“You know,” Rosie mused one evening, as they watched two wrestlers, “it’s a pity they don’t allow mixed wrestling here. I’d love to take you on.”

“Really?” Jeff replied, trying not to sound excited by the idea.

“Oh, yes! We’re pretty evenly matched in other things, and I think I could fare well against you.”

“Hmm,” he sounded doubtful. “Anyway, it’s just a pipe dream, because we’d be barred from the gym, and possibly lose our jobs.”

“I know a gym which allows mixed matches,” she continued. “For a small fee, they’d let us hire the ring, and no one need be any the wiser. So, are you up for it?”

“Oh, all right,” he feigned reluctance, secretly relishing the prospect of “getting to grips” with her well-toned body.

*****

“You never told me the man had to be naked,” Jeff complained, as they entered the ring.

“Didn’t I?” Rosie asked with false innocence. “Never mind, we’re here now. Come on, do some posing for me, show me what I’ll be working with!”

“Here we go then,” he agreed, mollified. “You’ll never see muscles like these!”

It was certainly impressive (if you like that sort of thing), and he flexed in front of his admiring female opponent.

But she didn’t look so bad, herself. Being blonde, her sky-blue leotard, with matching boots and ribbon tying her hair, suited her perfectly. Leaning in her corner, she exuded subtle female strength. Her leotard was sleeveless, and it was obvious from her arms and shoulders that she trained with weights. Her legs also had firm thigh muscles, warning Jeff that he should avoid being scissored by her.

When they met in the middle, their customary friendliness evaporated. They stared at each other, before Jeff smiled and asked:

“Think you can fight in the big boys’ league, do you?”

Rosie glared and said nothing, then sprang at him, aiming low. He slipped out of the way, positioned himself behind her as she followed through, and wrapped his brawny left arm around her neck.

“I won’t go easy on you, just because you’re a girl,” he murmured in her ear as he tightened the headlock, while she tried ineffectually to free herself.

He was right, and a referee would have stopped the fight as his hold crossed the border into dangerous. Rosie, with her mouth open, was struggling to breathe. He worked her first down onto her knees, then onto her side, and finally onto her front, using the hold.

She was where he wanted her, so he put her in a camel clutch. Squatting over her, so he sat on the small of her back, he placed his hands under her chin and pulled her upper body up, while pushing down on the small of her back. Rosie knew the hold well, having used it many times on female opponents, sometimes earning a submission from it. She knew what to expect, recalling the cries of pain and moans from her previous victims. Sure enough, pain burnt its way in darts up her spine to her neck and shoulders, then round to her ribs and stomach.

Rosie would have nodded her approval if she had seen Jeff’s version of a Boston crab, rather than being on the receiving end of it. Facing the same way as her, he had her ankles hooked inside his arms, yanking her legs forwards and upwards, while he sat just below her shoulders, pushing down. He was now inflicting pain from her heels to her neck.

Suddenly, Jeff dropped down, taking Rosie with him by locking her left arm inside his left arm, and her right arm inside his left leg. In this double arm lock, he managed to drum her down so she landed heavily on her shoulders. He proceeded to leaver both her arms at unnatural angles from the elbows, earning himself shrieks of pain from her.

Forcing her onto her front, he banged himself down hard, once more sitting on the small of her back. Scooping both her legs in the crook of his left arm and dragging them so they formed a loop above her, he caused them as much pain as the Boston crab had earlier.

Up to this point, Jeff had been brutal but clean in his tactics. But now he broke a couple of taboos. Lying behind her so they were both on their sides, he hooked his right leg over her right, so that her muscular bottom was wedged tightly against his manhood. As if this wasn’t enough, his right hand grabbed her lovely, large right breast. No wonder he was smiling!

“Enjoy that, did you?” he murmured in her ear as he knelt behind her, trapping her arms behind her back in a type of full Nelson. She said nothing, but the look on her face would have told him, “No”.

Jeff turned to another strange hold. Placing Rosie across him, he put her in a sort of double leg lock, securing her left leg in the crook of his left arm, and her right leg in the crook of his left leg. With his free, right hand, he proceeded to stroke and feel her sex.

“You dirty bastard!” Rosie hissed.

“I know!” he leered back at her, “I love it!”

She tried to take his hand away with her near, right hand, but was distracted by the pain in her legs. So she tried another tactic. She started to moan and sigh, to encourage him. To encourage him to lose concentration, too.

When she judged Jeff was drunk with lust, she saw her chance and suddenly clawed his face. He yelled in pain, losing his hold on her as her bright red nails went to work. Kneeling beside him, she exerted revenge for all his unsolicited groping. Now he was the one desperately trying to free himself.

When Rosie desisted, she pulled him up to his knees, and wrapped her arms around his face from behind in a sleeper. Realising that he was still stunned by the abrupt change of fortunes, she needed to strike fast before he recovered. Kneeling on her right knee, she pushed her left between his left arm and shoulder, and heaved on his already injured face. Muffled incomprehensible sounds came from under her hand over his mouth, while her other hand held him under the chin, just in case he was a dirty enough fighter to try and bite. (She imagined he was.)

Keeping her hands around his face, Rosie pulled him back and up, while digging her knees into his back. She pushed him forward with her knees, as he had done to her earlier, in a type of camel clutch.

Dragging him back further, both hands now under his chin, she sat on the canvas. Placing her feet on his calves, she once more pushed her knees into the small of his back in a cavernaria. Revenge is sweet! She now meted out the same pain that he had on her, along the full extent of his body.

She returned to a camel clutch, a conventional one this time, where she sat on the small of his back. Once again, she was doing to him what he did to her, inflicting misery on him via his neck, spine, ribs and stomach.

Jeff really should have avoided her thighs. Too late! Having weakened him, Rosie now put him in a front head scissor. Placing her feet on the canvas, she forced the prone man’s neck into her thighs. Grabbing him by the hair, she pulled him up, while her muscular buttocks over his shoulders pushed back down. All the while, her thigh muscles rippled as she inexorably tightened the clamp around his neck. She smiled, noting with pleasure that while she equalled him in the holds they had both put each other through, he couldn’t hope to match her when it came to scissors.

Keeping the scissor going, she worked him to his knees with it. Seizing his near, right arm, in case he got any ideas of counterattacking, she tugged him about with her thighs, restricting his breathing as he had earlier to her with his headlock. All the while, she pulled his hair for good measure.

Rosie switched to a more comfortable position (for her, at any rate), sitting on the canvas across him, with her crossed legs still doling out agony on his neck. He once more lay prone.

Feeling him go limp as he passed out, she stood up. Standing behind him, she watched while he regained consciousness. Groaning, he slowly got up and seemed to make his way to the nearest ropes. She wasn’t having that. She stealthily caught up with him and kicked him in the balls from behind. Jeff went rigid in agony, before letting out a roar of pain.

What started off as formal wrestling had degenerated into a brawl. Jeff was the first to “break the rules”; now Rosie ensured there was no going back – in more ways than one, because they certainly wouldn’t be able to work together after this, either.

She jumped on his back and brought him down hard on his face against the canvas. He arched his back, trying to throw her off. But she had a hold of his wrists and worked her way up his back, until she knelt, straddling his neck in another scissor. For good measure, she locked his arms forward too.

Modifying the hold, she sandwiched his arms between her calves and thighs in either leg, while still kneeling astride his neck. To torment him further, she pulled and squeezed his ears, laughing at his shouts of pain.

Lying on his back, Rosie hooked her legs under his legs and put his head in a sleeper. She was still laughing, this time at his stifled groans and complaints. She used the hold to take him with her as she sat on the canvas behind him, then dropped onto her back.

Any chance of the sleeper actually sending him to sleep was scotched by her rubbing his defeat boner with her left boot. (Well, fair enough, considering the way he had groped her earlier.) With her arms wrapped around his face and neck, she felt him tense as soon as her foot went to work.

Up and down she rubbed it, in what had become a series of entertainments for her. She gave a little cheer when Jeff shuddered and shouted with his orgasm. To add to the hilarity (for her, at any rate) she pointed his cock with her boot, so his face got splashed with his semen. More importantly, they both knew he wouldn’t be able to fight after climaxing, and it marked the end of the bout.

Rosie stood over the beaten man with one foot on his face, and flexed in triumph. Jeff lay under that foot, his face a revolting mess, feeling utterly ashamed at his defeat. This was compounded when Rosie paraphrased his earlier question:

“Thought you could fight in the big girls’ league, did you?”