"Heyy," the woman said, slurring the word and stumbling to her side. She was obviously drunk, smelling strongly of whisky.

"Good evening," Steve said politely, scanning the girl with his eyes. She was average height, fit, and very attractive.

"Want a shot?" the girl asked, pulling a small bottle of whisky out from her handbag.

"I’ll pass," Steve said politely, wondering where this girl was even headed. She hadn’t clicked a button to indicate which floor she wanted.

"Are you sure?" the girl asked, unscrewing the top and taking a small swig.

Steve took another look at the girl, this time taking in her full beauty. She had firm breasts, a cute, playful face, long legs, brown hair, and overall a stunning body.

"How about a drink up in my place?" Steve asked, pointing at the only button that was lit. "I’m on the top floor."

"Penthouse," the girl said with a grin. "Nice." She tucked the bottle of whisky back in her bag, and stuck out her hand. "I’m Sarah."

Steve shook hands and introduced himself, and when the lift reached the top floor, they made their way into the suite. They walked almost magnetically over to the ceiling to floor window that overlooked the city.

"It’s breathtaking," Sarah said in awe. "I’ve never seen the city from this view before."

"It’s even better with a cocktail," Steve said with a grin. He went into the kitchen, and returned a minute later, a drink in each hand.

Before the cocktails were even halfway finished, the two were locked in a tight embrace, kissing passionately and groping one another like long lost lovers. They left a trail of clothes on their way to the bedroom. The only piece of clothing still on Sarah was a black long sleeve bodysuit. Cut high over her hips, it showed off her long legs.

Totally naked, Steve scooped Sarah up in his arms, tossed her softly on the bed, then collapsed on top of her.

"Where are your condoms?" Sarah asked quickly, breathing hard, as if she had just finished an intense workout.

"There," answered Steve, nodding his head to the side. "Top drawer."

"Good," Sarah said, grabbing his head and kissing him passionately. Then she wrapped her legs around his waist, twisted with all her weight, and rolled him onto his back. Bending down, she carried on kissing him while pressing her body hard against him.

"Close your eyes," she whispered seductively, "I have a surprise for you."

Steve obeyed, relaxing his body. Sarah continued to kiss him, while grabbing his hand and holding it against her breasts.

"Kiss my neck," she whispered, still pressing against him.

Steve obliged, but a moment later he felt a leather strap tug around his neck. He opened his eyes, but Sarah’s face was against his. She smiled, then kissed him passionately. He felt her hands around his neck, but didn’t really care, devoured as he was by desire.

"Click."

The sound of metal clicking into metal was loud, but even more startling was Sarah’s abrupt change in attitude, not least that she was suddenly sober (as she had been all along). She pulled away from him, now straddling his waist, and smiled.

"Sorry, it’s just business," she told him, without meaning the apology.

"What?" Steve asked, raising his arms and touching whatever was wrapped around his neck. He felt a strong leather band with a metal clasp, which was attached by a chain to the bedframe. He tugged at it, to no avail.

"What’s going on?" he demanded, suddenly very worried.

"Nothing," Sarah lied. "Just lie tight, I’ll be right back," she told him, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

Steve swore, and struggled to free himself, but the contraption was too strong, too well-made for human hands to break it. He gave up struggling and thought about everything Sarah – if that was her real name – was going to rob him of. His phone, wallet, computer, tablet, camera, and a dozen other things were scattered around the hotel suite. She could rob him blind in a matter of minutes.

Desperately he pulled at the leather strap again, but it was useless. He scanned his surroundings, then almost shouted in triumph as he saw his nail clippers on the bedside table. After some difficulty, he managed to grab them, then quickly began to cut away the leather strap. Within a minute he was free, and he immediately stormed out of the room in search of Sarah. He found her in the kitchen, loading expensive bottles of wine into his suitcase.

"Steve!" she uttered in shock when she saw him. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I was just…" But she didn’t finish. Steve only had to look around to discover all his most valuable possessions hurriedly packed in a bag, ready for a quick getaway.

"You bitch," he growled, retrieving his phone, "I’m calling security."

"You’re not," Sarah retorted, attempting to snatch the phone.

"I bloody am!" he replied, running away with it.

Sarah gave chase, and gained on him – no mean achievement for someone in stiletto-heeled boots. She caught up with him in a utility room, and he turned to face her, attempting to dial with one hand. She leapt at him, but he held his ground and overpowered her, forcing her onto her back.

But she was strong and resourceful, and he was preoccupied with dialling one-handed. He placed her, as he thought, out of harm’s way above him and facing away from him, but she continued to struggle. He roughly grabbed her right breast to still her; she escaped, spun round so that she was behind him, and put him in a headlock.

Kneeling behind him, she had both arms entrapping his neck and head, so it became more of a choke hold. She brought the two of them to their feet, still choking him from behind. But Steve surprised her, by suddenly dropping down to one knee. She involuntarily relaxed her grip on his head; he seized her right arm and flipped her over his shoulder, and she crashed down hard on the floor.

"Enough," said Steve, "I’m calling security."

"I can’t let you do that," Sarah told him, quickly getting to her feet, and surprising him by her quick recovery after being slammed.

"Give me the phone," Sarah said, reaching out her right hand.

"Are you nuts?" Steve asked, taking a step backwards. "You’re going to jail."

Without thinking Sarah ran straight at him, panic urging her on. She leapt into the air, banging her left knee into his chest. Steve gasped, feeling as if his chest was on fire, and she fastened her left arm around his neck, choking him once more.

"Fuck!" Steve grimaced, squealing in anger. "You don’t fucking give up, do you?" He pulled her arm as hard as he could, but was surprised to find that he couldn’t pry it from his neck. Worse, he felt her tighten, squeezing him even harder. He then tried pulling away from her, to slide his head out of her grip, but she stretched out her body, and lowered her centre of gravity, forcing him to the floor, where she lay across him, her python-like arms locked around his neck.

Steve made a tremendous effort, and caught Sarah by surprise, rising to his knees. She fought stubbornly to maintain her hold on his neck, but his unexpected move had wrongfooted her. On the other hand, her hold had weakened him, and his last effort to get to his knees exhausted his energy. She accepted the setback, and slid easily underneath him on her back, then snapped her thighs shut over his neck.

If Steve thought her arms were strong, her legs were in another league! Forcing his face into her crotch, the head scissor might have looked more like something out of the Karma Sutra rather than a wrestling manual – but then, sometimes the boundary has been blurred when it comes to mixed wrestling.

Steve tried to pull his head free but couldn’t. Her legs were like iron rods welded together. He pulled at them with all his strength, but they wouldn’t budge. He was sweating now, struggling to breathe. Worry swept through him, wondering if he was actually going to lose this confrontation. Would she choke him unconscious? Would she kill him? His adrenalin was pumping, and he was fighting back as hard as he could, but it was futile. He yelped as she grabbed his balls in revenge for his earlier rough handling of her breast.

Sarah relaxed a bit, taking slow, careful breaths. She kept her legs locked tightly around Steve’s head, but she lay her head back on the carpet. She had Steve on all fours, with his face right up against her sex, and demanded that he give up.

"Fuck you!" Steve snarled, his anger boiling. For the second time, he surprised her (and himself). He planted his feet firmly on the floor, made a superhuman effort, managed to half stand, and lifted her a few feet off the floor by her thighs.

"No!" Sarah screamed, squeezing her legs as hard as she could.

Steve ignored her. He braced himself, stood fully this time, lifting her higher in the air. Then he dropped her with all his strength back down on the carpet. She screamed "No!" again, but as her legs were still entwined around his neck, he brought them both back up, took a deep breath, and power drilled her down onto the floor, smashing her back against the carpet. Involuntarily her legs opened, and his head slid free of the hold. Without skipping a beat, he climbed onto her body, straddled her chest and grabbed both her arms, pinning them flat against the floor. He glared down at her, triumph in his eyes.

For a minute Steve did nothing. He simply pinned her flat to the floor, breathing hard from the intense struggle. But then he began to recover, his breathing returning to normal.

"You’re going to jail for this," he said, to break the silence.

At his words, Sarah began to struggle, trying desperately to free herself, but he pressed his weight into her, keeping her pinned helplessly.

"Just let me go," Sarah said, worry creeping into her voice. "Please, I haven’t taken anything."

"Oh, yeah, Steve said, looking back down at her. "You weren’t going to rob me blind! I’ll see to it that you serve hard time. Assault and robbery. I have a very good lawyer, and he’s going to throw the book at you!"

Sarah looked left and right, scanning the room for some way out of this. But Steve’s weight was pressed down onto her. She tried squirming away, but couldn’t move. Her life flashed before her. She knew how right Steve was, the type of lawyer he could afford. She would be arrested, probably have to serve time, and have a criminal record for the rest of her life.

"No!" she screamed for the third time. She planted her feet on the floor, and bucked her hips wildly in the air. Steve was momentarily unbalanced, but easily stayed on top of her. She continued to fight back, raising her legs off the floor, stretching them as high as she could, and just managing to hook her right leg around his neck.

"Fuck," Steve said, trying to lower his head, and uncurl her leg off him. But she pulled her leg backwards, forcing the back of her heel tight against his throat.

"It’s not over," Sarah said to herself, desperately pulling Steve off her. She used all her strength to press against his neck, slowly moving him inch by inch. But once she forced him backwards, and he was forced to arch his back, momentum kicked in and she flipped her body round, trapping his neck once more between her thighs. Lying behind him, both of them on their backs, she closed her thighs around his head, crossed her ankles, and squeezed.

Sarah held him tightly between her legs. Steve tried to fight back, but he had no leverage. It had been a roller coaster of a night, but now she had him. She had won, she could feel it.

"Sarah," Steve murmured, barely able to breathe, with her legs squeezing so hard, "I can’t breathe."

"Ask your lawyer for help," she retorted, giving her legs a tighter squeeze. "Have him throw the book at me."

For several minutes, she maintained the hold, squeezing his head, draining the energy out of him.

"You’re not escaping," she told him triumphantly. "Not again," she concluded, cranking the pressure up a couple of notches.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Steve whimpered, struggling helplessly. She swivelled round to face him, and grabbed both of his wrists, all the while keeping the head scissor going. Then she lay across him, and yanked his left arm through her thighs and into an armbar, to add to his discomfort.

Steve couldn’t believe how strong this girl was. For a few moments, they played a game of cat and mouse. He would stop struggling, she would relax the hold a bit; he’d try to escape, and she’d remind him who held all the aces. But even when she relented a bit, her long, tapering, supple thighs still remained clamped around his neck.

There was an element of sadism to Sarah. At last switching holds, or at least changing to a different style of head scissor, she flipped round so that Steve’s head now poked through her thighs from the front. It made him look like a hunchback, made more grotesque by her pulling both his arms back towards her, and twisting his left arm, for good measure.

But soon tiring of this, she opted to lie in the opposite direction to Steve, while (naturally) preserving the scissor. She kept a hold of his right arm, while his left was out of range to do any damage, and with her free hand, she mauled his cock and balls. Steve grimaced, moaned, whimpered, and cried out, depending on what she did with her hand, and how hard she did it. Yes, there was definitely a streak of sadism to Sarah, for she smiled as her "handiwork" alternated between distress and agony for Steve.

When she finally desisted, Steve was suffering too much to take advantage, and just lay protectively on his front, quietly moaning, while she fetched something from her bag. He wasn’t even interested what it was – at first. But he was once she grabbed his wrists behind his back, and he felt cold, inhuman metal clasp and click around them. What was her game? Robbery was one thing, but – this?

She pulled him up partially and – it seemed an age since she’d done this – placed her arms around his neck from behind, in a rear naked choke. She got him to his knees like this, kneeling behind him, then to his feet. Then she staggered him out of the utility room and back into the bedroom. There, she sat him down with his back propped against the bed, and manacled his ankles to the bedframe. After that she knelt down, stroked him under the chin, and mocked,

"No escaping this time."

"You’re not getting away with this," Steve snarled, "Security, police, they will find you."

"And what are you going to tell them?" she responded, coldly. "That a girl wrestled you to the ground, and you were so incapable of defending yourself against her, that she was able to march you into the bedroom, and tie you to the bed?"

"That’s true," he replied glumly, blushing. Then he brightened up, becoming defiant again, and he thought a little subtle threat would be enough. "But there are other avenues I can follow. I’m a man of means. I have resources, and I know people that know other people. All it would take would be a phone call…"

Sarah said nothing, but walked away from him, seeming to exaggerate the sound of her stiletto heels on the hard floor, and retrieved the phone. Smiling evilly, she stood between his legs, pinched his nose, and placed one gleaming, black lady’s boot on his balls, while appearing to take pictures with the phone. Once more, she was inflicting intense pain on him. Then she turned away and did the same to his balls with her stiletto heel, making Steve yell.

"Ah, do you miss the feel of my thighs and the leather of my boots on your neck?" she asked cruelly, "Okay then!"

"Click, click" went her boots as she walked parallel to Steve, turned to face the same way, and placed him in a standing head scissor, still seeming to take pictures on the phone.

"You should take greater care of your phone, and you should certainly password lock it. You never know when a girl is going to overpower you (repeatedly), lock you to the bed, and take pictures of you in a dozen humiliating positions, and then post them across all your social media. I imagine these ‘people’ that you know are contacts on it."

Steve froze, unable to believe what he just heard.

"No, don’t!"

But Sarah ignored his protest, and carried on squeezing with her beautiful, fearsome thighs, occasionally prodding his balls with a stiletto heel. At length, she sighed, sat on the bed, and locked her ankles in front of him, so her calves did the job of the scissor. Once she got comfortable (and Steve decidedly uncomfortable) she got the phone again, and happily started to take further pictures.

Suddenly seeming impatient with this, she swung off the bed, unlocked Steve’s manacles, and forced him down onto the bed. She lay across him on her side, and – he guessed it – sandwiched his neck between her upper thighs. She pulled his head up until it could go no further. Smiling, she then turned her attention to the camera, holding it very close to her sex and his face.

Going for the maximum number of poses, she next lay him along the bed, and knelt over his mouth.

"You can’t do this!" Steve murmured, struggling to speak as Sarah’s full weight pressed down onto him. Please, I’ll do anything."

Sarah paused, considering his offer. She shifted her weight, grabbed Steve’s head, and forced him to look straight up.

"Anything?" she asked, "Make me an offer."

Steve tried speaking, but his voice was muffled by her weight on top of him.

"Speak up," Sarah said playfully, bouncing up and down. Steve waited for an "up" and told her:

"I’ll give you five thousand dollars to leave now, and I promise not to call the police or anything."

"Five thousand?" she laughed, this time keeping her sex against his mouth, "Try again, and meanwhile you’d better start licking."

Steve did as he was told. As he was occupied, Sarah spoke:

"I want fifty thousand dollars now, and I promise not to post the pictures online for one year. Then you can pay me another fifty thousand to secure another year of shame-free pictures on the web."

"Are you cra…" But before Steve could finish, she lowered the phone into his line of vision. His face was clearly visible, though obscured by two thigh tops either side of it. She swiped, and he saw his face up against the same, but with long thigh-length ladies’ boots stretching out in the background.

"Where should I send the pictures first?" she asked, notching up the pressure psychologically, just as she had been physically. "Your parents? Friends? Social media?"

She climbed off him and showed him more random pictures, each one a personal disaster for him.

"Fifty thousand. Now," she told him icily, sitting on his waist. "I’ll count from 5. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1."

"Okay, okay!" Steve cried, shaking and sweating. Go to my banking app, and make out the payment."

"What’s your password?" she demanded.

Steve hesitated, so she punched his face.

Despairingly he told her. That done, with fifty thousand dollars going into her account in a matter of minutes, Sarah got up briskly, taking her "possessions" with her.