam bath. Co-ed. You can wear trunks in there if you want, but most of men don't wear anything." Steve stared at her a moment. "See, Steve, this is a business. All the men and women are Patricia's employees, and she's definitely the boss. The guys are usually a little apprehensive when they start out, just like you, but they come around eventually." 

 

"What about sex?" he asked. "Do the men and women get together?" 

 

Marge smiled a secret little smile. "Sometimes," she said mysteriously. 

 

Steve wondered at that, then asked, "Julia mentioned fighting. Is she one of the women who fight?" 

 

"We all are, including Elaine, Akira, and me, although I don't fight too often. So is Patricia." 

 

"Huh?" he responded cleverly. 

 

Marge looked at her watch. "Come on. The four o'clock match is just starting. You might find this interesting." 

 

When they re-entered the main room, Steve was surprised to see that the chairs surrounding the ring were nearly all full. Women, and a few men, filled the chairs. Julia waved to Marge and indicated a pair of free seats beside her. Steve found himself sitting between Marge and Elaine. 

 

Elaine smiled at him and said, "I heard what happened to you, Steve. Having second thoughts?" 

 

He grinned and shook his head. "Not until I've had a chance to train with you," he replied. Elaine laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder, about the only place above his waist that didn't hurt. 

 

"What's going on?" Steve asked Marge. 

 

"Patricia's going to fight," she answered. When he looked at blankly, she explained. "Patricia got into the business at a real young age. She was always athletic as a kid, and she'd sometimes get into fights with other kids." 

 

Elaine picked up the story. "When she was about fifteen, a guy who made fighting videos saw her beat up this guy on the beach and he knew she could be a star. I mean, here was this fifteen year old girl, absolutely drop dead gorgeous, who already knew how to fight. Patricia worked for the guy for a few years, and he even sprung for Karate lessons for her. She found out that not only was she good at fighting, she really liked to do it. Anyway, by the time she was nineteen, he was getting a hundred bucks for her tapes." 

 

Marge jumped in again. "Patricia got pissed that this guy was making all this money and she felt like she was getting peanuts, so she asked the guy. He didn't think she was worth what she was asking, so she challenged him to a fight." Steve stared at Marge in disbelief, but she raised her right hand and said, "Swear to God, this is the truth." 

 

"So," Elaine resumed, "the stakes were her salary for a year, for however many fights the guy wanted her to be in, against the guy's company. Patricia insisted on no holds barred, and that the match be taped." 

 

"Now, this guy was no lightweight," Marge said. "He went about two-fifty, stood about six-four. He know how to fight, too. So he figured, 'What the hell? Why not?'" 

 

"Patricia beat the crap out of him," Elaine gushed. "You oughtta see the tape. She turned him every way but loose. At the end, he was a whimpering, blubbering wreck." 

 

Marge nodded. "So, Patricia won the company and got all the women and some of the men to work for her. She turned AmaFlix into a multi-million dollar operation. But," she added, a twinkle in her eye, "she still LOVES to get in the ring herself. Problem is, none of the guys who work here really want to fight her." She smiled again and added, "Sometimes, though, they don't have a choice." 

 

Elaine chimed in. "Besides the guys here, there's three types of men she fights. The first is the rich guys who buy the tapes. They'll pay through the nose for a private session with Patricia. Those tapes aren't for sale -- the only copy goes to the guy who pays for the match. I think she charges a minimum of ten grand for an hour on the mat with her -- if the guy can last that long. They usually don't, even though she takes it easy on 'em" Elaine grinned and continued. "The second type of guy she fights is the typical macho tough guy. She goes out to scout tough man contests, that sort of thing, and offers the champ of the contest fifty thousand bucks for one fight, but only if he can beat her," said Elaine. "It's chicken feed to her. Besides, I've never seen her lose." 

 

"I've heard that the reason she likes to fight the winners of tough guy contests is that she tried to enter one once, but the promoter wouldn't let her, saying, 'you might get hurt'," said Marge. "I don't know if it's true, but it'd explain a lot." 

 

"The third type is, well, scum," resumed Elaine. "She's got contacts at the local jails. Anytime there's some jerk who gets off by raping or beating up women, they generally show up here and Patricia gives them a demonstration of what it's like to be on the receiving end." 

 

The general hubbub died down as one of the women, carrying a microphone, climbed into the ring. She was dressed in a tuxedo jacket, black bunny leotard, black stockings and red heels. She looked into one of the cameras and said, "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to another Patricia Daniels special. Tonight, Patricia's opponent will be Tony 'Jawbreaker' Addison, the champion of the Allegheny, Pennsylvania 'Toughest Man' tournament. The rules for this match are simple: No weapons allowed, no time limit. The fight will continue until one of the fighters quits or is knocked out for a count of sixty seconds." 

 

The announcer glanced toward the back, then continued, "Introducing first, making his way to the ring, Tony 'Jawbreaker' Addison." A big, muscular man walked toward the ring. "Addison is six feet four inches tall and weighs two hundred and forty-seven pounds." 

 

The burly, dark haired man climbed between the ropes and stood in a corner, glowering at the crowd. He wore gray shorts and what looked like work boots. His arms and shoulders were heavy with muscles, but he had a slight softness around the belly and his legs looked somewhat flabby. "Wouldn't wanna meet him in a dark alley," muttered Steve. 

 

"Now introducing the undisputed AmaFlix champion. She is six feet one half inch tall and weighs two hundred and one pounds. Ladies and gentlemen, Patricia Daniels!" Steve still couldn't believe that this beautiful woman was a fighter, even after listening to Elaine and Marge. Patricia still wore the blue robe she'd had on earlier, but now had white wrestling boots on her feet instead of the shoes she'd worn earlier. Her mane of honey blonde hair framed one of the loveliest faces Steve had ever seen. 

 

He wondered if any of the people she'd fought had marked that face at all, or if they were so mesmerized by it they couldn't bring themselves to harm it. Tony Addison watched her enter the ring with a sneer on his lips and lust in his eyes. If he had a chance to damage that face, Steve knew he'd take it. 

 

Patricia smiled serenely at her opponent as she climbed into the ring. She didn't seem concerned that was giving up three and a half inches and nearly fifty pounds to a man who'd just as soon stomp her unconscious as look at her. Patricia removed her robe. Steve gasped in astonishment. Even though he'd been expecting her to be a powerful woman, the extent of her muscularity astounded him. 

 

Patricia wore a silver leotard that complemented her deep tan and honey blonde hair perfectly. Her head sat atop the thick, sinewy column of her neck, which blended into dense trapezius muscles. Her shoulders were exceptionally broad. The deltoid muscles capping those shoulders were the size of honeydew melons, and looked to be the consistency of iron. Well defined triceps writhed as she hung the robe on one of the ring posts. Even without seeing them flexed, her biceps were awe inspiring. Her back muscles were thick and well defined, narrowing sharply to her waist. The glutes above her tree-trunk legs danced with every movement she made. 

 

Patricia's calves were enormous, diamond shaped balls of sinew. When she turned around so Steve could see her from the front, he saw that her thighs were packed with dense, rippling muscles and looked bigger than her waist. "Optical illusion," he thought. Her abdominal definition defied description -- the deep indentations between the solid masses of thick muscle made the term "washboard stomach" obsolete. Her breasts, perched high and proud on her thick, striated pecs, were firm and well shaped, obviously needing no support. The leotard top was just for modesty. 

 

Steve's mouth hung open about a foot as he beheld this breathtaking combination of female beauty and power. Marge said, laughing, "Trying to catch flies, Steve?" Steve closed his mouth and shook his head, as if he were hallucinating, but the image of Patricia was still there. 

 

Elaine poked him in the ribs (fortunately not the bruised ones, but it still hurt) and said, "Really something, isn't she? Half the women and all the men who work for her have a crush on that woman, and they're all scared to death to get in the ring with her. She's even stronger than she looks, you know," she added. 

 

"I don't think that's possible," he muttered. 

 

"It's true! I've seen her outlift every male power lifter around! If she wanted to compete in bodybuilding or weightlifting shows, do you think anyone could beat her?" Elaine shook her head.

 

"But she only wants to have the spotlight on her when she's fighting in the ring." 

 

"Goddess!" Steve whispered as Patricia flexed her biceps, smiling for the camera. "She's unbelievable." 

 

"Believe it, Steve," said Marge from his other side. "Since you're new here, and all the newbies want to know, her measurements are forty-nine, twenty-seven, thirty-eight. She has eighteen and a half inch arms, when she's really pumped, twenty-nine inch thighs, and twenty inch calves." So the waist being smaller than the thighs wasn't an illusion, thought Steve. "She can bench press eight hundred pounds, and God only knows what she can squat. And she's completely without mercy. Once she gets her opponent in trouble, she won't let up. Totally relentless." 

 

Meanwhile, inside the ring Addison was getting visibly impatient. "We gonna do this or not, lady?" he growled. If Patricia's incredible physique impressed him in any way he didn't show it. "Let's get the show on the road!" 

 

Patricia took her time making sure her robe was draped just so over the ring post in her corner. Steve knew that this was part of the game, part of the psyche out. She stretched like a cat, standing on her toes so that her immense calves bulged and flexed like crazy. She turned to face Addison and purred, "Are you really in that much of a hurry to lose?" Smiling, she added, "I guess we'll accomodate you then, Mr. Addison." Turning to the woman in the tuxedo, who was apparently timekeeper and bellringer as well as announcer, Patricia said, "Anytime you're ready, Elizabeth," Elizabeth tapped the bell sharply with a hammer, and the match was on. 

 

Addison wasted no time. Almost racing across the ring, he tried to crush Patricia into the corner with his sheer mass. Patricia sidestepped gracefully, leaving Addison with no one to grab. Before Addison could turn around, the beautiful woman kicked him behind his left knee. Addison grunted in pain and nearly fell, probably would have if he wasn't in the corner with the ropes to hold onto. Patricia unhurriedly slipped directly behind Addison and wrapped her brawny arms around his lower chest. 

 

Patricia's arms were impressive in repose, but when she jerked back with both arms, the biceps, triceps, and forearms all seemed to come alive, as if there were snakes beneath her velvety skin. Addison's lungs emptied as Patricia constricted the circle of her arms, driving up under the big man's diaphragm and robbing him of the ability to breathe. 

 

Addison's prodigious biceps swelled as he tried to pry Patricia's arms apart with his own, but he might as well have been trying to loosen iron bands for all the success he had. He began to turn red as his lungs demanded more oxygen than he could get through the vise formed by Patricia's Herculean upper limbs. He began to thrash desperately, trying to shake loose, but Patricia showed no signs that he was causing her any problem at all. 

 

"Watch this!" whispered Elaine. Patricia took a deep breath, bent her knees slightly, and then with an incredible display of raw power yanked the big man bodily off his feet. Continuing the movement, she bent herself backwards and flung the helpless man down to the mat. Addison landed hard on the back of his head and shoulders. "Perfect suplex," breathed Elaine. Patricia retained her grip on Addison's waist, and bridged her body backwards so that only her feet and the top of her head remained on the mat. Effortlessly she maintained that position for around ten seconds, holding the squirming man's shoulders firmly to the canvas. It was obvious to everyone there that, if this were a normal wrestling match, Patricia would have just won by a pinfall. 

 

Patricia finally released her hold and let Addison roll away. She pulled her legs in to her chest, and quickly leaped to her feet in an extremely athletic move that would have been impressive if it had been done by a ninety pound gymnast, let alone a two hundred plus pound woman. Addison climbed clumsily to his feet, gasping for air, to find Patricia already advancing on him. 

Addison tried to punch Patricia, swinging a hard left hook that would have done some damage if it had landed. "He shouldn't have done that," murmured Marge. Patricia slipped the punch easily and responded with a quick left jab of her own. Her big fist caught Addison in the left cheekbone, snapping his head back. Patricia followed up with three more jabs before Addison could react, driving him back with the damaging blows. Addison swung wildly, looking somewhat like a bear trying to swat bees away, but Patricia avoided his punches with ease. Steve heard Marge muttering to herself, "Jab, jab, that's it, move just a bit, now the right!" 

 

Almost as if she were listening, Patricia finally drove her right fist deep into Addison's belly. Half of Patricia's forearm seemed to disappear. Her sledgehammer blow penetrated whatever muscles were hidden by the roll of fat there and crashed deep into Addison's vitals. 

 

A strangled gasp escaped Addison's mouth and he literally collapsed to the mat. Steve could only imagine the power Patricia possessed, to take all the fight out of this big, brutish man with just a single incredible punch. The brawny beauty didn't give Addison any time to recover. She picked him up and jumped high into the air, both of her feet smashing into Addison's chest in a drop kick. The big man was catapulted back into the corner, where he fell face-first to the mat. 

 

Patricia rose easily to her feet and turned so everyone could get a good look at her in her glory. Her face was still serene and beautiful, giving no indication that she was involved in a brutal fight. She brushed a strand of honey colored hair out of her face and regarded her opponent thoughtfully, as if wondering what she should do to him next. 

 

Steve thought that Addison was finished. According to the rules, if she left him for a sixty second count and he stayed down, the match was over. Marge murmured, "She's not done yet. She loves to hear guys say 'I quit'." 

 

Sure enough, Patricia walked over to Addison's prone form and nudged him in the side with her toe. "Come on, big man," she said in her husky voice, "get up and fight." Addison twitched, then pushed himself up with his arms until he was on all fours. Patricia took one arm in her big hands and hauled him upright, then turned Addison so he faced her. Patricia slapped Addison twice, forehanded and backhanded, snapping his head from side to side. A trickle of blood from Addison's nose sprayed through the air and landed on Patricia's chest. She took one drop on her finger and placed it in her mouth. A beatific smil spread across her face, and she ran her tongue around her lips. It was almost like watching a porno flick, and Steve began to get hard. 

 

Elaine noticed and whispered, "Like what you're seeing, huh?" 

 

He blushed, and Marge murmured from his other side, "Don't be embarrassed, Steve. Most of us are feeling something similar, and we've seen Patricia do this before. Look over there." She indicated two women sitting very close together, watching the match intently, their hands busy between each other's legs. 

 

Steve turned his attention back to the ring. Patricia had shoved Addison back toward a corner. He was beginning to regain more of his senses, and grabbed clumsily at her. One big hand caught at Patricia's leotard top and pulled it aside, exposing her firm, round breasts. "Another big mistake," muttered Marge. 

 

Indeed, Patricia lost some of her serenity. Her knee, propelled by her huge quadriceps, smashed into Addison's belly. The big man fell back into the corner, and Patricia spun around with the grace of a ballerina and drove her booted foot into the big man's chin. Addison's head snapped back, crashing into the corner padding, and he rebounded forward right into Patricia's follow up, a vicious side kick just below his sternum, right in the solar plexus. 

 

Addison fell like a puppet with its strings cut. He lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the ring. Patricia looked down at him disdainfully, then adjusted her leotard back over her perfect breasts. She ran both hands through her tangled hair and pushed it back from her face, then knelt and yanked Addison's head up by the hair. She showed Addison's face to the camera, then smiled again and said, "Men are putty in my hands." She licked her lips again, then let Addison's head drop back to the mat. 

 

Standing up, Patricia stood over the fallen behemoth like an Amazon warrior who had just made mincemeat out of the man fool enough to challenge her. She flexed her eighteen inch plus biceps again for the cameras. "Like 'em, boys?" she asked sexily, indicating her heavily muscled arms. "Just imagine how you'd feel if they were wrapped around you. Think about being trapped in my deadly embrace. Fantasize about how it would feel to have these arms crushing your insignificant body. Think about it," she said, her husky voice filled with both menace and seduction. 

 

The lethal lovely then pointed to her semi-conscious opponent. "I'm not finished with him yet. Watch and dream, boys." 

 

She turned from the camera. Bending down over Addison, she turned him onto his back. Pulling his limp body into a sitting position, Patricia maneuvered so that she could stand up with Addison draped face down across her brawny shoulders. With no apparent effort, Patricia stood up, lifting Addison's dead weight easily. She paraded twice around the ring, giving everyone there a chance to marvel at her power. She tossed Addison's body up a couple of inches, then dropped him again, pulling down vigorously so her shoulders were driven forcibly into his stomach. She repeated the performance a few times, until Addison began to gag and come alive again. 

 

"Gahh... What the hell? Lemme down!" Addison growled, squirming around to get loose. 

 

"Down? Okay, down you go!" In another awesome display of her brute strength, Patricia lifted Addison's squirming body over her head and launched him through the air. He came down, arms and legs windmilling, from about eight feet above the mat to land with a loud SPLAT on the canvas. 

 

Addison writhed in pain as Patricia strutted over to him and just stood there, hands on hips. Addison slowly climbed to his hands and knees, then got his feet under him and stood up. Now Steve could see blood flowing from Addison's mouth and nose. A huge bruise was visible on his stomach, the result of Patricia's first crippling punch. Addison wiped his face and mumbled, "Goddamn bitch! I'll kill you!" 

 

Patricia lashed out at Addison's face, her big fist slamming into his jaw and dropping him to the mat like a stone. She dropped down, wrapped her husky arms around his chest from behind and trapped his head between her enormous thighs. "Time for you to learn two things, boy," she said ominously. "One, don't make threats you aren't able to follow through on. Two, you shouldn't use that kind of language to a lady, especially a lady as strong as me." 

 

Patricia punctuated her point by tightening her steely muscles around Addison's outclassed body, jolting his head and torso and causing him ever increasing pain. A muffled scream came from between her titanic thighs as she crushed Addison's head with her unimaginable power. 

 

"P-p-please, don't..." he gasped, "d-d-don't killlll meeeeee...."

 

Another increase of the pressure on his trapped head elicited,

 

"Aaaarrrgggghhhh! Oh God, please, let me go, you're gonna smash my skull." 

 

Addison's cries grew more inarticulate and faded away altogether. Steve began to wonder if she had actually killed him. Finally Patricia unlocked her ankles and stood up. Blood from Addison's face stained her man-crushing thighs, and perspiration glistened on her pumped up muscles, making her a vision of beauty and ferocity. Steve could see now that Addison was still breathing, and he wondered how long it would be before Patricia returned to her task of destroying the man. 

 

The big blonde strode to the ropes on one side of the ring. She smiled angelically for the camera, then said, "Could I have a towel, please?" Five women and three men all jumped up and offered Patricia towels. She took one proffered by a tall, lean dark haired man. "Thanks, Raoul," she said, patting him on the cheek. She used the towel to remove the crimson splotches from her thighs, then handed it back to Raoul. 

 

Patricia walked back to where Addison lay senseless on the canvas. She tried to rouse him, but he seemed dead to the world. Sexily walking to the opposite side of the ring, she asked if anyone had some water handy. This time a dozen men and women scrambled to their feet waving water bottles, hoping to be the one chosen. Patricia took a bottle from a short, muscular redhead and murmured, "Thank you, Sue, that's most kind of you." Sue seemed to swell as her idol accepted the water. Patricia squirted some water into her mouth, then sprayed the rest of the bottle at Addison's bloody, battered face. 

 

The blood stained the water pink, and it pooled on the canvas. Addison stirred, then sputtered as he breathed in some of the liquid. Rolling to his hands and knees, the beaten man coughed up some more blood. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and it was apparent that this was a mistake as he groaned in pain and slumped down to his elbows. Holding his head carefully, he probed for damage. 

 

"Come on, boy, I don't have all day," Patricia said. Addison knelt back on his haunches and looked up at the ferocious female towering over him. The lust in his eyes had been replaced by fear for this Amazon warrior queen. The blonde Amazon grabbed a handful of Addison's hair and pulled him to his feet. Addison's knees wobbled, his eyes were glassy, and he would have fallen except for Patricia's iron grip. She forced his head between her colossal thighs again, and Steve thought that Addison was in for another dose of Excedrin headache number one, but Patricia had other ideas. 

 

Patricia wrapped her beefy arms around Addison's middle and, with an incredible display of power, heaved him up in the air, flipped him so his back and shoulders faced the mat, and threw him down with bone crunching force. Steve was afraid that the impact of Addison's body crashing to the mat would smash the floor of the ring, but it held somehow. Addison lay there limply, one leg twitching a bit to show he was still alive. Patricia looked directly into one of the cameras and said, "Ooohh, I'll bet that hurt, don't you think so?" She hit a couple of muscle poses, showing off once again her beautiful, deadly muscles, and continued in her sexiest voice, "So what do you think, boys? Wanna come over to my place and play? I'll torture you with my big legs and powerful arms until you beg for mercy." She pointed back at Addison and added, "Just like he's going to do." She licked her lips again and Steve nearly creamed his jeans. Everyone in the room was mesmerized by Patricia's performance as she sauntered back over to where Addison remained. Her smile was vicious now as she finished her speech, "Of course, I don't have any mercy." 

 

Patricia knelt astride Addison's broken body and lightly slapped his battered face. "C'mon, big man, wake up," she cooed. A couple of taps and Addison began to come around. Patricia leaned down and placed her sinewy forearm across the man's throat. Addison gagged and began to thrash as she put more weight on his throat, cutting off his air. His eyes opened and he struggled weakly to rid himself of his beautiful tormentress, but Addison's feeble efforts to throw Patricia off were ineffective. "A little hard to breathe, huh?" breathed Patricia. "How does it feel, big man? How does it feel to get beat up by a woman? I've heard you like to beat up women sometimes," she added, "what's it like to be on the receiving end?" She raised up so he could breathe again and flexed her arms again. "Just look at these babies. Why, they're hard as steel." She poked at one of Addison's arms. "Not at all like those flabby muscles on your arms. I can do whatever I want to you -- you know that, don't you?" Addison nodded weakly and Patricia smiled warmly. "That's a good boy. Before I'm done you're going to beg for me to stop hurting you -- you know that too, right?" 

 

Patricia slid off Addison's torso and maneuvered Addison so his chest was between her titanic thighs. Addison was either too scared or too far gone to attempt to escape. All the enormous muscles in Patricia's back, thighs, and calves stood out in bold relief as she applied pressure to the scissors. By now Addison was trying to pry her thighs apart, but for all the good he was doing he might as well have been pushing at a stone wall. Actually, the stone wall might have given way before Patricia's powerful muscles did. She felt his sternum and ribs bend and stopped right at the breaking point. Addison was sobbing and begging to be released, and she seemed to oblige him. 

 

Patricia unlocked her ankles and kicked Addison over on his stomach again. Moving quickly now, she bent his legs in such a way that one ankle was locked behind the other bent knee. In this way she could control both legs with pressure on a single ankle. Using one of her enormous legs, she pinned Addison's lower limbs in place. Elaine whispered excitedly, "It's almost over now. She's gonna wrap this up in just a second." Now, squatting over Addison's back with his legs drawn up under her, Patricia captured both of the big man's wrists in a single massive hand. With a fierceness that expanded her bicep to it's fullest, she forced his wrists up between his shoulder blades. Addison was sobbing continuously now, begging for mercy. "Oh God, please, no more. I've had enough, please don't hurt me. Arrrggghh! No, please, don't hurt me anymore." 

 

Patricia chuckled. "They all beg, in the end, but like I said, I don't have any mercy." She had the helpless male all tied up, but one of her arms was still free. With it, she grabbed Addison under the chin and pulled his head back. "This is what happens to anyone, man or woman, fool enough to get in the ring with me," she said. "Now, if you don't want your neck broken, you'd better quit, boy." 

 

"Yes, I do, I quit, please don't hurt me, pleeease." 

 

"Hmm, sounds like this is a little painful. Now say, 'Please, Patricia, you're too strong and powerful for me. I'm just a poor weak man and you're a big strong woman.'" 

 

"Pleeease, Patricia," Addison mumbled, "you're too strong and powerful for me. I'm just a poor weak man and you're a big strong woman." 

 

"Good. Now say, 'Patricia, you're a goddess. I want to worship you.'" 

 

"Patricia, you're a goddess," Addison repeated obediently. "I wanna worship you." 

 

Patricia released her excruciating hold and Addison lay there, helpless. Picking his head up by the hair again, she said, "Time to say nighty-night, baby." 

 

Wrapping her right arm under his chin and locking that hand in the crook of her left elbow, she pressed his head to one side with her left arm. "Sleeper hold," Elaine explained to Steve. "Cuts off the blood to his brain, not that there was much flowing there in the first place." 

 

Patricia let Addison go after about a minute. His back moved as he breathed, so Steve could tell he was still alive, but he didn't envy Addison his hospital stay. And what would he tell people when they asked what happened to him -- "Some woman beat the crap outta me"? 

 

Patricia stood up, turned, and sexily walked across the ring. The announcer had re-entered the ring and raised the hand of the strapping blonde, saying, "The winner by submission in eighteen minutes, seven seconds, Patricia Daniels!" Patricia faced the hand-held camera. The operator had also climbed between the ropes so he could get a good close up of her in all her glory. "Remember, boys," cooed the powerful seductress, flexing again, "you can experience this too, if you dare. Think about eighteen inch arms wrapped around your head, squeezing like a vise. Imagine the force exerted by twenty-nine inches of muscle in these python-like thighs, imagine it if I just decided to snap all your ribs with them. Fantasize about me completely dominating your weak, pathetic body, forcing you to say things, do things..." She licked her lips again and whispered, "Dream about me." 

 

She jumped over the ropes to the floor and strode vigorously to a standing ovation from her employees, worshipers all. Steve wiped the sweat from his face and breathed, "Wow." 

 

Julia turned to him and said, "Really zomething, eh? Don't forget, I vant to zee you tomorrow morning at ten sharp. Ve need to zet up a diet and training schedule." He nodded. "Goot. Margie, vill you help me? I'm afraid Mr. Addison vill need my attention, und I may need your assistance." 

 

Marge nodded, then held out her hand to Steve. "See you tomorrow." 

 

Elaine took his arm. "Need a ride, Steve? I'm heading out." 

 

"I can take a bus," he began, but Elaine held up a hand. "I insist. Can't let you use public transportation this time of day. No telling what kind of nasty people are out there." Elaine waved at Marge and Julia. "'Night, ladies," she called, then led him to the door.