Donna consulted a few women on the darker side of combat sports, and one of them had quietly taken her to one side:

"While it’s a compliment to you, I know practice is crucial if you’re to get the coveted qualification. Meet me here tomorrow, and I’ll lend you something that I use on my husband."

"Whatever is it?" whispered Donna.

"It’s two things, actually. Chloroform to knock him out, then a chastity cage for his cock, to stop those inconvenient erections."

The mysterious woman was as good as her word, and the next evening, Donna went home with the two items innocently in her handbag. "Oh well," she thought, with a chloroform-soaked cloth in her hand as Oscar lay dozing, "here goes."

The doze became a deep sleep, and when he woke up, he was naked, with a weird contraption locked around his penis. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy.

"Well, that’s good that you’re not happy," Donna told him. "Because you can get your revenge on me (if you can) in the ring, now. Come on, I need the practice."

Oscar protested vehemently all the way to the ring that they had the use of. It was none too warm either, and her insistence on his being naked was another annoyance. But she reminded him of his promise to help her prepare for the match.

"Yeah, well I’ve had enough," he told her, so angry that he brandished his fist at her. It’s the weekend, and all I want to do is eat, drink and watch football. Instead - yet again - I’m here in this shitty old warehouse, supposed to help you in your lost cause of wrestling a man."

That did it for Donna. After a glared warning, she slapped his face, then jumped at him and gripped his neck in her strong left arm, menacing him with her other fist. But Oscar lifted her up in a bear hug. However, with her arms free, she struck at his face, forcing him to drop her.

Once back on her feet, she grabbed his ears. Donna and Oscar were so mutually angry that it was more like an out-and-out fight than a formal wrestling practice. She pulled his ears, while he had both hands on his buttocks – not a good idea, considering the chastity cage. He suddenly let go when it gave his cock a nasty nip.

Donna grabbed his face and poked his eyes. Oscar’s hands went up to the keen pain in both of them. As always, this savage action entirely immobilised him for the moment. It was so effective that she did it again, pushing him down to his knees as she did it. He yelled in pain and vainly tried to prize her hands off, while tumbling onto his back.

Still Donna continued. How this would have helped her practice is unclear, but it certainly rendered her present opponent helpless. At last she desisted, and moved to a schoolgirl pin, pushing her beautiful large breasts into his face, and smothering him. This was an especially cruel move, because his cock reacted straight away, straining agonisingly against the cage.

Oscar, his natural strength bolstered with the need to end the sharp pain in his manhood, thrust his right arm up. Seizing her jaw, he managed to force her off him. But she turned his initially successful defence into an arm lock, weakening it. It meant he couldn’t oppose her when she slipped onto her back, taking him with her, and forcing him into a body scissor from underneath. To add to his discomfort, she locked her strong arms around his neck.

Donna was skilled at the numerous variations of scissor, and she soon had him on his knees, while her powerful thighs continued their exhausting constriction of his middle. She had a hold of his right arm, while he tried to free himself by dragging her away via her left arm. Although it failed, it irritated her enough to swap holds. As he was already on his knees, she jumped her lower body up to scissor his neck, while she dragged his left arm through her thighs in a triangle choke.

This was what she had come to do! Some quality wrestling practice was needed if she was to win her upcoming match, and she happily went to work, draining the life out of his arm and squeezing the same out of his neck with her legs.

Talking of squeezing, she hadn’t yet tried a head scissor. So she made amends with a novel variation of one. Lying to the side of Oscar, she had her right leg do all the work, engulfing his neck and right arm in its crook, while her left leg provided support. Whatever protests he made were muffled in thigh muscle. It was a repeat of the triangle choke, with the difference that it was now his other arm that was locked.

For the first time, Donna relaxed a little and allowed herself a smile. She had her man where she wanted him, so she sat on the canvas, supporting herself on her hands. She had swapped his arms again, and she tightened her flexible, formidable legs around his neck and arm. Once again, Oscar vainly tried to escape, his free but weakened right hand doing its best (which was nowhere near enough) to wrest her right leg off him.

"Strangely enough, wrestling can be quite relaxing," she mused out loud, getting an indecipherable answer into her leg in response.

Sitting behind him, Donna now gave the work to her left leg, encasing his neck in its grip. Her legs seemed to be as malleable as spaghetti, but as firm as iron. You have to admire Oscar for not giving up, despite all the evidence that his hands were useless at releasing himself from her legs.

Donna shifted almost lazily to her side, craftily enclosing both his arms now. Oscar had no choice but to go with her. He had become her plaything; she could make him move to her every whim, without even using her hands. You couldn’t call this hold a head scissor when it included both his arms – perhaps omni scissor would be the closest description. Whatever, it was totally effective, and it had him choking and gasping, while his arms were locked and seemed to burn.

Opting to go side-on once more, Donna allowed Oscar’s right arm out of her grip, and it flopped uselessly to his side. But she maintained the pressure on his neck and left arm. This perspective gave her the advantage of seeing the contortions of pain she was creating on his facial expressions. It also provided the psychological advantage whereby he couldn’t avoid her eyes whenever he opened his – and she had the eyes of a woman who knows she is besting a man.

Donna rolled onto her other side, which dragged Oscar up into an ungainly position on his knees. She released his left arm from the scissor, but held his near right arm in case it had recovered enough to contest the hold. Then she ratcheted up the vice around his neck. She threatened him with her right fist, making as if to punch his face. From her angle she could still watch his face, and was gratified to see its expression of terror at the prospect of her fist landing on it. The joke was it never did.

No, she had something worse in store for him. She moved onto her back, hauling him into an equally ugly position, with his backside sticking out. As before, she held his near arm, which was now the left one. While Oscar hated and feared the scissor, what she did with her right hand inflicted both pain and dread on him. She tormented his cock through its mesh cage. The occasional sensation of skin on skin sent the blood pumping into it, driving it fast against the harsh metal of its prison, making him howl with pain and trepidation. When she squeezed his balls, the howl turned into a roar.

Fun though that had been for her, she now opted for a little self-indulgence with a reverse head scissor, at a slight angle. Oscar still had his obsession with forcing her off him, and the only thing he could lay his hands on was her pliant, round bottom – which sent the blood coursing into his manhood once more.

"That’s right, squeeze my arse!" Donna told him. "You know I love it!" (Which was true enough.)

She moved so that she lay directly over him, brushing the chastity cage with her breasts and pushing her sex against his face, until she could look down at his cock. Then she did a sort of push up, grinding herself against him.

"It’s a good job you have your cage on," she told him, to subdued sounds of disagreement. "Otherwise, we’d well and truly have crossed the boundary between wrestling and foreplay. I mean, I’d love to take it off right now and start playing with your cock" – "Ooooommmfffffaaaahhhh" Oscar replied, feeling still more pain within the cage – "but I must be professional." (Some would dispute that she was already being that.)

Chuckling to herself, Donna rolled over again, taking him with her so that his face pushed into the mat and she stretched out in front of him, still in the push up position. Did ever anyone manage to wring so many variations out of a head scissor?

She had deprived Oscar of enough oxygen for so long that she felt him go limp, so she knelt behind him and put him in a recovery position of sorts. Once he had a bit of life back, she clawed his face again, literally to sting him into fully recovering. When he swore, she judged he was better again, so she put him in an octopus.

Kneeling behind and to the side of him on her right knee, she locked his right arm up and behind him in the crook of her left arm. Her left leg hooked him over his left shoulder, half-scissoring his tender neck and pulling his body back into her.

But she was unpredictable. While she had spent a deal of time alternating head scissors, she quickly relinquished the octopus and opted for an armbar. Lying on her back to the side of him, she heaved his right arm through her thighs until it felt as if someone had injected molten lava into his shoulder joint. With both hands clutching his forearm and wrist, she twisted his arm each way to add to the extreme discomfort, all the time wearing a gentle smile.

Now she turned to his other arm. While she knelt on her left knee, it felt to Oscar as if she was extracting his arm from the shoulder joint when she heaved it behind him, then linked her arms to secure it. Moving her body a little, she made him move with her to try to reduce the pain (or prevent her breaking his arm). His shouts echoed throughout the warehouse.

Squatting behind him and forcing him onto his knees, she returned to his right arm. She yanked it behind him and against her right breast, though it’s doubtful if he even noticed by this stage. He just wanted the whole thing to stop. But the more he yelled his protests and entreaties, the more it entertained her.

Perhaps the reason she spent so little time earlier on the octopus hold earlier was that she had it in mind to return to later. This time, it was in a different style. She jumped on him from behind, at the same time seizing his right arm in both hands and locking it behind him so that his hand rested alongside her face. He was forced to bear the weight of both of them, because her left leg scissored his neck in its crook, bending it painfully on its side. When he threatened to topple to his side, he was able to steady them both with his left hand on the mat, but the strain on his whole body was intense.

Meanwhile, Donna increased her pressure on his arm and his neck. Oscar’s body creaked and complained, from his ankles to his head. He would hate to admit it to himself, but it was a relief when his girlfriend lifted him into the air and onto her right shoulder, one hand between his legs, the other holding his neck.

A relief, that is, until she slammed him onto his back. She scarcely gave him time to absorb the impact before she pulled him up by his wrists until he was on his knees. He had a dreaded sense of what was coming next, and he was right – a standing head scissor.

After all that he had endured, that was too much. Oh, she may be smiling, but at what point does victory turn into sadism? Thankfully for him, she felt him go limp for the second time, as his physical wellbeing temporarily collapsed. She briefly celebrated, flexing while maintaining the scissor, then allowed him to drop down onto the mat, whereupon she celebrated and flexed again, standing over him.

*****

Donna won her upcoming match, after which she was qualified to instruct men and women in all forms of martial arts. As she admitted to Oscar the next weekend, just before he started guzzling, boozing and watching the football, her practice with him had been crucial.