Wrestler's Revenge

Discussion in 'Other Short Stories' started by Trystl, May 19, 2018.

  1. Trystl Bondage Heroine [__________] The Bondage Heroine

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    5
    1--Del

    “I’m going to the gym to work out,” Del said, “want to come with me?”

    This was Del’s way of making up after a fight. She didn’t know why—it was almost like a phobia—but she just couldn’t bring herself to say the actually words I’m sorry. Instead, she tried to make up for her quick (but fortunately short lived) temper in other ways.

    Del wasn’t the least bit surprised when her roommate and lover replied with a barely civil, “No thanks.”

    Jill’s anger never seemed to burn quite as bright but she wasn’t as good at letting it go; she needed time alone, to let it simmer. The heat of her anger would seep away slowly, if her fury didn’t receiving more fuel before it did. So Del would go to the gym alone and when she came home she’d spend the night alone on the couch.

    They hadn’t even been fighting about anything important. They never fought over sex or their work in the ring. It was always the little stuff that tripped them up. The things that were so insignificant it shouldn’t have bothered them—but despite knowing that, sometimes it did.

    Del grabbed her gym bag on the way down the hall and closed the door behind her as she walked out to her car. As she was turning the key in the door, she heard what sounded like someone sneaking up behind her. She began to turn, instinctively dropping to her fighting stance, but before she could locate her target she heard the click as if someone had released some spring loaded mechanism. Even before she realized what that sound was, something hit her chest and stuck to her clothes, as a muscle numbing jolt of electricity turned her limbs into useless lumps of flesh.

    As she tumbled forward she was thankful (just for an instant) that someone rushed over and caught her before she could smack her head on the ground.

    “Hurry up,” said a familiar voice, as Brandi took the keys from her listless hand. “Help me get her into the car before anyone sees us.”

    There were at least three of them. She’d recognized Brandi by her voice, so that meant the other one who was carrying her had to be her tag team partner, who was known only as the Baroness.

    The Women’s Wrestling Federation was an ultra-exclusive gentlemen’s club that specialized in female wrestling. This wasn’t one of those fake wrestling rings, where the only reason the women wrestled was to give the fans a strip show. Here the girls were paid based on whether or not they won, so they cared whether they won or lost—and the only way to win was to pin the opponent in a submission hold that won three-fourths of the crowd’s approval. That encouraged the girls to use holds that were both painful and humiliating to their opponents—which was exactly what they wanted.

    So there was no punching—at least not in the face. None of the girls wanted a black eye and neither did their audience. There weren’t any heavies, either. No huge women who out weight their opponents by fifty or a hundred pounds. If you didn’t weigh in under the maximum weight limit, you weren’t allowed to fight. Dell was small everywhere, including being nearly flat chested, so she’d never had to worry about. During the early years of her wrestling career, Del had gotten beat a lot, even though she’d been a pretty good wrestler back when she was in high school. The moves these women used were different from the traditional wrestling moves. But as the years passed—and the losses mounted—she’d slowly gotten better. The real turn around had come when she happened to run into Jill, her old high school friend. Jill was a much better natural wrestler than she was. She’d actually gone to the state wrestling championships and won in her division—and in the years since she’d been training in martial arts. Since she and Jill teamed up they’d been winning on a regular basis, and she was earning more money than she ever had.

    The final person in this nab team was the one who’d fired the taser at her. He was a despicable puke of a male named Bevis, after an obscure character in some ancient cartoon series that he liked to watch. Since he was male, he wasn’t officially one of the wrestlers, but the bouncers never kicked him out of the ring when he showed up, so apparently he was an approved part of the show. Bevis was fond of taunting the winners he didn’t like, telling them how inferior they were to a male, like him. “I could take you with one arm tied behind my back,” he assured them, as he climbed up on the rail.

    Sometimes, if one of the fighters looked worn out, he’d actually venture into the ring during his taunting—and spar with her a bit. If he managed to get the upper hand quickly, he would put her in a humiliating submission hold—but if she still seemed strong, he’d scurry away before she could get a firm hold on him. He was particularly fond of attacking any of the women who happened to be unconscious, injured or dazed during the fight. Even though there was no punching to the face that didn’t mean the fights weren’t violent. Women could be thrown against the bucklers in the corner or landed on heads during a flip—there were any number of ways they could find themselves too incapacitated to fend of a scavenger like Bevis.

    As a beginner, Del had found Bevis clamping her head between his legs more than once, as he farted in her face. Once, he’d taken her while her arm was injured and placed her in a Boston crab that was so severe she thought he was trying to break her back. Fortunately, she was very limber. When she was younger her mother wanted her to be a ballerina—but after the first few years of practicing, she’d decide it wasn’t for her. Despite the occasional bruises and pains, she always preferred a full body contact of a sport like wrestling. And she’d been getting better and better. Even before she teamed up with Jill, she hadn’t been loosing nearly as often.

    But now, after everything, she found herself being thrown onto the back seat of a car as Bevis slid in beside her.

    “Make sure you secure her elbows, like we discussed, before she regains the use of her limbs,” The Baroness said, as she climbed into the front seat. Brandi was already behind the wheel, turning the key in the ignition.

    “Say goodnight, Sweet Lips,” Bevis said as he clamped his hand over my nose and mouth.

    Del tried to breath, but her muscles were still too frozen to even squirm. After a few moments she began to pass out.



    *****

    The first thing Del realized when she came to was that she was lying across Bevis’ lap and her elbows had been secured behind her back. Bevis had his hand resting on her ass, and his fingers were busy tracing intimate lines between the lips of her cunt. That was when she realized she was completely naked. She tried to struggle and realized (thankfully) that her muscles were no longer frozen, but Bevis just leaned over, pressing his elbow into her back as he leaned down to whisper. “You’re not supposed to be awake yet,” he said. He clapped his hand over her nose and mouth again.

    “Careful with that,” Brandi said. “You don’t want to kill her.”

    “I thought that was the idea,” Bevis countered.

    “Well yeah,” Brandi said, seeming a little flustered. “But we don’t want to do it before we get her to your studio!”

    “Point taken,” Bevis said as he released his hand from Del’s nose just as she thought she would pass out if he held it any longer.

    She took a few deep breaths then said, “What are you guys doing? Let me go right nawh…”

    Her rant ended as Bevis clamped his hand over her mouth again—his elbow still jabbing in her back.

    “I think knocking her out is better than listening to that,” Bevis said.

    “No,” Brandi said, “if she won’t shut up I’ll tase her again.”

    “She’s sitting in my lap,” Bevis observed.

    “Doesn’t matter,” Brandi assured him, “the current won’t pass over into your body.”

    “I'd just as soon not test that theory out,” he said. “I hear being tased is rather painful.”

    “Very,” Brandi said as she reached over the back seat and pressed the electrodes of her gun against Del’s ass as she pulled the trigger again.”

    She and Bevis both screamed at the same time, but his scream continued longer than hers. When he realized he hadn’t been zapped he was pissed. “Damn it, I told you not to do that,” he shouted.

    “Well,” Brandi said with a laugh, “Now we know for sure, don’t we.”

    “Next time, leave me out of your little experiments.”

    “Just let me know if she needs another shot. I kind of enjoy seeing the two of you twitch like that.”



    *****

    Wherever they were going, they traveled the rest of the way in silence. Bevis continued to idly explore Del’s private parts, and even after she had the use of her limbs again, she endured it silently, with barely more than a quiver when his fingers slid inside her a little too far.

    The Baroness pulled the car through a set of gates then drove up a long drive to a house that was sitting in a wooded area at the top of the hill.

    “Get her inside,” the Baroness said. “I don’t want to have to carry her again.”

    “Are you going to be good,” Bevis asked as he once again pressed his elbow painfully into her back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Or do you want Brandi to zap you again?”

    “I’ll be good,” Dell said, wincing at the pain until he lifted is elbow from her back.

    “Good girl,” he said.

    Opening the door, Brandi threw a black leather collar onto the seat beside Del’s head. She still held the end of a long black rope that was tied to a D-ring in the collar. “Put that on her,” she told Bevis. “I’ll guide her into the studio so Ramone can take his pictures.”

    Pictures? Del wondered as she followed Brandi into the house. Fortunately there was paving the whole way—first the concrete drive and then a paved walkway. They lead her into a foyer and down a long hall to a room with the door already open. Inside, there was a studio of sorts. A camera was set up on a tripod and the floor was covered with a white rag. When she entered, a man she didn’t know turned on a pair of lights that almost blinded Del with their intensity. She closed her eyes and turned her head, feeling the warm of the lamps soaking into her bare skin.

    Brandi led Del over to a chair which was positioned close to the back wall but centered in the middle of the room. Brandi climbed up on the chair and passed the end of the rope through a pulley that was hanging from the ceiling.

    “What are you doing?” Del asked as Brandi stepped down from the chair and began to pull the rope through.

    “What does it look like we’re doing,” Bevis sneered. “We’re taking some snuff pictures to show all your friends.”

    “What friends?” The Baroness said. “She doesn’t have any friends.”

    “Not any more,” Brandi agreed, as she slowly began to pull the collar tight around Del’s neck.

    Del struggled, trying to pull her arms free, but the bindings around her elbows were just too strong. As the collar began to pull her off the ground she rose up on the tips of her toes to relieve some of the pressure, but it was still hard to breath.

    “That’s perfect,” the photographer said as he snapped a picture. “Raise her up just a little more. I want to see her face really turning blue.”

    He snapped more pictures as the rope slowly lifted Del just a little higher. Now her toes were just barely touching the ground and there was nothing she could do to take a breath. She tried desperately to stretch out her legs just a little further, but as her feet clawed at the ground, trying to find purchase, her toes just slipped over the sheets that covered the floor. It was enough to make her body spin a little, but not enough to let her breath. As her air ran out and her head began to grow light as she neared unconsciousness, she could the others clapping and making delighted sounds as the shutter clicked again and again.

    WR--hang-3.png

    Oh my God! I’m going to die, she thought.

    She could feel and hear her heart pounding in her chest as the world slowly began to fade from her sight. But even as everything was going black and it was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate, she could still hear the clicking of the camera… and Bevis saying, “Let her down for a bit. I think she’s loosing consciousness.”

    His words didn’t seem to make sense; his voice seemed distant, as if it were passing through a very long tube. But then she felt the collar loosening around her neck and as she slowly regained awareness she realized that Bevis was holding her around the waist, supporting her weight so she wouldn’t fall. “You feeling alright?” he asked.

    Del couldn’t speak, but she managed a weak nod as she sucked in deep breaths.

    “Good,” the photographer said, “Spin her a little so I can get some shots from a different angle then take her up again. Not quite so high, I want her to last a little longer this time.”

    “No! You can’t do this…” Del squawked, desperately struggling to get free as Bevis placed his hands on her hips and gave her body a quick little turn. Del would have said more, even though she knew it was pointless, but Brandi had already begun to hoist her back up so any further protests were abruptly cut off as she rose back up on her toes, unsupported once again.

    They left her there until she lost consciousness then they let her down so she could recover once again. Then Bevis gave her another little quarter turn so the photographer could take some shots from the back. And as she rose into the air, she wondered (yet again) if this would be the end. The photographer had taken his pictures from the front, the side and the read. There wasn’t any need to let her down again.

    So this time she was a little surprised when she regained consciousness.

    This time they let her all the way down so that she was resting on her knees with her head pressed against the ground as she gasped for breaths.

    He was kneeling behind her, holding her—not in a supporting way, but in a caressing way. His hands strayed up and down the lengths of her body a few ties before one of them seemed to chance upon one of her breasts. He found her plump little nipple with his fingers and gave a good squeeze until Del finally screamed for him to stop—not with words, of course, her throat was too raw to make coherent sounds.

    “You about done?” Bevis asked.

    At first Del though he was talking to her, but it was the Photographer who answered. “I’ve got what I want,” he said.

    “Good,” Brandi said, “Then I guess it’s time for the real thing.”

    Del wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t understand what that meant. She struggled one last time to free herself but even if there hadn’t been three of them who were willing to hold her down, the repeated strangling had taken a lot out of her. Bevis held her easily without any help as Brandi held out a rougher, more traditional looking rope with a noose tied into one end.

    “Take off that collar,” Brandi said, “And let’s get this over with.”

    In the background, Del could hear the photographer still taking pictures.



    2--Jill

    Jill’s anger had abandoned her more than two days ago. Now all she felt was fear, wondering where her best friend and lover had gone. It wasn’t like Del to run off without saying anything. It wasn’t like Del to run off at all. That was more Jill’s style. When she got mad enough she’d go and run off for a day, until she cooled down.

    This time, Del has said she was going to the gym and that was the last time Jill had seen her.

    Jill had gone to the cops when Del didn’t come home, but they’d told her she needed to wait 72 hours before filing a missing persons report. Apparently, a long time ago, it used to be only 48 hours, but these days disappearances were so common the police couldn’t afford to look into all of them. That only made Jill worry more—because the web files she’d looked at all agreed that if you didn’t find a missing person in the first 24 hours, your chances of finding them decreased exponentially each day that passed. Given that, she wondered if the police even bothered to look for missing persons any more at all.

    What was the point?

    So Jill had spent most of the first day calling everyone they knew to ask if they’d seen Del. She even called some of the wrestlers she didn’t like that much from Women’s Wrestling federation. She hadn’t been wrestling with them long, but Jill liked getting up in front of an appreciative crowd of men and man handling another woman into submission.

    Inside the ring, the rules were simple—if brutal. It was outside the ring where things always got messy. Like lovers who ran away on you after an argument and didn’t return.

    After not sleeping for more than 24 hours while she scoured every hangout that she could think of where Del might be hiding out—Jill had finally slept for a few hours. Then she’d woke up and did it all over again for another few hours until people started telling her to quite calling; that they’d call her if they heard anything.

    Where are you Del? My beautiful Del.

    Del was short for Ordelia. Kind of ironic since this was proving to be the most horrendous ordeal that Jill had ever faced in her entire life. In the past, things had always come easily to her. So what had happened? Where had things gone wrong during these last few hours?

    Jill and Del had a tag team fight coming up in about sixteen hours—and she hadn’t been following her pre-fight training regiment.

    Maybe I should go to the gym, she thought. If Del didn’t show up, she’d have to cancel the fight or ask Roz if she could make it a one-on-one fight. Del used to do those all the time, but it would be the first time Jill fought without Del—and it just didn’t feel right. She would miss having someone in her corner, cheering her on; waiting to step in when she became tired. As tiny as she was, Del was one hell of a scrapper. She was quick and her tiny little muscles had an endurance greater than most of the wrestlers who were larger. She won by being slippery—or if she was caught, by enduring the hold until she could get out.

    It wasn’t really fair, but the men in the audience didn’t play fairly. Three-quarters of them had to agree that a fighter had won before they would call the match. And they liked to see the prettier girls in trouble—so they frequently took a lot longer to call the match when one of the cuties (like Del) were in trouble. Del had also gained a reputation for being able to get out of tough holds—so that gave them even more incentive to delay their vote.

    Why am I thinking about Del getting pummeled in the ring? I need to find something to take my mind off worrying.

    With that, Jill finally decided. She grabbed her gym bag and headed for the gym.



    *****

    The locker room was dark and quiet as Jill entered the room; she turned on the light and went over to sit on the bench in front of her locker. A few people of the wrestlers were sitting around the table in the lounge just down the hall, but the ring was empty.

    The best part about having an experienced tag-team partner was that she’d always had someone to practice against. It felt strange sitting in this room alone. She didn’t really feel like working out, but her mind kept returning to thoughts of Del. So to block them out for a few moments she opened her locker and began to undress. She was down to per socks and panties when she noticed a strange piece of paper lying on the floor not far away. It was large. Larger than the size of those old-timey magazines she’d seen in the museum, but instead of being made out of glossy paper it was made out of a courser sort of bond—almost like packing paper, only this wasn’t a plastic, it was real paper. It wasn’t bound with staples along the spine, either. This was simply a few sheets of large paper folded down the middle then folded again.

    What really caught Jill’s eye, however, was the color photo on the front. It wasn’t a very good picture, but it seemed to be of a girl hanging by a rope . Beside the picture, in big bold letters were the words:

    Female Wrestler Commits Suicide at Historical Site

    WR--Hang-CU-2.png

    Jill picked up the paper. The picture was too fuzzy to be sure, but the woman in the picture had the same body type as Del. She quickly smoothed out the paper and began to read the finer print:

    Ordelia Simmons, a long-time female wrestler at a popular gentleman’s club, known only as the Women’s Wrestling federation, was found hanging from the gallows at the West Florence Historical site. West Florence is the prison where the first debt-slaves were auctioned off during the early days of the modern restoration...

    As Jill was reading, the door of the locker room opened behind her and three people came in. She heard them, but she was too horrified by what she was reading to pay any attention.

    “Shame about your friend,” Bevis said.

    For a moment Jill felt shock that a man was in the changing room; but then, she began to get really angry. “Get out,” she said, as she spun around, “You’re not supposed to…”

    She stopped as she saw the two women that were with him. The Baroness and Brandi both glanced down at her naked breast and smirked dismissively. Jill wasn’t quite as flat chested as Del, but she didn’t exactly have large boobs either.

    “We sent pictures to that newspaper after we strung her up from that rope,” Brandi said.

    Jill frowned. “What are you talking about,” she said, suddenly feeling very cold.

    “You know what I’m saying,” Brandi said. “You speak English.”

    Swallowing hard, Jill suddenly felt both furious and scared. “If that’s true, why would you tell me about it?”

    “Dead girls don’t tell tales,” Bevis said with his dim-wit’s grin.

    “I’m not dead,” Jill protested, as she readied herself for a desperate fight.

    “I think we can remedy that little problem,” the Baroness said.

    Jill tried to break through their circle, but to do so she had to jump over the bench first; and Bevis was ready. Even before she began to jump, he was pulling something that looked like a gun from behind his back. He pulled the trigger just as Jill was slamming her forearm into the side of Brandi’s face. Brandi went down, but so did Jill—and only one of them got back up.

    “Bitch just about broke my jaw,” Brandi said. And Jill could imagine that she was rubbing it with her hand. She had no way of knowing because she was sprawled helplessly on the ground, her body trembling in pain—except that her muscles were too stiff to move, so she wasn’t really trembling—not physically. The vibrating feeling she felt was all hidden inside her body as the electrical jolt played havoc with the synapses of her body and mind.

    “Pick her up and carry her out to the ring,” the Baroness said. “I want to get this over with.”

    “Not so fast,” Brandi said. “I want a little revenge for that sucker puck.”

    She reached down, grabbed the back of Jills panties and began to pull. By the time Jill was beginning to regain the use of her limbs, Brandi had dragged her more than twenty feet, through the door and down the hall. There was only another two hundred or so feet to go.

    WR--Wdrag-locker.png

    “Please stop,” Jill cried, as she brought her arms up to her side instead of letting them drag behind her. Her arms were still very weak or she would have tried to regain her feet—but it was all she could do to lift her head and use her arms to lift her self a little so her body didn’t scrape too painfully against the floor. “Stop! She cried again, “Where are you taking me?”

    “Out to the main room, of course,” the baroness said. “We want to hang you where everyone will see you as soon as they come into the gym.”

    “We’re going to leave that newspaper article right beside you, so they’ll think you committed suicide,” Bevis said as he unbuckled his belt and began to pull it out of the belt loop. “Just like that stupid girlfriend of yours.” He took the belt and brought it down across Jill’s ass as Brandi kept pulling her forward by her panties.

    By the time Jill was feeling like she might have enough strength to risk struggling harder, it was too late. The Baroness had already looped some kind of roped around her ankles. It felt like a noose—like the one she’d seen around Del’s neck in that picture. Brandi was still dragging her down the hall towards the ring. She made it another sixty feet or so. They were only a few more feet away from the door. Jill tried to wiggle free, but she couldn’t. Every time she tried to use her legs, the Baroness pulled back on the rope, which just made the panties dig even deeper into her crotch. And when she finally gave up, Bevis would strike her on the ass again with his belt.

    All she could do was try to lift herself a little, so that her body wasn’t rubbed quite so raw. Even though the floor was made of a slick tile, being dragged so far across it wasn’t easy on the skin.

    “You’ll never get away with this,” Jill cried. “The cops will know I didn’t hang myself when they see all those belt marks… and the rope marks around my ankles.”

    This didn’t seem to impress Bevis at all. “Shut up, bitch,” he said as he brought his belt down yet again.

    Now they’d reached the door and Brandi stopped pulling to open it. “I’m getting kind of tired,” she said, wiping her face with her shirt. “She can walk the rest of the way.”

    “No!” Bevis said, “She can hop. Leave the noose around her ankles. I don’t want to take any chances that she might run.” When the others agreed he reached down and jammed his fingers into Jill’s arm pits as he picked her up with a grunt of effort and set her back down on her feet. “Get hopping,” he said, as he took a step back and used his belt to motivate her.

    Jill felt stupid hopping across the floor while the others jeered at her, but she couldn’t see any other choice. If she just stood there, they’d probably use the taser on her again; and Bevis would keep using the belt. It was better to pretend like she was cooperating, and hope that when they took the noose off her ankles she’d be able to find a better opening to try an escape. So she hopped across the floor to the ring.

    “This ought to do,” the Baroness said, pulling on the ropes as Jill took her last hop.

    With her feet pulled out from under her, Jill crashed face first to the concrete floor. She managed to brace herself with her arms, so she didn't smash her face too badly, but she still landed hard enough that she felt a little woozy as she crawled back to her hands and knees. It was instinct, the habits of the ring urging her to stand at all costs. As she was floundering, Brandi took hold of her hands and began wrapping them with rope. “You won’t be needing these,” she said.

    Before Jill was coherent enough to protest, her hands were tied together in front of her and Brandi was holding on to the rope so she wouldn’t try anything as the Baroness removed the noose from her feet.

    “Now I think it’s time for you to hang,” The baroness said, as she began expanding the opening in the noose.

    “Please!” Jill begged. “You can’t do this to me.”

    “Oh, I think we can,” the Baroness said, as she began to slip the rope under Jill’s arms, tucking it up around her armpits before looping it over her head.

    “And what’s more I think you deserve it,” Bevis said.

    “Wait a minute,” Jill said, suddenly confused by the fact that the noose wasn’t around her neck, but under her arms. “What’s going on here?”

    “We’re hanging you up, of course,” Brandi said, as she tossed the end of the noose rope up over the corner post.

    As it came down on the other side, Bevis caught it and began to pull out the slack while the Baroness climbed up into the ring.

    “You’re not going to kill me?” Jill asked in surprise.

    “Not today,” the Baroness said with a smile, “And, in case you’re interested, we didn’t kill your girlfriend either.”

    “Del’s alive? But how? I saw that photo.”

    “A little photoshop magic is all.”

    Now all the slack was out of the rope and Brandi joined Bevis in pulling as the rope began to lift Jill in the air.

    “I still don’t understand what you’re doing,” Jill complained. “Are you planning to leave me hanging here like this?”

    “Not quite,” the baroness said with a smirk as she leaned over the top rope and grabbed the top of Jill’s panties. “Thank God for super-cloth,” she said with a laugh as she pulled the material up and tied it around the top of the turnbuckle. “It’s the best invention since three-dimensional printing.”

    “I thought that was supposed to be sliced bread,” Bevis said.

    “Get real,” Brandy said with a scowl, “no one bothers to slice bread any more.”

    Jill’s panties stretched even further as Bevis stopped pulling on the rope and all of her weight was suddenly supported by her panties. “Now that’s got to hurt!” he said with an amused grin.

    “And I bet it will be embarrassing when all the people start showing up in a few hours,” Brandi added.

    Oh God, Jill thought in a sudden panic, how many other people will see me like this?



    She reached up a little, trying to measure (without being too obvious) the distance to the top of the corner post. She was desperately hoping she might be able to untie herself, once the others were gone, but it was clear her reach was going to fall more than a foot short. And to make maters worse, with her wrists tied together, she knew she wouldn’t be able to climb the ropes to reach the top. Her only chance was the faint hope that her panties would finally break under the strain of her weight. Unfortunately, the Baroness was right. Super-cloth would stretch like the devil, but it wasn’t likely to break even if she weighed ten times as much.

    “Start loosing a few fights,” the Baroness said as she pulled the noose over Jill’s head and let it drop to the floor. “Or next time maybe the two of you really will hang.”
    Last edited: May 21, 2018