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Forum Saradas  |  Female Muscle Art - Female Muscle Fiction  |  Muscular Women Fiction  |  Muscle & Domme
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Author Topic: Muscle & Domme  (Read 12345 times)

Offline taoschild

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Muscle & Domme
« on: January 02, 2023, 06:17:51 pm »
This is from **The Secret** which is a novella and part of the soon to be released short story anthology entitled, Muscle & Domme I'm releasing soon. Some of you may already have seen this because I previously released a rough draft version of this story here.

----

For decades I buried the secret. You’re a pervert… weird… a deviant… As much as I tried to convince myself that it was just a different taste in women, from the back of my mind a voice always arose to the surface to tell me it wasn’t natural. How can you like muscular women? You’re the man, not the helpless maiden. And you want her to be stronger than you - God you’re screwed up.

Sure, in the animal kingdom, it was survival of the fittest.  The strongest male lion would get his brood and favor the most powerful and muscular female lioness to feed him and create stronger offspring. But with humans, it isn’t that way.  You’re different, you’re strange, you’re a deviant.

Periodically, I’d refuse my inclination and date skinny girls, with big boobs to fit in with how ‘all the guys felt about women.’ Something would always bring it roaring back– and each time with more fervor. A flexing calf on a biker, a fit runner, or a solitary woman in the weight room was an instant reminder of something of which I'd been deprived. One hit from them was like the rekindling of a long-lost drug– and I was hooked.

Binging on buying Women’s Physique Worlds, old ESPN videotapes, and a few “hard women” Playboy issues, I’d wear myself out admiring these women. On and on the cycle went until I decided to ‘grow up’ and put that part of my life behind me once and for all.

Eventually, I married a wonderful woman named Mary. She was fit but hardly muscular. With her, I continued to bury the secret of my fetish. Occasionally, I’m sure she had suspicions. Once we watched a Cirque du Soliel and I was entranced by the chiseled six-pack abs and muscular thighs of a muscular trapeze artist as they clamped onto the ribbon hanging from above.

Afterward, she asked, “you were really amazed by that woman, weren’t you?”

“It was just cool how she could cling to that ribbon and then drop and stop on the dime.”

She laughed, “I would think you had a crush on her if it weren’t for all of her muscles. I like the fit look, but I mean really. It was too much wasn’t it.”

My cheeks flushed crimson so fast I could feel the heat cascading off of them. “Maybe a little,” I confessed, feeling nothing of the sort. I watched her double-take and prayed the conversation would end. Thankfully it did, but I knew she was suspicious.

She joined the gym to start ‘firming up’ the next weekend so in the end, maybe it was a good thing.
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For years the status quo held. We had kids and work was exhausting and I figured the urge was gone. Sure, I squeezed her tight ass imagining they were as big as pumpkins, and kneaded her chest feeling for the muscle when we made love– but doesn’t every guy have his favorites? Slowly, she became more muscular too, but she hardly approached anything more than bikini class. Still, she was a beautiful woman and we got along great, so I had no complaints–even if she never met my fantasy girl. How many men’s wives are their end-all-be-all when it comes to looks anyways?  Isn’t that why we’re always casting second glances at pretty women?

We had kids who after endless recitals, sporting events, and graduations grew up and left the house. Suddenly, I had some time on my hands. Idle hands make for the devil’s work and the need returned. What made it far worse was Felicity.

Interviewing for secretaries, I’d found the one I wanted to hire. Her credentials were impeccable, and she came with perfect references. Unfortunately, there was one more woman who showed up, so I felt obligated to interview her. As my outgoing secretary, Jean, left to bring her in, I fished for her paperwork.

“Miss, Felicity Jones to see you, Sir,” Jean announced. My head was buried in the candidate’s resume, giving it only a cursory review since I’d all but decided to hire the previous candidate.

“Go ahead and have a seat,” I motioned to the chair in front of me without looking up. I noted on her resume that she was twenty-five but hadn’t any real experience as a legal secretary. I almost told her no before we started but as she drew into my field of vision I froze. Taut, tanned calves that resembled a great work of art more than a body part, graced her form.

 

Their loveliness was encircled by a fashionable brown leather shoe strap. Her calves were far bigger than those of any biker and had clearly been carved out by endless repetitions in the gym. They popped and flexed as she headed toward the chair.

As my eyes scanned upward to take in her frame, it was almost uncomfortable to look at her hamstrings and thighs because they were ‘in your face huge.’  Her thighs looked as big as oak trees, pushing out beneath her almost Victorian tiny waist and a taupe tan skirt. Striations popping across the thick cords of muscle chased away any idea that it might be fat or that she might just be big-boned.

“Hi, I’m Felicity," she chimed in a deep but lyrical baritone voice. As she held out her hand my eyes nearly popped at seeing her thick forearms streaked with blue veins. Hesitantly, my hand reached out and we shook, and instantly pain laced through me at the firmness of her grip. Immediately, my cock, as if echoing the shake, began to bulge in need.

Vaguely, I noticed she had piercing green eyes beneath the wisps of autumn-colored bangs which hung down low, caressing her cheeks, but I couldn’t focus on them. There was just so much girth to take in that I felt like a kid taken to a candy shop for the first time.

“I’m uh...uh...uh.”

“Jim?” She finished with a smile.

“Yeah, Jim,” I said. “You have a strong grip there.”

“Thanks, they say a firm handshake is a must and I’ve worked enough in the gym to get one,” she laughed.

“I can see that,” my cheeks heated as I drank her in. “I... I… I see your new...new...um...to the...um...”

“New to the industry?” I nodded and wiped my mouth before any drool began to form. “Yes, I’ve been powerlifting since college, and making my living as a trainer but it’s simply not paying the bills. Since I’ve switched over to bodybuilding, even though I’m now a pro, there really aren’t adequate financial rewards for women. I think there's a bit of sexism at work there. Anyway, I’m talking too much, but the point is I’ll work hard if you give me the job, and your generous offer of 60k a year would fill my needs.”

“Yes,” I whispered, my mind in a haze staring at how the push of impossibly high swelling pecs tented her white blouse, pressing the sting of her nipple against the material.

Everything about her was as if she were the embodiment of my wettest of dreams. With a simple twitch, cords of throbbing pumped flesh expanded and danced. Each of her slightest movements demonstrated her power and size. Even through the blouse, I could see that her pecs were better developed them most male bodybuilders.

She smiled, knowingly, catching the direction of my stare. As if on command, striations shot out from the center of her thick chest and her nipples pressed harder against the flimsy material. “If I could get 100k, I could get even bigger and maybe win the Universe.”

“Okay, 100k” I heard myself whisper, entranced by the movement of her chest and her skin-splitting peaks on her biceps. Dry-shredded definition carved into every one of her muscles

It didn’t take a genius to realize that I was at her mercy and Felicity was clearly quite bright.

She rolled her sleeves back over her shoulders to show me more skin. She unveiled cannonball-like capped shoulders and gave me a wink.

 “Is it just me or is it hot in here?” she asked.

“Hot…” I breathed my brain hazing over as she flexed her biceps back and forth. I watched as the muscle inflated like a balloon.  Veins danced atop her shaking biceps while glistening beads of sweat slid down the mighty ripples producing an almost shimmering effect.

“If I get the job, could I wear tank tops until the heat thing is fixed?”

“Yes,” I declared as if it were a new office policy.

“Okay, so one hundred thousand, lunch breaks to work out, and I can come back after lunch in my gym clothes?” she smiled. I nodded. “Where do I sign?”

“I’ll draw up the documents and bring them by your place. Leave your address with my secretary. I’m a bad man.

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Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #1 on: January 04, 2023, 09:57:14 pm »
This is another segment from the novella, The Secret, in the upcoming anthology, Muscle and Domme

----

    I couldn’t get Felicity out of my head. Long suppressed feelings surged through me clouding my judgment and giving me a single-minded focus. My internet searches in my off-hours were strictly for muscular women. I cleared half of the floor of all other personnel and moved her desk right outside my glass office window and treated myself to an almost voyeuristic fantasy display as I watched her work. Sometimes, I have to admit, my hand would find its way beneath my pants while I watched her. 


    When she reached up and fiddled with her hair while she was thinking, her bicep peaks bulged, radiating a sense of power that delivered electric shocks throughout my frame.  Everything about her was near perfect. Tanned to perfection, she almost seemed photoshopped, to a level of beauty no human could attain. I was literally consumed by her muscles and over the months she continued to grow.


    Each day after lunch she’d return drenched in sweat, causing the Lycra of her sports bra to cling to her mighty chest, pecs full D-cups of solid unyielding muscles pulse, and her back swell outward. Her dress code was entirely unacceptable for the workplace but for me with Felicity, less was more. If not in a tank top or t-back her workout clothes covered her muscular arms like a second skin. Her attire allowed me nearly unfettered viewing of the exquisite, jagged lines of her muscularity. Fewer clothes provided better viewing of her deeply tanned skin and the way her tendons moved under her skin; the way veins pumped blood into the thick muscle.


    When we became more personal and friendly it was both arousing and alarming. Try as I might to steer the conversation from her physique, what she was wearing, or how each other looked, somehow, she’d bring it back. My body’s reaction was like clockwork, I’d feel my cheeks heat, breath catch, and then become more ragged, and my cock would come to attention.


    “Hey, boss,” she smiled after she returned from another grueling workout looking as if she would at any second explode through the material that precariously clung to her body. “Still wearing those uncomfortable stuffed shirt clothes? Don’t you own this place? Why don’t you do ‘dress-down Friday’ every day?”


    “Got to set an example,” I said. “See, it obviously works on you.” I smiled, my eyes finding her proud melons of muscle that protruded from her chest. Beads of sweat still clung to her frame as if she’d sprayed herself intentionally for a photo shoot before she returned to her desk. The teal workout top and cut-off jeans looked more appropriate for an 80s film than a professional office setting, but other than joking with her about it I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Beneath the frayed jean cut-offs, thick striated thighs which would have been impressive on a male bodybuilder swept outward and down into mighty teardrops. Her hamstrings were striated so that each individual muscle was clearly defined. The great channels that crisscrossed her legs looked like fissures in the earth itself.


    “It’s not my fault,” she laughed. I couldn’t fit my thighs into the jeans anymore, so I had to cut them.”


    “Well, you could wear something more professional like a skirt.” I posited.


    “Am I being dress coded?” She laughed. “It feels like middle school all over again.” Did you have these legs in middle school? Your poor teachers.


    “No, I’m just kidding. Wear what you want.” The less the better.


     My long hiatus from muscular women had ended with a bang and I was hooked and sucked into the rabbit hole of arousal. When I could muster the confidence, I’d go outside and ask her a question about a client or something. Anything to be near the work of art that was her body. Everything about her from her aroma to her beefy mounds of muscle oozed sex.


    Even though I was her boss, I shook in her presence like a naughty schoolboy confronting a strict professor. My pep talks before I saw her were washed away in the aura of her power and beauty. I chalked my behavior up to the years of denial of my secret, but even as I got to know her better my paralysis in her presence seemed to grow worse. Perhaps it was because she was growing too. She announced each major accomplishment with pride, unaware of the visceral way in which it affected my body.


    “My biceps have gained two inches in the past eight months!” Explosions went off in my brain and I found myself wobbling on my feet.


    “Really?” I gulped.


    “Yeah, from sixteen to eighteen inches. I’m up with the big girls now. They’d better watch out at the Universe this year, Felicity be a-comin’ to win and she’s not going to take any prisoners,” she laughed in a throaty way. Could you take me as a prisoner? I’d go willingly.


    “It certainly looks like it.” I nodded. She kneaded her bicep lovingly in a fashion that set me off. Casually, I crossed my legs to hide my growing erection. Her words alone inflamed me now, but her vibrant, powerful muscles and the way she caressed them was just too much.


    Everything about her looked bigger and stronger, and even the way she moved seemed lither. It was as if she were becoming a superior species altogether. She’s going to smash the competition. Unfortunately, even as I was cheering her and congratulating her in my head, somehow my thoughts would always stray.


Around her I was a complete voyeur, hornier than ever, imagining what she’d be like in bed.  Pushing  me down, gloating over her superiority, having her way with me, and  deciding on how I could best pleasure her. Riding me until she was  satisfied. I’d heard stories about how female bodybuilders were VERY  horny women because they had such high testosterone levels. Would she do  me twice or would that be just hors d'oeuvres for her amazing body?

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #2 on: January 11, 2023, 01:39:14 am »
Another section of The Secret from the short story anthology, Muscle & Domme written by stmercy2020, RGreye and JGmuscle12. It is now available on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX and on Smashwords https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1315842

-----

One day, I touched her. I swear it was innocent, a move of practiced empathy with men and women I’d performed umpteen times over the years. It was because she was so hot that I’d avoided it up until that point. That day though, it was electric.

It was a baking hot afternoon and she returned from her lunch break and threw her gym bag down angrily. There was such power in the toss that I was drawn to her desk like a moth to a flame. Every muscle on her body appeared pumped and her bare arms were bloated with blood. “So, how was your workout?” I asked innocently as I came up behind her.

Her lips slowly curled up in disappointment. “Honestly,” she said, “not the best. I was having trouble filling out the billing on the Thompson account and I think I carried my frustration into my workout. And it's hot enough to roast a pig outside.”

I watched a single bead of sweat descend beneath her top and ride down the ridges of her pectorals. She was oblivious to my lechery, studying a piece of paper she held in her hands as she spoke. The simple maneuver caused her biceps to flare. As always, I took in every twitch in her body. I noticed that her normally tight post-workout clothes had been replaced by a loose tank. Her garb afforded me the opportunity to study her physique in finer detail as it moved and fetched on her muscles.  A spider web of deep striations streaked across her pecs. The last remains of her female breasts had been worked away over years of heavy lifting. In its place were twin mounds of meaty pecs with a clear chasm in between that had to be, despite the lack of fat, a D-cup. A deep ravine between the muscles that must have been 3 inches deep descended the length of her chest. Stinging the material were two, proud cherry-red nipples. I tried to look away but was hypnotized by her beauty. God her pecs are huge. How much can she bench?

“You’d think that those poor weights would be sorry if you were angry,” I joked. Lame. Why can’t I be my usual witty self around her?  For God’s sake, you’re a lawyer and after eight months you can still barely form a sentence around her without stammering. “I mean, you look so strong -- you could probably bench 250.” Please tell me how much you can do. It will be in my thoughts and deeds for weeks.

“Ha, well, to be honest, I used to do a little over four hundred fifty and had designs on the world record but when Rae-Ann did like six hundred I knew I needed a challenge I could win That’s why I switched over to bodybuilding. I did max out on the leg press out today for a change though and my trainer sat atop it too and it wasn’t much of a challenge.  But still, I just couldn’t focus and so I came back early.”

I looked at the clock. She’d been gone nearly two hours. Hardly early. “Let me see if I can help you then. As I hunched down to look at her document, my hand found her shoulder to try and comfort her. It was an experienced move, not designed to be sexual in any way. As I rested my hand on her hard shoulder cap though, it suddenly swelled and propelled my hand upward.

Great granite boulders warmed by her soft, supple skin were unlike anything I’d ever felt. My initial reaction was like being struck by a cattle prod and I found myself unable to move. Power radiated from her, and a cascade of striations arose beneath my hapless fingers. 

When I realized that her response had been inviting rather than defensive the world seemed to speed up and my body reacted. Slowly, a sensation perforated my hand starting with pinpricks and eventually rising to an electric storm. My brain shut off momentarily and all that the world was her hardness, her strength, her muscle, her desires. Whatever she wanted I would be at her complete whim. She bit her bottom lip whether from consternation or knowing power I wasn’t sure.

I caught the scent of her minty breath before my brain could decipher her words. “Could you rub my shoulders? They’re quite sore.” She cooed. My fingers twitched against the hardness and did all they could to penetrate what felt like corrugated steel.  As my cock throbbed shame wormed its way through me but my physical desire won out over the guilt. I was overwhelmed, nearly paralyzed, and left helpless before her.

“Harder,” her deep voice commanded, and I found my hands, against my own will, complying immediately. A tingling feeling as if recovering from a dead arm eventually made its way through me as she relaxed.

“Thanks,” she declared, dismissing me as a queen might to her servants.  “I needed that with all the stress. Don’t worry, boss, I’ll figure this out.” Rolling her shoulder blades back so her enormous back pushed against the material my eyes finally unlocked their steady gaze on her shoulders and pecs and panned to a different body part.

Slowly, my senses flooded back to me in flashes like a lost memory and I let go of her mighty muscles. Even as I did so my hand twitched in regret. “Um, okay… I’m glad you got this,” was all I could manage. Hesitantly, I retreated and kept walking when she called out and she called out.

“I hope you wouldn’t mind using those magic hands on me again after my work out tomorrow.” I’m helpless.

Offline rodman

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #3 on: January 11, 2023, 07:43:15 pm »
Awesome 👍! I just purchased the book on Kindle from Amazon. Thanks 😎.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #4 on: January 13, 2023, 05:40:40 am »
Awesome 👍! I just purchased the book on Kindle from Amazon. Thanks 😎.
Thanks - I hope you enjoy it.  If you do, please leave a review:

Another segment of The Secret from the new short story anthology, Muscle and Domme. Available on Amazon on the kindle and in paperback: www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX and Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1315842
---
I made no advances on Felicity despite what became routine massages, but if she had made an offer I would have succumbed. Even that, I knew was wrong, but I was powerless to resist. She was a drug and with every massage, I became more enraptured with her. Closing my eyes, I could see her every detail as if it were emblazoned on my psyche. Imposing, thick veins snaked across her dark and evenly tanned skin physique. After every workout sweat traced her expansive, curved edges as if highlighting her chiseled blocks of rigid power. She was all woman, but explosive, and powerful.

She oozed sex appeal, and something told me that even though I was almost twice her age if I’d made a play, she would have succumbed. The idea of laying with such a woman, feeling her power, squeezing her taut hard frame as she squeezed me and demonstrated her physical superiority entranced me. Somehow, I resisted.

I tried to convince myself that I was just looking. Window shopping is okay, right? But I couldn’t remove the image of her muscle-ridden physique out of my head and her body became an obsession. I went home and looked her up online and downloaded every stage picture of her to my computer. I searched her nude and was unable to find anything substantial, so I went rogue and jumped into the water of full immersion.

Spending my waking hours looking up muscular women, categorizing and downloading their pictures obsession became the rule for me. I became familiar with chat rooms, message boards, and anything dealing with female bodybuilders. Eventually, my fingers found the familiar keywords search phrases “nude bodybuilder women,” “female muscle nude,” “dominant female muscle” or “female muscle clit” on their own. I attributed the deep dive to the years of keeping my muscle fantasies a secret and was guilt-ridden regarding Mary. Part of me knew she suspected and when she asked if she was fit enough for me, I praised her physique effusively– but I knew better. As much as I loved Mary with my brain and my heart, my cock wanted a different woman. Thankfully, somehow my brain won the battle and fought against me doing anything outright immoral. Felicity would remain an object of my desire, but I wouldn’t break my vows to Mary.

Finally, one night, I wrote a plea to Mary in my journal.  Yeah, I’m still one of those few men who write in their journals. In the previous few years, the entries had been scant, but it was a place where I could share my secret without fear of reprisals. The secret that I’d kept from her spawned another, lowered my self-esteem, and left me carrying a hefty load of shame along with rabid desires daily. To the reader, the entry was a call for help and a revelation.

Why am I this way? Was I born this way, or do I like muscular women because of some childhood event? For this, I have no answers only questions

What I know: I love the fact that they have crafted, through their own hard work, amazing bodies that hold tremendous power. I love their hardness. I love the curves and symmetry that muscles develop on them.

Why do I hold this secret and tell nobody? Because I’m scared. Scared of what people will think - scared of how people will act - scared of who’s feelings I’ll hurt. How would Mary feel to know that though I love her intensely, and we have sexual chemistry - but the body she inhabits is not ‘the one’ of my dreams?

I want her to be uncommonly muscular, - Great slabs of dense, mature muscle radiating across her body creating an almost freakish geometry of swells. Every cord of throbbing pumped flesh would expand beyond mine and dance in symphony with her slightest movements.

More than that, I want her to be stronger than me, - the visceral power radiating off her would intimidate and humble me.  In the bedroom, she’d be aggressive and needy using me as the reward for her hard labor in the weight room. I envision her getting home after a long hard workout, veins pumping over her hardened sweaty muscle, protein shake in hand, lying on the bed, spread eagle, uttering the phrase “pleasure me,” in her deep commanding voice.

I want her to be my physical superior in every way- and it will never be because I have no right to impose my desires on her. I’m scared of what she will think of me and if she will feel bad if I even tell her. Why am I so scared? I’m ashamed. So, I will go on happily but unfulfilled constantly dreaming of the She-Hulk that isn’t to be.


When I finished, I intentionally left my journal unlocked and out on top of my desk. Perhaps she would read it and we’d be forced to have the conversation. Mary was so respectful of my privacy though, so I figured it was highly unlikely Still, it felt good writing it down. It was as close as I could go to allowing her to unlock my secret, my pleasure, my passion, and my shame.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #5 on: January 22, 2023, 01:11:23 am »
Almost daily interaction with Felicity brought a cacophony of emotions to the surface along with a cascade of want. I read philosophy, conducted some online therapy, and even considered trying to find a way to let Felicity go. Deciding that firing her would be a personal failing and probably grounds for a lawsuit I finally decided instead to find a way to say no to her.

One philosopher that I read had concluded that “those who successfully hold themselves back from intense pleasure and pain” which Felicity surely caused on a daily basis “would achieve a kind of serene independence from the passions rather than gratify some deep or pressing desire.” Was that what the monks of the past tried to do? Didn’t I have the emotional strength to resist her within me? So far it had not manifested itself, but I decided I would have to try. Thinking about standing up to her in any fashion often cascaded out of control. Often it involved sitting at my desk visualizing what she could do to me physically. I imagined her in the weight room, veins swelling on her sweat-soaked muscles, rising in a tremendous pump as she repeatedly raised and lowered fifty-pound dumbbells.

Grunting and straining like she was the true man in the room, she’d pound rep after rep while I was beside her pumping pink fifteen-pounders. “Now,” she’d command, as her glistening body needed relief. I’d respond immediately dropping my ‘weights’ and wiping her brow and then spot her as her shaking muscles inflated like a balloon.

Try as I might to extricate myself from her shadow, a simple word or bulge beneath her thin skin and I’d be entranced. Like a moth to a flame, I found myself beside her desk finding a way to encourage her to talk about her strength and muscle while tracing her hard curves with my eyes.

“I overheard you talking about your workout tomorrow with your trainer. It sounds like a brutal one” I said, dropping a file on her desk, in an almost desperate maneuver to find an opening. She smiled at me, and it felt like my whole body grew lighter, my chest thumping in anticipation of her answer. She brushed her fingers through her hair, the callouses on her palms providing some friction with movement, causing her biceps to twitch and flare. Sweaty, vein filled biceps shimmered, filled with raw unadulterated power. My fingers longed to trace the fat vein running across the peak. God, you’re gorgeous.

“Yeah, Jason is putting me through a grinder tomorrow. He likes to shake up my endless reps where I tense my muscles without a break with occasional heavy days where I go hard and fast. Tomorrow, I’m maxing out on everything. You might have to carry me in here tomorrow,” she laughed. “Of course, I’m pushing two hundred now,” she laughed again. “Can you lift that kind of weight?”

I laughed, “probably not, what about you?” God, I say the dumbest things around her.

“Sure, benching, squatting, deadlifts, and probably even shoulder presses. I guess we’ll see tomorrow. You’ll have to come to watch me sometime, boss.” I’d totally lose it.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #6 on: January 29, 2023, 11:01:03 pm »
More from the short story The Secret in the book Muscle and Domme: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX
---

The next day, Felicity trudged in lacking energy for the first time in as long as I could remember. She’d been wasted by a brutal workout.

“I barely made it in, boss. I’m wiped.” Imposing, thick veins snaked across her dark and evenly tanned skin physique. Everywhere thick muscles bulged as if she could crush boulders with her brute force. Scanning the twisted muscularity rising from her frame, I longed to devour her imagining her as perfect as the first bite into a block of dark chocolate. My desire was overwhelming I was worried about my ability to resist her chime, even if she wasn’t purposefully using it on me.

When she marched into my office, stretched across my desk, and playfully asked for her shoulder massage, I literally shook in fear. She said it as if she owned both the desk and me.

“Hey boss, I could use a little kneading from your magic hands if you have a minute. My arms and shoulders are aching after that workout. I did the two hundred you asked for my shoulders too.” Placing her palms flat against the desk in a deep stretch, I was forced to look up at her bulging forearms, triceps, delts, and traps. I looked up at her and once again visibly shuddered, but this time in front of her. Her grin told me she saw my reaction. She was either already bigger than the week before or more massively pumped than I’d ever seen her. Traps seemed to explode up to her neck calling for my hands’ attention.

Teeth chattering, goosebumps cascading across my frame I huffed, barely audibly. “No, I think I’m too busy today.”

She cocked her head momentarily in disbelief. “Okay, well if you can’t massage me, I may have to knock off early and take care of some errands. I picked up a client and the gym today and need to check in with them.” It wasn’t like Felicity was a poor secretary, but when she didn’t get what she wanted from me she pouted and knew I was helpless to counteract her. This was but another example.

Again, I somehow found the fortitude to stand up to her. “Okay, but you need to finish the Forsythe file first. It shouldn’t take more than half an hour.”
For the first time, I saw anger behind her eyes but looked away to try to avoid a confrontation. By now my body was shaking in need and quaking in fear. She had to be more than twice as strong as me. If she hurt me physically, given my fragile sense of self-worth and awe at her physique I’d probably applaud her.
“How about I drop it off on your desk later after my errands?” she said, trying to enforce her authority.

“Okay, that should work” I gulped, accepting a tactical– or perhaps pyrrhic victory. Her eyes moved from me to my desk, and I thought I’d dodged a bullet. “You play tennis?” She asked, dumping a ball out of the can into her hand.

“Yeah, I love to play to get some exercise now and then. I’m not a superstar but I have a pretty good serve and backhand.”

“Really? I’d like to watch you sometime.” For a second I thought she was getting sexual, and I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. “I’ve never played but I used to use these for my kind of exercise.” She squeezed and the veins in her bulging forearms grew more pronounced instantly. “But now, I have to be careful with these or,” she released the grip from all of her fingers except her thumb and pinky before gritting her teeth and bearing down just as she said, “they break.” A pop reverberated around the room as the ball deflated under her pressure. The bulging cords of muscle in her forearms danced providing what could have been an anatomy lesson in strength and superior power.

“Oopsy, see what I mean.” She tossed it in the air, and it landed with a thud on my desk.

I gulped, “yep.” Yeah, pyrrhic at best.

“Okay, I’ll take the file and then head out.” Looking back on it now, I don’t think she was threatening me. But perhaps she was solidifying her position in the office setting. I wondered whether avoiding the bliss of massaging her shoulders because of my guilt was worth it, but at least it set a precedent that in the future I could look, but not touch, or so I thought.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #7 on: February 04, 2023, 05:14:02 pm »
Doesn't seem to be much interest in this one but I'll post another one or two segments...
More from the short story The Secret in the book Muscle and Domme: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX

---

I had barely opened the door to the house when a loud voice rang out yelling, “What the Hell is this?” Mary stood there with my journal in hand, her eyebrows stitched together, eyes swimming in tears, and cheeks red in anger. I’d never seen her so angry. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that my play with the journal had not gone as forecast.

“What do you mean?” I said stupidly, trying to figure out how much she knew before I fell in too deep.

“C’mon Jim. People don’t lie in their journals. You’ve been lusting over big, brawny, she-men all these years. You tell me.”

I ignored her slight on my taste in strong women and considered my options. My only defense seemed to lay in feigning anger for invading my private diary. “It’s my diary, how could you,” I said, putting as much hurt into my voice as I could muster.

Her response was devastating. “Don’t give me that. It’s like you invited me to read it, putting it next to our planner on your desk unlocked with the page marked.”

“But…”

“But what? I think the fact that you left it so available makes it even worse. It’s as if you wanted me to read it because my body doesn’t please you anymore so I could change for you.”

“No,” I protested knowing that her words were spot on but denying it nonetheless.

“I guess you’re right,” she said, momentarily relieving my panic before twisting the knife. “You never liked my body. You wanted some roided-out freak who would throw you around the bedroom like some kind of masochist. I feel like I’ve been lied to all these years.”

“I’m sorry. I have a right to keep some secrets in a marriage, don’t I?”

“Sure, but not when the whole relationship is based on a lie.”

“It’s not a lie. You know I like your body. You know I get turned on.”

“Yeah, by what, imagining long ass clits and nude muscular women when you’re thrusting inside of me?” My ears started throbbing and my cheeks heated what had to be an almost purplish hue. Had I left a search history up that wasn’t private? My breaths started coming in short measured bursts as I bordered on panic.

“Muscular women clits,” she said, turning the figurative knife one last time. Fuck!

“I think I know it all but I want to hear you say it. Tell me your secret Jim… all of it. Don’t you dare lie to me after all these years! Tell me what the woman of your dreams looks like.

I hesitated and gulped. Would telling Mary prove to be a cathartic cleanse after all of these years or the end of a relationship with the woman I loved? Perhaps, I suspected, it would be both. After holding my secret tightly to my vest for so long, I decided to go down in flames by telling the truth.

“Okay, you’re right. I want to start by saying that I do find you attractive and a turn-on,” She started to shake her head and speak but I cut her off. “I’m telling you the truth about my secret after all these years of embarrassment so please don’t doubt me. To say this isn’t easy is an understatement.“ God, what was I thinking with that journal ploy?

“Okay,” she breathed, relenting and letting me continue.

“But, I’m sorry I’m totally embarrassed to say this, but yeah, I like really strong women.”

She crossed her arms in disappointment. “C’mon, you owe me the whole truth. Stronger than you? That’s what you said. Tell me everything or I’m walking out!”

My shoulders slumped, a deep sigh escaped me, and then, fighting back tears, I just let it all out. “Yes, stronger than me and I like them big too. And yes, I'll be honest...I find a long clit attractive. It’s not that I’m gay–- though there’s nothing wrong with that. I’m just attracted to, I don’t know if I had to say, masculine-looking women. Women who are stronger and bigger than me. But it’s just a fantasy, nothing I expect in the real world.”

Is that it?”

“Yes.” I ground my teeth in worry waiting to see what she would do next. She thinks you’re a freak. How could you let her find out? You’re a pervert, a deviant.

She cocked her head in confusion. "I just don't get it. What is it about the muscle? I mean, it doesn’t make sense."

"I don't know." A quick glare from Mary ended my lies. "I guess it’s the fact that women have to work so hard to get the muscle. The tissue is so hard and angular in contrast to the smooth soft skin. Maybe it’s something about it being so opposite."

"And?" she asked, coaxing out the rest.

"The idea that a woman could be so strong when by nature they're not supposed to be is a bit humbling and a turn-on. I mean I’ve seen a woman lift a car. Somehow the idea is just chilling.” I stopped right as I was going to really get into it. The idea that she’d throw me against the bed, hold me down, and belittle me for being the weak one. Mmm. I could be strong but she would be superhumanly strong. My eyes momentarily went glassy as my mind ran away with the idea, but I refocused on Mary who I seemed to catch thinking deeply about the situation.

“Okay, thanks for at least telling me the truth. Sleep on the couch tonight. I think I need some time to process this.” And with that, she walked out. I sagged into the couch and tucked myself into the fetal position in shame. While she didn’t bring it up again for quite some time, our relationship changed drastically that day, and initially not for the better

Offline ArkhamAsylum

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #8 on: February 07, 2023, 07:56:25 pm »
I' m definitely going to buy the book once I'm able to do so.

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #9 on: February 12, 2023, 06:52:43 am »
Thanks Arkham - please review if you purchase it. More from the short story The Secret in the book Muscle and Domme: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX

Like a spider drawing its prey into a web, Felicity played with her hair, flexing her heaving biceps as she did so, tightening her pecs as she laughed, and captivating my attention. I shook in fear of Mary’s reaction when Felicity left but found myself unable to steer my gaze from the aura of muscle before me. Surely, both of them sensed my arousal from these subtle displays of her remarkable physicality.

My eyes moved involuntarily over Felicity’s beautiful canvas as she twisted, shifted, and flexed. Each ever-so-slight movement snapped my eyes to attention at whatever feature she was highlighting next. It was almost as if she were proving to Mary how much control she had over me. I could almost hear her crowing, “look lady, it’s me rather than you who is the true object of your husband’s desires. If I had any control, I might have been angry, but I was enraptured by the display of muscularity in front of me. And then it got worse.

“So, Felicity was just telling me that she used to be a powerlifter,” Mary noted.

“Is that so?” I asked, playing dumb.

“Yeah, she thinks she’s still stronger than most men.” She looked over to Felicity who, as if on cue, launched into a clowning most muscular pose, grunting as she did so. Her massive pectorals pressed her voluminous implants against the straining dress. A vast network of veins emerged across her upper body and snaked down across her chest. The swell of her bosom, a deep cleft between them was too much, too true, too perfect. The final crescendo of my lusting gaze was the fashion in which her hard nipples pushed against the material, commanding my attention. She finally released the pose with a cackling laugh, shaking her pecs in a different but equally alluring fashion.

“I don’t doubt it,” I murmured, unable to shut my trap.

“Well let’s see. Felicity, you wouldn’t mind arm wrestling him, would you?” Mary asked forcefully.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied with truly false modesty.

“Nonsense, I insist,” Mary demanded.

“Do I get a say in this?” I asked.

“No,” Mary responded, without a trace of sarcasm in her voice. “Let’s see how strong my man, my protector is.” Sarcasm now laced her voice in an almost recriminating fashion. Mary moved over to give me space and showed me where to sit. Reluctantly, I followed her order. We locked grips and I looked into her captivating green eyes. They had a look of absolute glee in them, and she had a confident grin on her face. Felicity's fingers tensed upon mine and the roots of her forearm muscle bellies rippled and shifted as her intense grip tightened on me before she playfully released. My teeth ground and I flinched in pain but somehow managed to hide it from Mary.

She too was giddy with excitement and when the two of us looked ready, Mary proclaimed, “Go!” and the match began. In an instant, I knew it was over. Felicity’s shapely bicep tightened into a vein-smothered boulder of power. Her smooth leverage pulled me down as I struggled like a helpless kitten until my hand was pressed firmly into submission just seconds after we began. My cock throbbed with the fierce display of her power.

“Uh, good match,” I declared, trying to be a good sport. It was nothing of the sort. Suddenly, I felt a hand wrap itself around my throbbing cock in my slacks. Mary was checking to see how hard I was. Fuck.

As my eyes rose to look at her in defeat though, I noticed her hand folded under her chin considering what had just happened. The other kept squeezing me. Seconds later my cock erupted in one of the quickest and fiercest orgasms I’d ever had. My head shook and my eyes flickered but I willed my body not to move to hide the intensity of my eruption from Felicity. Mary’s hand milked every last job before she removed it as if nothing had happened.

“You see. It can be done and rather easily.” Felicity noted.

“Yeah, wow,” Mary said, her mouth still agape. It was like her hand was holding up her bottom jaw so it wouldn’t fall off.

“And I’m not even training for strength right now. I am focused only on getting these bad boys bigger.” She raised her arm, flexed her enormous biceps, and twisted her wrist back and forth in the victory salute.

“I guess so.”

“I’m going to train, Mary,” Felicity said. “We were talking, and she expressed an interest in getting stronger than you too.”

“Ha, ha.” I laughed, sweating bullets. How much had Mary told her?

“I’ll have her stronger than you in no time, but it’s going to cost you, Boss.”

Shaking, I tried to play it cool. “Oh yeah? How is that?”

“I’m going to be buying her the supplements she needs and might need to take an extra hour off in the morning to train her.”

“Two,” Mary corrected.

“So, you might as well just come in after lunch,” I joked.

“That sounds good,” she winked. My breath caught. Was she holding the shoulder massages over me and subtly threatening to tell if I didn’t give her a full day’s wage for a half day’s work?”

“Whatever Mary needs,” I said, saving myself from additional drama.

“As it should be,” Felicity said. “We girls need to stick together, right?”

“Darn right,” Mary said.

The girls proceeded to tease me in a good-natured way for the next twenty minutes. Jabs like, “oh, men seem like they’re the stronger sex, but it’s totally a facade. It’s almost like the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz. If you really want this, Mary, I can have you stronger than the boss in no time.”

“That sounds fun,” she responded. “Then if he does anything wrong, I can beat him into submission,” she laughed, as if it were a joke, but I sensed the warning tone beneath. After being the butt of their jokes for what seemed like an eternity, finally, my agony ended when Felicity needed to depart to go on a date. The two of them hugged and Felicity’s massiveness seemed to almost engulf Mary. Their bodies intertwined was a feast for the eyes. Felicity’s hardened form, full of swells, and her hardened nipples brushing pleasurably against Mary’s lithe, soft, curvy form was a slice of heaven.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #10 on: February 24, 2023, 04:49:09 am »
Another small excerpt from the short story The Secret in the short story anthology Muscle and Domme: www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX  Let me know if you'd like me to continue:
----

Immediately after the door closed, I turned to Mary ready to ask her whether her desire to get stronger than me was real. The extended conversation between the two women suggested a deep interest. Perhaps, after all these years she’d decided to go all out, and Felicity had been the motivation. Instead, I watched her slam her fists into the table, “so your wife isn’t stronger than you, so you go out and hire someone to be that woman?” Yes.

“No, she’s just a secretary.” I cringed as I said the words. It sounded so paternal and yet defending myself was paramount at that moment.

“I don’t buy that for one second,” she said, glaring at me and crossing her arms in anger.

“Well, it’s true. I mean, it might have played a little part in the hire,” I admitted, “but she’s been a good secretary.”

“And there has never been?”

“No, I promise. Never.” She’d never want a freak like me.

“You’d better not. Just because we’re not… doesn’t give you a license to...”

“I know. Do you want me to fire her?”

“No,” she relented. “I just wish you hadn’t hired her in the first place. Watch yourself though. Given your… proclivities I’m sure it’s hard with her.” You have no idea.

“I’m careful. Don’t worry. Do you really want to get stronger than me?” I asked hopefully.

“No, I was just angry, so I said it to increase your embarrassment. I’m not doing anything to feed your desires. I want to get stronger, but for me not for you.” Awesome, good enough for me.

“Well, seriously, whatever you need to help, you let me know.”

“Don’t get too hopeful or I might stop lifting altogether.” Clearly, my journal revelation was still hurting her, and I needed to tread gingerly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, bringing a grin to her face with the way I stood at attention military style with my heels together and fingers on my forehead.

“That’s better,” she smiled, giving in. I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed to the shower to clean up.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #11 on: February 27, 2023, 01:12:39 am »
More from the short story The Secret  in the book Muscle and Domme: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX
---
Without a doubt, Mary started to gain size and likely strength within a few weeks. Unfortunately, I saw little of her results due to a combination of her baggy clothes and my ban from the bedroom.  My imagination went into overdrive from reading one too many female muscle growth fiction stories over the years. But when I finally saw a brief glimpse of her skin one morning before she hopped in the shower, though she was certainly more solid, I knew my fantasies were far ahead of reality.

All thoughts of my wife’s firming physique were soon torn asunder by a workplace decision. As senior Vice-president I could have said no when the company needed a 14-month gig in Las Vegas. The entertainment corporation we represented was starting several new shows and I would be their sole legal counsel. Daily meetings and on-site reviews would require an in-person representative and Zoom just wouldn’t work. When the offer arrived, I came home and discussed it with Mary. The bonus pay for the project was so good that I could retire shortly after I returned.

We discussed the pros and cons for days and the opportunity for Mary to come with me. Instead, she decided in the end that she could use the opportunity to find herself after all of these years. The kids were in college and her entire identity had revolved around them. She was starting to get into writing and some time away from me could allow her to decide if we could repair our relationship completely or if she needed a new direction. I must admit I shed a few tears over her decision, but we agreed that we would Facetime regularly and write letters to share our feelings more completely with one another.

Felicity, however, made an entirely different decision that at least allowed me to not have to start anew in the new city. She would move to Vegas with me where she could live more fully in the bodybuilding scenes and prepare to capture the Ms. Universe the following year. She would also Facetime with Mary about her workouts.

I had thought that my time in Vegas would be more akin to being in prison than a vacation, but events soon showed otherwise. My firm signed a deal to put me up in a penthouse suite just off the strip –– paid for by the client of course. Felicity stayed in an adjoining side of the penthouse in a fairly elaborate room behind a joint door.

She soon managed to attract a cadre of friends who were thickly laden with muscle who used her place as a meeting hall. Initially, I found the idea of a locked door between us an incredible temptation that could lead to an unfortunate situation, but though we grew closer things stayed mostly professional.

Our lunchtime shoulder massages migrated slowly to pre-bedtime massages that sometimes led to different body parts. It wasn’t that my hands didn’t appreciate tracing her massive, rounded shoulders before pinching up to her bulbous traps, but getting to explore the hardness and power of her wonderful physique was a treat– one that led to nightly masturbation sessions remembering the glory of her soft skin and hard muscle. In the evening I could stand atop her, close my eyes, and let my fingers take in the shredded ridges of muscle sculpting her upper back and traps.

“Can you put a little more leverage into it?” She asked one evening.

“Only if I straddled you,” I joked.

“Do what you need to do,” she said matter of factly. Hesitantly, I lay on the small of her back and enormous glutes and dug into her back armor. To me, it seemed like I was still incapable of penetrating the muscle enough to give her relief, but her sighs of pleasure begged to differ. She had the good sense not to mention my hard member when it dug into her back. Soon, the pose became a regular for our massages.

Occasionally, Felicity would massage my shoulders and neck in return for my endeavors. Her powerful grip quickly broke down my stress so my time touching her body was always longer. I never went to a body part that she didn’t first suggest and avoided her erogenous zones, but just touching her would rile me up. Eventually, as we grew more comfortable with one another, her suggestions progressively led toward more sensitive areas.

I hoped that my close contact would satisfy my stupid craving to be near her, to touch her rock-hard curves, but it only had the opposite effect. I wanted her more. She swirled in my thought’s day and night. In my dreams she progressively became more dominant, breaking into my room, scooping me up in her muscular arms as if I were an infant, and carrying me back to her bedroom. Throwing me on the bed with the force of a freight train she pushed me aside, jumped onto the bed, and spat at me like I were worthless “Use your only hard body part on me now, Boss,” she commanded, “and give me the fuck I need.” Again and again, I’d thrust deeply inside of her imagining her low sound of approval.

Only in dreams would I get sexual with her but sitting atop her glorious butt eventually led me to work on Felicity’s glutes for the first time. Alternating between gently kneading the mighty muscles and stroking the gentle curves I was in heaven and her frequent coos demonstrated she was enjoying it too.

“Your hands feel so good, boss.” She purred. “Could you work on my inner thighs a bit? I did a bunch of ‘good girls’ yesterday squeezing each of them out and now they’re aching. I love the feeling of squeezing things so I gotta work on these babies. I’ve maxed out the machine and it still isn’t enough, so I ended up doing two sets of fifty yesterday.” She reached back, spread her legs, and grabbed the bulging muscles between her thighs. Immediately I imagined my neck between her marvelous muscles squeezing until I cried out for mercy.

“Sure,” I responded, wetting my lips in anticipation. When she removed her hand and revealed the soaked small piece of fabric that she had hiding her prize I realized how much she was enjoying the experience as well. I was overwhelmed by her scent and wetness and longed to furiously slide my tongue to pleasure her, but instead somehow maintained my cool. I kneaded with one hand and then both. The shredded muscles, broken by her furious workout were knotted and laden with lactic acid and I did my best to relieve her stress. My eyes, however, fixated on her bulge and the river of wetness that flowed from her.

Eventually, my fingers felt the wetness and she flipped over to hide her embarrassment. The evening had grown long in the tooth and the filtered sunlight on her muscular body made her symmetry even more alluring. Her warm skin, along with the chill of the air-conditioned room, revealed proud pecs with a proud bullet-like nipple sitting atop. Pressed against her tiny black satin bikini top like an offering her emerald, green eyes caught mine gravitating toward her chest. My cheeks blushed crimson in seconds. I’m human right?

“Can you massage my upper pecs?” she whispered in hush tones like she was hiding her words from someone. “The pec dec machine and bench yesterday floored me. A breathy grunt of exertion later and she quickly flexed them.” Meaty pecs, which seemed to be made only of muscle, tensed, adding several inches of depth to the cleavage.  Her silky bikini top looked ready to burst. Need surged through me. My fingers moved involuntarily, but I was able to somehow hold back.

“Are you afraid of me or something?” She smiled at me with a slightly quizzical look as I hesitated. Yes! My cock screamed as it throbbed against my shorts, pre-seminal fluid now coating the top. Everything on her body looked dry with the grainy fibers of the rippled muscle seeming to dance and catch the light with her slightest movement.

“Um, no. I’m just...um… you’re so pretty and I’m, uh…”

“Attractive but too old for me?” She offered with a catlike grin. Steel yourself. The flirt in her voice was whimsical so I wasn’t sure whether she was kidding or not, but I began physically shaking. I wanted her so badly but knew I’d skated past that line from desire toward outright betraying my wife. My teeth began chattering involuntarily, “I like older men, especially ones who are smart and take care of themselves.”

“I’m married,” I choked through trembling lips.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #12 on: March 20, 2023, 04:24:21 am »
Here is a little more from the short story The Secret in the book Muscle and Domme: www.amazon.com/dp/B0BRX1D4VX

“Oh, get over yourself,” she said. “I’m not asking you for a titty feel. It’s just a massage.”

“Well, um, but.”

“Just massage above here near my underarms.” she pointed to the area up to where her luscious skin disappeared behind the tiny black bikini top. I hesitated again; my will was nearly broken. “Please,” she repeated.

“Okay, but just up there,” I said motioning to her upper chest.

“I’ll tell you where to touch and where not to,” she smiled. My fingers moved toward her before my mind could decide if she was truly flirting or just teasing me. Fingers kneading, probing, feeling the hard outlines of her muscles. I’d never felt anything more glorious and the power in her chest had to be incredible. I need to go watch her workout.

Firm, strong, invulnerable tissue pressed back as if playing with me. A prickling traveled down my body - a need so fierce I could hardly breathe. A rush of color swamped to my face once more as my hands moved from the upper chest under her arms and neared the forbidden area under her bikini top.

Finally, I drew back, proud of my fortitude and worried that I might have already violated my vows. Just as I did, a familiar ring chime sounded, Mary. “I gotta go.”

                                                             *     *    *     *

“Really?” I pushed aside the curtains trying to distract myself from her request. Looking outside at the moment the sun touched the horizon was always a bit surreal in Vegas. A fiery orange hue radiated across the strip temporarily muting the ever-present lights of sin city.

“Yes, I need this from you, Jim,” Mary responded, with supremely earnest urging.

“I want to do whatever you need, Mary, but let me just tell you I have zero interest in telling a complete stranger about my…”

“Muscle fantasy fetish?” she finished.

“Not what I was planning on saying, but yeah, my secret. How is this going to help us again?”

“We need couples therapy to get through this. I think it will help establish my trust in you again.” I’ve never cheated on you and never would. And believe me, the temptation is incredibly high.

“Okay,” I breathed, rolling my eyes as I did so. I had no desire to do the therapy, but I realized that she needed it for me and that I probably needed it myself. At the same time, I highly doubted I could be ‘cured’ of my addiction to muscular women and given the surreal fashion it set me off wasn’t sure I wanted to be.

“Okay?” she asked almost in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Thank you, honey.” She said, relief sewn into her lilty voice.

“I love you. I’m sorry you need this, but I think I can understand why. Maybe it will cure me,” I laughed uncomfortably.

“I love you.”

“But not as I am… and I understand that. I’m sorry.” The brief moment of silence between us confirmed my statement.

“Okay, honey. I’ll get back to you regarding when the zoom session will be.”

“Okay, love you.” As I hung up the phone, I unsuccessfully held back tears– tears of guilt, tears of sorrow, tears of love. A few seconds later there was a soft knock at the joint door. It was as if Felicity sensed my hurt and had come to relieve it– or in some ways enhance it. Hesitantly, wiping back tears, I went and opened it.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #13 on: March 31, 2023, 04:07:54 am »
There before me in a tiny golden bikini that left nothing to the imagination was Felicity. Slathered in suntan oil her thick legs and muscular arms flexing glistened. Stretched taut over every curve and bulge of her sculpted body, the satin material hugged her tanned full muscular bosom and broad back. The minuscule fabric left nothing to the imagination.

As she slathered herself in suntan oil, her thick legs and muscular arms  glistened in the sun, the oil making her skin appear even more radiant and glowing. The top was so small that the contrast between her tanned muscular pectorals was sharp compared to virginal white which peeked out from beneath the material.

Her whole body was slathered in tanning oil that highlighted every one of her muscular curves. Abs rippled, shoulders flared, and her lats bulged like wings even though she was still months away from the Miss Universe contest. My eyes drank her in like cool water from a canteen on a hot summer’s day. Her size was fantastic but the symmetry of her thick shoulders, tiny waist, and long athletic legs was jaw-dropping. She represented raw, carnal power during the moment of my life when I felt my most powerless. Without a word, she knew that I’d do anything she asked.

What does she think of me, I wondered. Does she know that I’m a schmoe or as some people call us ‘buffs?’ We worshipped women of her size and beauty strictly for their physicality. That kind of lust could never lead to a fulfilling relationship. But with Felicity did I feel more? How would the notion of being held up on some pedestal feel to a woman like Felicity? You’re weird, you’re strange, you’re a deviant.

“C’mon, you need a break. We’re going to the pool.” I nodded my affirmation before I knew I was responding. The sprawling pool complex of our hotel was like a waterpark. The way Felicity looked would draw stares. How could it not? The power she radiated was visceral. Serpentine sinewy swirls of raw power tightly wound their way around chiseled blocks of rigid muscle forming a physique of heavenly curves. Every head would turn to look at her and the inadequate man walking beside her. There would be literal gasps and stares from the pool-goers.

It took every ounce of fortitude I had remaining to tell her, “I’ll meet you there.”

“Be quick,” she commanded before turning and marching out. I put on a swimsuit and looked in the mirror to see how obvious my erection was in my shorts. Quickly enough, I decided the cause was hopeless, threw on a tank top, and rode the chilly air-conditioned elevator down to the pool.

When I arrived on the busy pool deck, it was as I expected. Eyes strained to see the hard angular peaks of Felicity’s physique in the hot tub. Despite the hubbub, her hot tub was empty. It was likely abandoned so people could stare at a form that was almost supernatural from a comfortable distance. I pulled up a chair beside the hot tub and draped my towel atop me to hide my steel-hard erection. She wouldn’t have it.

“Get… in!” She commanded as if it were a royal pronouncement. Without hesitation, I slid into the large tub across from her turning as I entered to avoid the obvious display in my crotch.

“Aww,” I breathed as the jets hit my aching back.

“I know. It feels good, doesn’t it?  You need to relax more often, boss.” There was warmth and concern in her words that I wasn’t expecting. We sat there for about five minutes awkwardly avoiding eye contact as I snuck glances at her brick house body with wide, muscular shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist below the bubbling water.

Finally, she moved the situation forward. “You are so stressed. I just knew you needed this. Come closer.”

Like a magnet, I was propelled forward. I approached the middle of the tub moving hesitantly toward her when the show began.

The sensation of  her warm, taut skin against my fingertips as I reached out to touch her  was electrifying.  And then, as she looked at me with a knowing grin, I knew that she was  fully aware of the effect she was having on me. It was as if she was  daring me to resist her seductive power. But I was helpless to do so, as  my gaze remained locked on her mesmerizing display of muscle control.

As if it were as casual as sipping a cup of coffee, Felicity's chest muscles began to roll and twitch with seductive  grace, I couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of desire. The sight of  her bulging, ripped pectoral muscles dancing in an erotic and  choreographed display was utterly mesmerizing.

Each flex of the swollen, ripped pectoral muscles thrust thick cords of meat against her straining suit. The perfectly spherical implants atop, a necessity for the contest judges, jiggled entirely at her will, creating an almost hypnotic effect. It was unlike anything I’d seen on the internet and more reminiscent of some kind of computer-orchestrated morph that might be seen on some art website. With each pulse, fibers beneath her skin rippled up and down in a sexy rhythm.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw her look at me with a knowing grin. I knew that she was  fully aware of the effect she was having on me. It was as if she was  daring me to resist her seductive power. But I was unable to deflect my gaze.

“This… this has to stay asexual,” I managed, closing the gap between us further, my eyes locked to her pecs. Her mesmerizing dance continued unabated.

“Oh, it will… as long as I want it to at least, boss. I just know what a tough time you're going through being away from her. I kind of see it as my duty to keep you loyal to her by having you think of me when you go to bed.” Does that even make sense?

“You beat off to me every night, don’t you, boss?” Her question was so wildly inappropriate I froze. Of course, I do. How could I not with your mountains of muscle, punctuated only by rivets of striations, vascularity, and swells of sinews? It was only natural that my body responded with an almost primal urgency.

“I don’t think… I’m not sure this is an appropriate conversation between two people in the same organization.”

“Knock off the legalese, boss. We’re two friends and you will answer the question. Now!”

Helplessly I sighed, I admitted the truth,“Yes… every night.” My defeat now total.

“Once?” she winked, moving forward and pressing the taut skin of her chest against my fingertips. The sensation of her warm, hard body was electrifying.

“Usually twice,” I admitted, all of my pride now buried.

Offline taoschild

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Re: Muscle & Domme
« Reply #14 on: April 22, 2023, 04:07:56 am »
“I thought so,” her grin of conquest now beaming. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. I love it when you massage me not just because you’re good at it but because your hard-on is so big, I think of you too at night. Last night, I actually called out your name, boss, when I thrust that hard dildo deep inside my tight wet pussy. That’s why I was so… ready today.” My eyes bulged and a lump caught in my throat. I couldn’t breathe let alone respond.

With that, she turned, and her triceps flared as she pushed herself out of the water, grabbed a towel, wrapped herself in it, and walked away. Her swaying hips, chunked diamond-shaped calves, and bulging hamstrings left little doubt that she was the most powerful person in the pool facility.  As if performing a show for everyone her glutes popped and flexed as they pinched up against the bottom of her bikini for all leering eyes. She was so sexy at that moment that the image was emblazoned on my brain for hours. It took me a good twenty minutes for my erection to subside before I too could leave the hot tub– albeit in a much less dramatic fashion.

*  *  *

“I love Mary and her alone… It’s just that, I don’t know, it’s like my brain shuts off and it’s like a lower brain function of desire and fear takes over my body. I mean there is a literal physical reaction. My breath gets short. My heart beats like a racing stallion, and sometimes I get goosebumps… and there is always another reaction.” I stared at the fuzzy screen of the doctor and my wife’s face. It had gotten easier to talk during the therapy appointments, but some things were still awkward.

“I'm pretty sure I get the drift,” Mary said, her voice tinged with disgust. “So do you get that way with Felicity?”

I breathed out a long sigh. “Yes,” I whispered in defeat.

“And I know how you are,” she said disgustedly. “It’s what drew me to you. The empathetic touching and gentle massaging. Have you ever?”

“What?” I asked, waiting for the specifics.

“Massaged her?” Fuck.

“I’ve relieved some stress when she’s asked but I swear nothing more,” I said, closing my eyes in shame.

“And why did you do that when you know it might hurt your wife’s feelings?” The doctor asked in an almost clinical tone.

“I guess part of it is like my wife says. It’s just the way I am, but I’m sure part of it is my cratalania.”

“Cratolagnia,” he corrected.

“Yeah that. I mean I just can’t help myself. It’s like my lower brain takes over.”

“What if she asked you to go to bed with her,” Mary asked.

“I wouldn’t. My loyalty to you wouldn’t permit it. You know that, Sweetie.” I pleaded.

“I’d like to think so, but the animal magnetism you describe…” she trailed off.

“I promise, Mary. I know this has been tough on you– on both of us– but it’s always been just you.” Her grimace wasn’t entirely believing but at least she didn’t outright disagree with me.

The doctor cut again to break up the silence. “I think we recognize a few basic facts. It’s highly unlikely that Jim’s Cratolagnia and Sthenolagnia will suddenly disappear. It’s built into him like genetic code.”

He paused for a second to let the statement sink in. Relief coursed through me. If Mary could accept me as I was then maybe… I studied her face trying to read her emotions and all I could see was that she was lost in thought. “But, at the same time, how you respond to your urges, no matter how overpowering, is within your control.” My eyes flitted down. It was my turn to think. Things with Felicity had obviously gone to the brink.

As bad as it was, at least our time was coming to an end, and I thought I’d escaped the worst of it. I watched the seconds tick off on an old analog clock above my computer. Run time, run. “Our time is coming to an end,” Thank God. “But this isn’t only about your feelings, Jim. Remember that your fetish also affects your wife. Remember that she loves you and seeks to please you too.”

“Yeah, I know, and I know this is hard on her, so I appreciate her tremendously.”

“But do you really know?” he continued. Isn’t the time over? I hesitated. “Do you hope she will get stronger than you? I think that she deserves an answer.”

Fuck. I had hoped to escape the truly uncomfortable questions but now, at the end of the hour they were rolling in. “I mean I’d like it, but I wouldn’t ever expect it. It’s just a fantasy I don’t expect to actually happen.” Mary looked like she was on the verge of tears. Fuck!

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