by L J K Cross
“What is he up to in there?” wondered Amanda. He had been in there for over ten minutes, knocking things into the sink, banging against the wall and doing a lot of grunting and puffing.
“Are you alright in there Mervyn?” called out Amanda.
“Yes Ma’am. I’ll be out in a minute Ma’am,” he replied and then proceeded to drop something heavy on the floor.
Mervyn emerged from the bathroom, sans spectacles, in a pair of very tight metallic gold posing trunks that had been custom made for him. Amanda’s very own superman. Well, maybe, if she squinted hard enough.
“There you are. Look at you. You look so sexy,” swooned Amanda and instantly Mervyn puffed out his chest with pride. He looked so pleased with himself that Amanda couldn’t help but wonder how often he had ever been complimented. Amanda could imagine that he was overlooked and ignored everywhere he went. Why was it that genuinely nice and gentle people were forever stepped over or stepped on? That being shy or sweet natured was perceived as a sign of weakness? The world was such a cruel place, reflected Amanda.
Amanda took Mervyn’s hand, that wasn’t shaking quite as uncontrollably as before, and guided him to the edge of the bed to take his front row seat. Amanda stood in front of him, her huge silhouette already casting him into complete shadow.
“Y-you look so beautiful Ma’am. I just love your b-b-big muscles Ma’am,” enthused Mervyn.
Amanda gently placed her finger on his lips. He obeyed instantly. Amanda hadn’t even begun to tense and flex yet!
“Are you ready for all these muscles, Mervyn?” teased Amanda.
“Oh yes Ma’am. I’m so ready Ma’am. You are so wonderful Ma’am.” Amanda raised her eyebrows at him and he complied instantly. He looked just like a naughty schoolboy, sitting on his hands, to try and stop himself from touching. Just like a naughty schoolboy he couldn’t help himself.
With one deep breath, Amanda flared her muscles out to their mesmerising max. Her thighs thundered. Her biceps boomed. Her lats lengthened. The tight red mini dress she was wearing appeared to shrink to half its size as it was swallowed up by her voluminous mass. Mervyn looked at her as if seeing her for the first time: his face a portrait of incredulity, shock and disbelief. Incredulity that the woman of his dreams was standing before him, literally inches away. Shock that any woman, especially one as beautiful as Amanda Hearst, could carry so much muscle. Disbelief that any moment now he might be privileged enough to be able to actually touch some of that magnificent muscle. Amanda’s flexed bicep was level with his eyes. Mervyn studied it in detail; its round fullness, the fat veins that coursed across it, the way it pulsed and throbbed as if it had a mind of its own. He was enthralled.
“Would you like to feel it Mervyn?” invited Amanda. He looked up at her gratefully and blinked for the first time since Amanda had started posing.
“Oh yes p-please Ma’am,” replied Mervyn earnestly and yet he remained cautious and restrained. He slowly reached out and gingerly placed his clammy hand on the peak of her bicep as if mindful of danger, as if worried that he would be scalded by her searing hotness. It wasn’t long though before his own burning passions were fuelled and all thought of control was forgotten. Amanda let his hot, horny hands wander libidinously. He squeezed and stroked her rock hard biceps. His hands skirted up and down her thunderous thighs. He massaged the wide expanse of her back. He fondled her lusciously large breasts, tracing the outline of her strained dress and toying with her hard nipples that protruded through the skintight fabric and seemingly forgot about everything else.
The already strained straps of her dress submitted and slipped down her shoulders, revealing even more tantalisingly tanned skin. Mervyn’s eyes widened with greed. His hands shook with anticipation.
“Could you help me out of my dress?” asked Amanda innocently but the look she gave him was anything but innocent. It demanded Mervyn to be bold and daring. He took his opportunity. As he helped Amanda free her massive frame out of the constraining fabric, he brazenly allowed his hand to explore every illicit contour of her body. The recklessness of such audacity coursed like an electric shock through his body, stimulating every part of him. He was swollen with excitement. He throbbed with every racing heartbeat. He stood rigid and erect, ready to tip over the edge at her very command.
Amanda took a step back so Mervyn could take all of her in. The gold micro bikini she was wearing left very little to the imagination. From the growing strain in Mervyn’s posing trunks it was glaringly obvious that his imagination had gone into overdrive. Amanda delighted in his reaction and flared her muscles out to their full glory.
“So,” she asked coyly, “do you think that I have grown since last time you saw me?”
“I think you have Ma’am. You look so b-b-big Ma’am,” marvelled Mervyn.
“Well would you like to find out?” teased Amanda.
“Could I Ma’am?” asked Mervyn, not quite believing his luck.
Amanda knew that Mervyn always carried a tape measure and notebook with him to sessions so he could meticulously document the progress of his favourite female body builders. He approached the task with the utmost care and precision. He took his study extremely seriously. Amanda flexed her right bicep, ready for inspection. Mervyn laboriously placed the tape measure around her boulder of a bicep, making sure it rested precisely on the pinnacle of the peak. He took the measurement a second and then a third time to make sure his readings were accurately consistent. Amanda waited patiently; flexed and slightly amused at the whole procedure.
“Seventeen inches,” Mervyn noted down. “T-they have g-grown half an inch since last time,” he observed excitedly.
“Ooh half an inch,” encouraged Amanda. “Do you want to measure my chest next?”
“Yes p-lease.” Mervyn didn’t need asking. He was already trying to fit the tape across the expanse of Amanda’s enormous back.
“I am surprised your tape measure is big enough,” added Amanda flirtatiously but Mervyn seemed not to hear. All his concentration was fixed on her chest and getting the measurements just right.
“ Forty eight inches,” gasped Mervyn. “Two whole inches bigger than last time,” he remarked with a mixture of admiration and astonishment.
“I told you I have been focusing on my bench press. I told you I wanted to make my chest bigger so there would be even more for you to play with,” grinned Amanda mischievously. Mervyn was at a loss as to how to reply. He had probably never been flirted with in his life. All he could manage was a timorous “thank you Ma’am” and continued with his study, impervious to any distractions until all measurements had been thoroughly undertaken. He would not be able to rest until his records were up to date and complete.
“So Mervyn, would you say you are suitably impressed?” asked Amanda, already knowing his answer. She had never seen someone so engrossed, so fascinated with their work. When he had been taking her measurements, it was the only time since he had entered the room that his hands had stopped shaking. Now as Amanda held his hand and led him over to stand in front of the full-length mirror, it resumed trembling.
“Y-you are so amazing Ma’am. I just l-love your b-big muscles Ma’am. You…” but he stopped mid gush, shocked into silence by the crazy contradiction of their two reflections in the mirror. Even though Amanda stood behind she still managed to eclipse and overawe with her sheer mass. The contrast between the two physiques was so stark they weren’t even comparable and yet Amanda knew that Mervyn loved nothing more than to pose down with her. Mervyn loved the difference. He loved to be reminded of it. How ironic that someone as puny as him was not intimidated in the least by Amanda’s muscles and yet many so called macho men in the gym simply couldn’t handle it.
Amanda stepped out from behind him and threw her arms up into a double bicep pose. Mervyn copied. His biceps didn’t even seem to be as big as her forearms as they struggled to poke through his opaquely white skin. Amanda swirled to the left and dropped down into a side chest pose. Mer
vyn did the same. Amanda thought his legs were going to snap in two they looked so fragile in comparison to hers. And yet despite the disparity, Mervyn held his own posing. It was obvious that he had spent many hours pouring over images of female body builders, scrutinising their physiques in fine detail. He truly was a connoisseur in his field.
Amanda checked the time. They only had ten minutes left before Mervyn’s time was up and Amanda wasn’t ready to let him leave yet. She was enjoying herself too much and they hadn’t even got to her favourite part yet. She knew it was Mervyn’s favourite moment too. The culmination of his adulation. The moment she reclined on the bed, a divine offering laid upon the altar of worship. Mervyn took his lotion out of his bag, ready to anoint her celestial body. Amanda rolled onto her front knowing that Mervyn preferred solitude as he paid his homage. She felt him genuflect at her side as if in prayer. Mervyn’s hands slid serenely over Amanda’s soft, supple skin. Every inch of her body, every enticing muscle and lascivious limb was attended to but Mervyn’s touch remained purely reverential. His hands glided down her tensed abs but only allowed the tips of his fingers to invade the top of her bikini bottoms. He rubbed hard and deep along the inside of her powerful thighs but always managed to stop short of touching her most coveted parts. It was an act beyond sexual. Sex would have sullied the sanctity of the moment. It would have tainted a moment of rapture for them both. Amanda could never have imagined that such intimacy, at once so sensual and yet so platonic, could summon such exhilaration. It was stimulatingly tantric.
Amanda’s phone bleeped and alerted her that the session time was up. Amanda was content in her meditative bliss. She felt so relaxed and tranquil that she could hardly lift her head off the bed. Her whole body felt heavy. Her spirit transposed. She could see Mervyn out of the corner of her eye, dressing and packing up his bag, compliant and utterly respectful to the very last. He never tried to stay longer, he was more than grateful for the hour he had spent in her presence. He never deviated from his own self-imposed limits. His worship was purely orthodox, practised and devout.
“Thank you Ma’am. I had a wonderful time. Take care,” urged Mervyn. It was now Amanda’s turn to look at him incredulously. It was as if she was speaking to a totally different person. He no longer stuttered and instead spoke clearly and confidently. As he walked out of the room he strode with pride and purpose. A man invigorated by the accomplishment of his most primal carnal desires. A man strengthened by his chosen faith to face the world and all its cruel, hypocritical injustices and lies.
CHAPTER 12
Amanda continued to lie on the bed for a good 15 minutes after Mervyn had left. Dazed and a little confused, she rewound and replayed the last hour in her head and still was not able to fully comprehend how someone so wildly fanatical in their love of female muscle could remain so controlled when presented with a golden opportunity to let their fantasies run rampant, without restrain. It was almost as if his worship was so devout that to reduce it to mere sexual gratification would be demeaning. In Mervyn’s mind it could even be considered sacrilegious.
It was probably a good job then that Mervyn hadn’t hung around to see what she was likely to get up to in her next session. If Amanda’s previous dalliances as a dominatrix were anything to go by then sacrilegious just about summed them up. From the moment Amanda donned her dominatrix gear she was transformed. From that moment on there were no limits and even if her dominance proved to be too powerful, or even too painful, then there was very little they could do about it anyway. In the hands of such a Mistress, they had no choice but to acquiesce to her malicious and magnificently malevolent muscles.
Amanda wondered how Mervyn would react if he encountered her dominatrix side? Even if his fantasies had fleetingly envisioned such dark taboos, Amanda was pretty sure that to be confronted with the harsh reality would scare Mervyn to the point that he would never be able to summon the nerve to indulge his fantasies again. Lying there, it occurred to Amanda just how different each muscle infatuation was. How each had their own reason for liking female muscle and each had their limits as to how much female muscle they could handle. Amanda was pretty sure that she had tasted most flavours of female muscle fascination. Nowadays there was very little left that could shock her. She was always open minded, open to suggestion and open to experiment. Open, out there and overt was Amanda’s personal mantra. She just wished others had the courage to be the same and not be cowed into compliance for fear of judgement by others.
At the mention of compliance and fear, Amanda’s thoughts turned to her next session. The next fan would be sure to experience both. Over the past weeks he had sent Amanda a number of explicitly detailed emails describing in no uncertain terms his desire to submit to the masochism of her muscles. The extremity of his disposition to pain and humiliating subservience had even made Amanda wince. She just hoped he had sufficiently explored his resolve for such an experience. Sometimes you had to be careful what you wished for. Amanda’s muscles knew no bounds when it came to exercising supreme dominance and excruciating degradation and discomfort.
“Get inside,” ordered Amanda and slammed the door shut with a hard thud. She was in no mood for pleasantries. She had no interest in introductions. She meant business. It was going to be a cold, hard and ruthless exchange.
“How dare you look at me,” she sneered. His mouth opened as if to reply but the only sound that came out was a pathetically high pitched yelp as Amanda yanked down violently on a large tuft of his hair.
“Get down on your knees you pathetic piece of shit,” she commanded. Her voice was dark, deep, deadly. You dared not disobey. He had no choice in the matter anyway as Amanda’s murderous grip on his hair brought him crashing to his knees, his face inches from the ground. It remained there, cowed by the stabbing six inch stiletto of her thigh high leather boots that pressed menacingly into the back of his neck. Even his skin, where her stiletto dug in, submitted and blushingly reddened under her powerful presence.
“I think a certain somebody needs to be taught their place don’t they,” stated Amanda ominously. He attempted to lift his head and answer. Amanda felt his resistance against her foot as he tried to comply. Resistance to her authority could only mean one thing – punishment by whatever means pleased her at that particular moment. Amanda dug her stiletto in deeper and immediately he relented to her will.
“That wasn’t a question you moron. I wasn’t asking your opinion. Like I give a shit what you want. The only thing that matters here is what I want and what I want I most definitely get. Do you hear?” Amanda jeered. This time he didn’t take any chances and merely nodded his head, an utterly pitiful and ignominious gesture.
“Let us establish some rules. If you obey these rules, and when I say obey, I mean follow them to the letter, then you will be spared the full force of my wrath. But if you deviate from these rules in the slightest or if you displease me in any way then I will make you feel the brutality of my muscles. I will make you regret ever having crossed me. Is that clear?” barked Amanda. This time his nod was less decipherable. Rather he looked to be shaking his head in fear than in agreement.
“The first rule you will obey is that you will only speak when you are spoken to,” directed Amanda in her most haughtily clipped British accent. “And when you do speak you will always address me as Mistress. In fact the only two words I want to hear come out of your snivelling piss hole of a mouth are ‘yes mistress.’ Do you understand?”
He nodded vigorously.
“Did you not just hear what I said?” Amanda jerked his head back by his hair and spoke threateningly slowly into his ear to make sure that this time there would be no mistake. “I want you to address me as Mistress at all times you worthless arsehole. Is that clear?”
“Yes mistress,” he replied quietly.
“Speak up,” spat Amanda and swiped at his left cheek with a stinging slap to reinforce her point.
“Yes mistress.” This time he was much louder and clearer, stunned
into absolute adherence of her every command.
“Better,” cajoled Amanda, stroking the red mark that was slashed across his cheek.
“The next rule you need to observe is that you are to keep your eyes lowered at all times and never look me directly in the eyes. You need to remember that you are inferior to me in every way. You need to know your station you contemptible lowlife scum because that is exactly what you are. Scum.” Amanda was now leant in so close to his ear that her lips briefly brushed against his skin, making him flinch. Amanda smiled to herself. She loved the rush she felt of having someone so totally under her control, a slave to every syllable she uttered. The heightened sense of power coursed through her body, a potent aphrodisiac that made her nipples swell to the point of soreness. Fortunately the leather bondage harness she was wearing was both peephole and crotchless. The complex criss-cross of leather straps both compromised and liberated her most erogenous zones, leaving them accessible to be attended to on demand. Her entire outfit was a lethal arrangement of compromise and liberation. From the black leather military cap that Amanda wore down low over her eyes that forbade eye contact and the leather cat-o’-nine-tails whip that she brandished to instill compliance, to the eight inch strap on that swayed freely between her legs, the ultimate reward once all resistance had been completely absolved. Only in experiencing excruciating pain could one truly appreciate the pleasurable euphoria that inevitably followed.
