Mrs. Lockwood

[Ncsn]

Sorry, I hiccuped.

Oh, man, that must have been quite the binge... Thank you for the kind words, and I hope you'll like it as it develops.

[Ncsn]

Chapter Six
Melanie Lockwood

The Fox’s scream woke her up before dawn. She lay in bed, cursing, as the animal repeated its call several times, then went quiet. She turned around to watch her husband and muttered softly “You have GOT to be kidding me!”. She could wake her husband from his slumber with the touch of her finger – he would jump up, o to 60 in seconds, bulbous cock at full mast, ready to play; but have the whole red fox population of North Carolina congregate in their back yard, serenading each other – heck, have a jet plane crashing next to their house! – her bear of a husband might mumble something unintelligible under his breath, and just keep on snoring…
She sighed, knowing that there was no point trying to go back to sleep; she was just too wound up. She picked up the iPad from her nightstand and started searching the web for ways of dealing with foxes.

Brad woke up just before 7. He opened his eyes, and for a moment he just laid there, taking in one of the most amazing sights in the world: his wife’s body. She had her back to him, the light of the hidden iPad the only indication she was awake. He half rose, his head resting on his elbow, and took the tour: gigantic shoulders running into the V-shaped back, tapering down to an almost-human sized waist, only to slope perilously high over her beachball-sized buttocks and go careening down the gentle slope of her thighs… He moved into her body, his erect penis fitting comfortably between her butt cheeks, his hand on her thigh. He kissed her softly on her side, just under her arm, and said: “Those morons in Six Flags could save so much money on construction…”
She said, not turning her head: “And a very good morning to you too, Mr. Lockwood”.
He grunted, moving his butt slightly, loving the feeling of his dick sliding slowly between those two meaty mounds… “I mean, they could just use you as a roller coaster, people will flock from all over the world…”
“Yeah, I got that,” she said. She clenched her muscular buttocks, eliciting a yelp from her husband. “Damn foxes woke me up two hours ago. I swear, I’m going to find that den and…
“And nothing,” he said. “Nothing you can do. Protected animal.”
“Yeah, and who’s protecting me?! I’m the one paying taxes, why the heck…”
“Hey.” He moved up a little, snuggling close into her titanic body, his arm going over, hugging the heavy armour of her abs. “What is this about? You’re stressing out about the meeting, right?”

She was silent for a moment, her buttocks wiggling a little, seeking his dick. He obliged, fitting his fully erect cock into its most comfortable resting place, the head running up against her lower back. She sighed contentedly, her arm moving back, the rough palm caressing his hairy thigh softly.
“I was thinking about those nights at the hospital – sitting there, watching him with all those tubes sticking into him, those nights when he could hardly breath…” her voice broke. He hugged her, his face on her shoulder, silent. She sighed, deeply, and spoke: “I’d sometime break down, go into the bathroom and just cry… I felt so… so helpless…”
She went silent again. He said nothing, just holding her.
“I’d come home in the morning, send you and the kids off, and then I’d go down to the basement, work out like crazy for hours… You could never understand it, begged me to get some real sleep – but I just couldn’t… I hated it, this feeling of helplessness, I couldn’t stand it, I couldn’t stand not being able to help my baby, not being able to protect my family, I had to do SOMETHING!”
She stopped. Brad buried his face in her herculean deltoid, hugging her tight, both quiet for a long moment. When he spoke it was slowly, deliberately, choosing his words carefully. “There are some things no man – or even super-woman – can control. You couldn’t prevent Dylan getting that disease, but you never gave up, you fought for two years, never giving in to the despair, even when the doctors told you it’s over, even when I was ready to give up – and you won. Our son is only alive because of YOU. NEVER forget that.”
She turned to him now, an avalanche of mountainous, craggy muscle flowing, her body now facing him, her luscious breasts brushing against his chest, her face full of pain. “I know I did. I’m proud of what I did. But right after that, I went out and took this insane job, and put ALL of our family in danger. No act of god – just me, being a moron…”
He stroked her face, his heart going out to her, his love for her almost too painful to bear. “Baby – you couldn’t have known, you were in such a bad way – WE were in a bad way, and you just needed it so much!”
She leaned in, kissing him softly on his lips. “Well, YOU knew. You told me it was a bad idea, not to take it.”
He shrugged. "Don’t be too hard on yourself. You needed it, we were close to losing our home…”
“Yeah, and I mostly just wanted to hurt people. Don’t forget THAT.”
“Never could. I think we’ve already established that you’re a psycho…”
Her hand was stroking his chest, her fingers playing with his abundant coat of hair. “A psycho who has outsmarted herself…” She pulled on a bunch of hair, smiled at the squeal it elicited. “Sorry, sweetie, that hair is just driving me wild…” She looked at him, her gaze serious. “I thought I was calling the shots, doing what I liked to do, loved people being terrified of me, loved being IN CONTROL – but it was all a lie. When I said ‘No’, that son of a bitch just pulled my strings, and I had no choice, no say – I just played for him…”
Her hand bunched into a fist, her fingernails biting deep into her skin. “And I now realize just how much all of you are in this, exposed… It’s like this smooth-talking bastard has this sword hanging over this house, over all of us…”
She was silent for a few moments, thinking. Howard Collins had to pay for Donnie Mercer, but it couldn’t be just this; her family needed to be protected. She spoke again, slowly: “I don’t know exactly how, yet, but this man is going to pay. Today is the first step, my first move. It will be done.”

He looked at her, awe in his eyes, saying nothing. Never once, in all the 27 years he had known her, did this woman make him feel anything but safe… He knew that other side, the one that made grown men pee themselves at the very sight of her, but he knew that as long as he had this woman by is side, there was no man in the world he was afraid of. He took her hand in his and bent forward, kissing her breast.
“I know it will, baby,” He said, quietly. “If there’s anyone in the world who can take care of this, it’s you.”

She smiled, her mood cheering up, as it always did when speaking to her husband. “We’ll see… But, anyway, thanks for not saying ‘I told you so’. You had every right to…”
Brad moved into her, hugging her buttocks, his manhood sliding up against her abs. “Wasn’t too hard. When your wife can bench 400 Lb. you tend to be extra careful what you say to her…”
“mmm… This wife you’re speaking of…“ Melanie’s hips were now moving, almost imperceptibly, gently grinding her abs against her husband’s stiff manhood. “this wife… She sounds really capable…”
Brad grunted, his hips moving to match her rhythm, his veiny cock massaging her engorged clit. “Oh, that she is… nothing she can’t handle…”
“Not sure, baby… it’s a bad one, the worst yet…”
“IS it now…”
“Oooh, yeah… I need him, baby… I need the old pussy runner… I need your magic…”

As he was climbing his wife’s Bunyanesque thighs, her rough palm guiding his throbbing cock into her waiting pussy, Brad Lockwood had a fleeting mental vision of his boss sitting alone in the meeting room, waiting in vain for his chief engineer to make their 8:30 meeting. As she smiled up at him, lips half-parted, her strong hands gentle against his hips as he rammed his manhood into her, he thought, happily: a man has got to have his priorities right…

* * * *
When she came down to the kitchen Brad was already gone, no doubt racing across town to try and placate his boss. Janice and Dennis were in the breakfast nook, hotly debating something – probably an upcoming video for their YouTube channel, which was pretty much the only thing on their minds those last few weeks. Melanie sighed inwardly. She was hoping for a quite cup of coffee before setting off for her meeting with Mr. Collins – apparently, it was not to be… Didn’t kids sleep till noon on summer vacation, anymore?
Janice looked up, excited, as her mother went to the coffee machine. “Mom! Just in time! We NEED you in this – just a quick hello, like, setting us off, you know, just a wave, maybe a word or two…?”

Melanie opened the overhead cupboard, taking out the Oreos box. One – one single cookie, her one hit of horrible, terrible, no-good, evil, HEAVENLY sugar for the day… She had to shut everything else out… “Nope.”
“Come ON, mom – just one shot, a short wave hello, no lines, just a smile, I’ll do all the talking…”
“And be in a tank top or something.” Dennis, pitching in. “And flex a little…”
“(You are not helping, you moron!)” Janice knew it was a losing battle; they’ve been through this several times over the last month, her mom was just so… so PIGHEADED! “Seriously, mom, you don’t understand – this will break the internet!”
Melanie took her one Oreo out of the box, delicately, taking care not to damage it with her powerful fingers, put it on a small plate. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”
Dennis tried again, his hands spread on the table, the 16 years-old entertainment mogul-to-be hard at work: “Mom, you’ve got to understand – Janice can be HUGE. We have over 60 thousand views on the last one in just 3 days…”
“Yeah, and that’s shooting in the basement,” Janice, The Talent, moving on to another sour point “if we could just find somewhere decent, like, I dunno…”
Melanie was putting a capsule in the coffee machine. “I’m not asking Mr. Collins to let you shoot in the mansion gym. Forget it.”
Her daughter raised her hands in despair, her face showing disgust. Melanie glanced at her, thinking: perhaps…? At almost 17 years-old, Janice was quite a sight. 5’10”, broad shoulders and toned muscles (years of competitive swimming would do that to a girl’s body), very beautiful (though, like her brother, her looks – and hair - were very obviously from Brad’s side of the family); she was nowhere near her mother’s muscular development, but she has been training her in Krav Maga for 5 years, now, and Melanie knew that she was very capable of taking care of herself. The thought of getting her involved HAD crossed her mind over the weekend – she was all alone on that new front, and she COULD use someone to watch her back… But the kid was just too young, it would be really stupid to put her into the middle of this.
As she poured herself a cup, Dennis tried again: “You know there’s money in this, right? We get to serious numbers – and we’re not far from this – and we can monetize, pull in thousands every month…”
Melanie picked up the cup and the plate with the precious Oreo, moving to the table. “I believe your father and myself have been doing a pretty good job, so far, providing for this family…”
“Mom, we’re talking 5, maybe 10 grand a month – and that’s only the beginning!”
“Ha-mmm… Look, can we have that conversation when your dad is here? I have a meeting in an hour and I just want to finish my cup of coffee in peace, OK?”

As her two kids turned away, dejected, Dylan - her youngest - came into the kitchen, making straight for his favourite place in the house. At 14 years-old and 5’5” he was a bit too large for his mom’s lap, but she would always have room for her baby…
“Hey, tiger – sleep well?”
He grunted a reply, his body moving, fitting into the cosy contours of his mother’s body. As she picked up her coffee, her hand reaching for the lone Oreo smiling up at her from the plate, he moved fast, snatching it up, obliterating it in one determined bite.
“What THE f…?! Why did you DO that??!”
“Sugar. Don’t want a fat mommy.” He snuggled back into her, his head resting on her breast.
Janice guffawed from across the table. “Little runt got you there, mom!”
Melanie took a sip of her coffee, thinking that whoever made that rule about not hitting your kids should have his head examined.

After a moment Dylan stirred. “Mom, Jacob Kath is coming over later, we want to work out in the gym, will you show us how?”
“Ooh, I’m sorry, sweetie, I have a meeting at work, I wouldn’t be here all day…”
“Well, maybe we can do it on our own, you showed me how to do it, I can teach him, right?”
“No, sweetie, you know you can’t work out down there without someone watching over you.”
Dennis looked up, unable to resist a chance to mock his brother: “Yes, ‘sweetie’, you KNOW you got to have a babysitter – because you’re, like, a BABY…!”
Dylan gave him the finger. Ensconced as he was in his mother’s hulking frame, he knew his oft-vicious older brother was powerless to retaliate. “Mom, they got a really huge swimming pool, and he says I can come, like, whenever – and I promised him…”
Melanie took one last sip of her coffee. “Well, maybe Janice could be your instructor…?” Knowing as she spoke the words how stupid they sounded. Her daughter confirmed this, giving them her best guffaw of the morning. “Yeah, right – as IF!!”
Melanie looked at her, thinking. Maybe this was a sign… What the hell, just do it. “OK, here’s the deal: you babysit those two for an hour at the basement, I’ll ask Mr. Collins if you can shoot in the mansion gym.”
Janice and Dennis looked at each other, eyes wide, and then turned back to her, shouting in unison: “Deal!”

* * * *
As she got into her car in the garage, she was thinking: Monday morning, 9AM – and things are starting to move… She had no idea where it was all going, but things were going to change.

[QBikk]

Very nice continuation. Would be a pity not bringing it to the end!

[Ncsn]

Very nice continuation. Would be a pity not bringing it to the end!

That is very much my intention!

[phil123]

Would like to read what CHANGES she has in mind.

[BHIM-1965]

Waiting for Dylan getting off in mom's underwear and getting caught! Punishment to follow!

[lardbutt1]

Love the interaction between Mrs.Lockwood and her family! Hope you continue this story!

[Ncsn]

Hope you'll consider continuing this!

Thank you very much for your interest! I actually finished laying the whole story out (with a little help from friends), but find it very hard to get down to the actual writing... hopefully I’ll get over this hump, soon.

[BHIM-1965]

Will the naughty sons meet Black Duke?

[Ncsn]

Well, finally got over my writer's block, and started back on this monster (the story, size-wise - not Mrs. Lockwood! Love that lady!!). Thanks to the people who have commented and helped me move forward - especially jumpy999, who has made some great story suggestions and helped me shape this, going forward.  Which reminds me: this is going to be loooong... I'm already deep into the next chapter (lots of ACTION!!!), so I hope there wouldn't be as many long stretches between chapters.

If you hadn't already, I strongly suggest you read the previous chapters, including the first one - You are not allowed to view links. Register or Login - which was written before dear old saradas kicked my then-profile to the curb (because saradas is a strange and wondrous entity and moves in mysterious ways its wonders to perform).  Which reminds me: some K's would be much appreciated, as all of my old ones were deleted and I'm now in karma debt(). Like I said: a strange and wondrous entity.

Chapter 7

As Nadine showed her in into the large office, Mr. Collins marveled once again at the magnificence that was Melanie Lockwood. Next to the rail-thin, prim and proper Nadine, she seemed like a primal force of nature; dressed in her usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, she reminded him of a giant Tigris – all slinky, muscular curves, self-confidence that could easily be read as arrogance and a faint air of menace. He stood, up, smiling, feeling his tiny member coming to life, filling his slacks, watching this female terminator who has been making his life so, so much more interesting over the last 8 years strolling across the room towards him.
He had spent the weekend running possible scenarios for this meeting, telling himself he will not be playing games; if Melanie Lockwood proved to be a problem, she would be dealt with the same way he has dealt with any and all “problems”: ruthlessly, efficiently, without sentiment. But watching her approach - the gentle sway of her hips, the mesmerizing bobbing of her breasts under those boulder-like shoulders, the monstrous arms swinging lazily, those eyes, those cool, mocking eyes hiding behind those long lashes, the tantalizing, almost-grim half-smile… Was there a hint of menace in that veiled look? He felt a thrilling stab of fear, cast a quick glance to his left, to the large Kandinsky hanging there. Thinking about the man sitting in the small room behind it, glued to the CC monitor. Would he be fast enough, if needed? He looked again at the woman walking up to him; there were traces of tension on her face, but no violence. They will be talking, today. He sighed inwardly, standing up to greet her. Who was he kidding? There was only one way this meeting could end. Parting ways with Melanie Lockwood was NOT an option, and Howard Collins knew it.
“My DEAR Mrs. Lockwood! So nice of you to drop by… Please have a seat.”
She was lowering her hulking frame into the chair opposite him, the impossibly-tight jeans seemingly about to burst, the large chair groaning under her weight. “Thank you for seeing me.”
Very formal… there definitely WAS something on her mind. He raised his palm. “If I may – before we start…?”
She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and he went on: “I wanted you to know that young Donnie Mercer is hospitalized at the UNC - the private ward, of course – and he’s getting the best medical care available. The doctors assure me that he’ll be out and about before Christmas…” (well, the doctor he talked to that morning had said he’d be “released to be cared for at home” – but it was close enough).
She looked at him, showing no expression. “That’s nice to hear.”
He rushed on: “All expenses are of course covered by the organization – his family will have nothing to worry about, we take care of our own…” He stopped, noticing the slight curling of her lip. Over those years he has come to learn that Melanie Lockwood did not care much for B.S… He tried a more direct tack: “Look, Melanie – about Wednesday, I do believe that there were things said, that, well… might have been handled differently. I believe…”
She raised a hand, her forearm thick, delicate veins spiraling around it. “Mr. Collins – if I may?”
He leaned back into his chair, waving his hand. “Of course.”
“Wednesday. I was very unhappy with how it turned out.” Mr. Collins couldn’t help but smile inwardly. That’s my Mrs. Lockwood – straight and to the point! “For the first time in almost nine years of working for you, I left here feeling really shitty. Had a long talk with my husband, did a lot of thinking, didn’t get a lot of sleep that night.”
Mr. Collins started to speak, thought better of it.
“And in the end, it was quite simple: you were right. I’m getting paid to do a job for you; I don’t like it, I can walk away. So, there are pros and there are cons which I need to consider. The pros: I get a chance to do something I like, that I wouldn’t be able to do in any other setting. I’m paid well to do it. I feel appreciated by my employer. I get a lot of free time to spend with my kids. And, of course, there are all the risks I’ll be taking if I quit, which you mentioned that night…:
Mr. Collins sat stock still, his eyes fixed on her face, saying nothing. She was silent for a moment, gave a slight shrug and went on: “The cons: There’s the chance I’ll be asked to do something I really don’t like. It happened before – with those journalists, two years ago – but you listened to me and it worked out to all our satisfaction. And then it happened again last week, and it was personal for you, and you wouldn’t budge.”
She stopped, again, looking at him intently. He was still quiet, not moving. She resumed, speaking carefully: “So, when you come right down to it - not much of a conundrum, is it? There are people working 9 to 5 at jobs they hate, barely scraping by – seems really dumb to complain about this thing I have here. I’m happy working for Collins inc.,, and would like to continue doing so. However…”
She stopped, bringing her hands together, holding them in front of her. She seemed almost… uncertain? Mr. Collins was not used to seeing his one-woman wrecking crew showing hesitation. He spoke up, dryly: “This was going so nicely… Why must there always be an ‘however’?”
She flashed him a rare smile. “Like I said, it was a sleepless night, and I had some insights. The main one: I realized that right now I’m just a glorified henchwoman. I might enjoy it and all, but this is not going anywhere, and I’m not getting any younger. I want more.”
“Oh.” He was not expecting this. He was greatly relieved to hear that she wanted to get past the Mercer brat incident, but this was new territory. “by ‘more’ you are referring to…?”
“More. I’m more than just a goon. I’m a Duke graduate, I made the Dean’s list my sophomore year, I could have had a great career in government if not for, well, you know…” Yes, he did know all about how she broke her department head’s nose after he groped her, and how it effectively ended her government career. The Emergency Management Agency’s loss was very much his gain…
“Point is, Collins inc. doesn’t need my muscles the way it did. The last couple of years we have hardly had any people I had to take care of – it was mostly people Matias sent over, right?”
Mr. Collins felt a slight panic stirring in the back of his mind. “Keeping Matias happy is one of the most important things we need to do. But I thought you said you loved doing this…?”
“Don’t get me wrong: I love it, I want to keep doing it for as long as possible, but things are changing; the Fairview Center is going to make this company huge, and that sort of violence is going to become a hindrance. I want to get ready for the next stage. My kids are growing, they don’t need me around the house, I can offer this company much more than mayhem. I want to become a REAL part of the company. I want a JOB-job.”
Collins blinked, slowly. This conversation was most certainly not turning in any direction he had anticipated. What was this really about? His mind raced, trying to adjust. Was she serious? Was this really a mid-life crisis - was his pet terminator trying to set herself up on a new career path? He was dying to take a swig from the glass sitting on the table - an 18 years-old Aberlour, exquisite! - but knew he had to keep his focus. Mrs. Lockwood was now sitting back in her chair, her bulging arms crossed underneath that mighty chest, her face expressionless, waiting for his reply. He cleared his throat. “I must say, I was not expecting this…” He tapped his front teeth with his finger. The  far away, muted sound of a lawn mower was the only sound in the room. “Yes… Well, you’ve never shown any inclination to get involved in company affairs, or, indeed, to form any connections to people in the organization… You ARE aware that most people here  are terrified of you.” That last sentence a statement of fact, not a question.
Her lips twitched a little - a smile? Her eyes were steady and cold. “I’m aware of this. I want it to change. I believe it CAN change. I’m willing to MAKE the change.”
Collins smiled. “Well, you DO have that killer instinct that we’re looking for in our employees…” She now smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening, appreciating the joke. He was beginning to feel back at ease. “So - did you have anything specific in mind?” She shrugged, looking more animated. “You know the company best, you know me - I think you’re the one who can best determine where and how I can contribute.”
“Mmm… Well, I’ll need to give this some thought. I do believe that you are a very talented and capable woman, and that we could indeed make even better use of those talents.”
She smiled again, seeming genuinely happy. “I couldn't ask for more. I really appreciate this.”
He leaned back, feeling a little light headed. This was all very unexpected, but there were a lot of possibilities opening up, that he really liked. He beamed at her. “Excellent! We shall see where this takes us… But!” He raised his hand, his tone taking on a note of mock severity. “Let us not forget the work at hand! You are of course familiar with Jorge Escudero...?”   
She was about to stand up, but now she leaned back, the smile on her lips disappearing as if it was never there. “Of course...” Escudero was Matias’ chief enforcer in Mexico and Central America, a very brutal man who has built himself quite a reputation over the last few years. He rarely operated north of the border, but he has visited the mansion several times, delivering some poor bastards who were sent by Matias to be worked over by Melanie. “I think he has watched several of my sessions.”
Collins smiled smugly. “Well, he would soon be watching another one… from very up close.” He noted with satisfaction the sudden interest in her eyes, her lips parting slightly in anticipation. “It seems he had been a naughty boy, putting his hand in the till. Matias has been wanting to teach him a lesson for quite some time, and today is the day.”
There was a look on her face that was worth all the trouble he had gone through for this. He had tried frantically to find someone since Friday morning - meant it to be a sort of peace offering for her - with no luck. When he finally called Matias, the Colombian immediately said yes - but the name he gave was a bit disconcerting. He was hoping for some small-time sardine, but Jorge Escudero was one of the biggest sharks in Matias’ deadly pool. He would be coming down himself to watch it - ‘look in his eyes as he saw death coming, seeing only me…!’ Had things not worked out with Mrs. Lockwood this morning, he would had been embarrassed in front of his most important business partner! But, why dwell on might-have-been's? He was here, she was game to go, and all was right in the world!
“Max and Maurice extracted him from Culiacan on Saturday morning, and flew him in He's been resting downstairs - lots of sleep, excellent meals, just the way you like. Matias is flying in and should be here before noon. So - are you up to this? I know it’s somewhat of a short notice…”
She smiled at him, an angelic smile that froze the blood in his veins. “It will be my pleasure.”
Oh, he had no doubt of this. “There will of course be a bonus - Mr. Escudero is hardly your usual fare…”
“Of course. Are there any special instructions?”
“Well, it’s tricky. Matias wants him hurt, wants him humiliated - but he wants him back on the job, soon. He needs to be taught a lesson, but you need to be careful not to go too far. Matias will be the only guest - and he wants Jorge to look in his eyes as he feels death touching him. His words.”
The fact that he couldn’t watch it from his usual place behind the reinforced glass rankled. He would of course watch the video, later, but it just wouldn’t be the same. This session promised to be epic! A sudden thought struck him. “You don’t think that this might be… well, Escudero, he is not… well, you haven’t taken on someone of his size and capabilities in quite some time. You don’t think, perhaps…”
She seemed about to laugh, but stopped herself. She was smiling broadly now, her joy unbound. “I guess we’ll know soon enough, won’t we?”
God, the woman was psychotic! His erection was now causing him pain, crawling outside his boxer shorts; he grimaced, barely controlling the urge to let his hand adjust it. “We will indeed. Very well, then - shall we say 12AM?”
She stood up, her mammoth body seeming to explode out of the confines of the large chair. She arched her back, stretching her ginormous shoulders backwards, the monumental pecs pushing those lovely breasts forward, the nipples stretching her tight shirt mercilessly. “12 it is. I’ll be warming up in the gym.”
He stood, up, gingerly, careful not to mangle his engorged manhood, thanking for the umpteenth time the fashion gods for those life-saving slacks. “Well, I hope you have a very productive - and enjoyable - morning… And I WILL give the matter we discussed some serious thought.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that very much.” She started to turn - a battleship maneuvering on the ocean - and then stopped. “I meant to ask you: my daughter is making videos for YouTube - could she use the gym for a couple of hours to shoot one? She was very impressed with the place that one time she visited...”
He beamed at her, the magnanimous aristocrat smiling down on his favorite knight. “Ahh, the lovely Janice! I understand she is doing quite well. Of course, it will be quite the honor!”
The day was just getting better and better…

***

As the main door closed behind Mrs. Lockwood’s hulking figure a side door opened, and Marcus Perez stepped through. He was a handsome man in his 30's, slim, olive-skinned, dressed immaculately in a tan suit. He walked over and sat down in the chair opposite Mr. Collins - with Melanie Lockwood  out of it, it had now seemingly gone back to its normal size. He looked up at Collins, who seemed to be busy adjusting something in his pants. Marcus smiled inwardly. Melanie Collins didn’t have quite the effect on him that she had on other men, but he could definitely feel it. Mike, his husband, thought it was normal - he had that whole theory about human sexuality being a wave - but Marcus found it to be nonetheless a little unnerving. That woman excited him a little - and it was a little too much… Mr. Collins, on the other hand - yes, his titular employer seemed to be obsessed with his sexy female pit bull. On Thursday he was talking about cutting her off if she proved to be a problem, but every action he has taken since has only shown that he was desperate to keep her. God, ,he was practically glowing with happiness, now! Pathetic…

Mr. Collins looked at him, his excitement very poorly concealed. “So. What do you think?”
Marcus put his hands on his knees, palms down. He had to tread carefully. He knew what Collins wanted to hear, but he had to try. “ I’m not at all sure I understand this new course she seems to be on. It seems to be a little out of the blue.”
Collins raised his hand, waving it dismissively. “She’s a 43 years-old woman who has gotten her wake-up call. She’s thinking about the future, trying to get into a second career before she’s too old. Why do you find that surprising?”
Marcus shrugged. “Something just feels a bit… off.”
Collins nodded. Over the years he had learned to trust Marcus’ instincts, but he felt that in this case his right-hand man was just too cautious. “Well, by all means, keep an eye on her. But I want to go ahead and see how we can use her, see what she can do. I want her to be in charge of the security detail for next weekend’s meeting.”
Marcus looked up in surprise. “Puerto Vallarta? Isn’t it a little big to start off with?”
“You have your best men on it - Miller and that Israeli guy - Gal, right? They’ll do the heavy lifting. I want to see how she handles herself, how she handles the responsibility.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “ mmmm… and Henry? You’re not worried about his reaction, considering their, mmm, history?”
Collins Actually laughed at that. “Poor Henry… it will be good for him, keep him on his toes. I don’t want people around me to get too complacent.”
Sure, Marcus thought. a guy is mauled by a lion, you put him back in the cage with the lion to erase the effects of the mauling. That’s Psychology 101. Out loud he said: “I’ll get on it. Anything else?”
Collins shook his head, smiled briefly as the handsome Cuban stood up to leave. He was dying to get back to his glass of Aberlour; there was a lot to celebrate. Life was good - and seemed to be getting better all the time....

***

As the door closed behind her, Melanie let her breathe out, slowly. That went rather well… Yes, Marcus would probably be skeptical - she noticed Collins’ glances, and she was fairly sure it was him, sitting in the small room, behind that jumbled monstrosity of a painting; but Marcus was always skeptical, and Collins was hooked. She could see the hunger in his eyes as he glanced down, stealing brief snapshots of her body… Saw the constant, almost imperceptible movement underneath his loose-fitting trousers. Oh, yes, the man was hooked, willing to buy any story just to keep her near. She was now free to start mingling, nosing around, try and find the angle that would bring Mr. Howard Collins down. She looked up and saw Nadine smiling up at her from her desk. Well, might as well get started.

***

Looking up at the approaching Melanie Lockwood, Nadine felt her heart go aflutter, as it usually did when that unbelievable woman was near. She had long shaped her life around her unrequited love for Howard Collins, choosing a life of celibacy, devoutly serving her one true love, letting no one and no thing intrude on her dour, grey existence. But then this woman came into her world…

She remembered the first time Melanie Lockwood walked into her office, for her first meeting with Mr. Collins. A strikingly beautiful woman, her clean-shaved head only amplifying the effect of those lips, those cheekbones, those eyes - oh, those amazing eyes… She was tall, not quite as muscular as she would later become, but very broad shouldered, her body hard and intimidating, her movements lithe and fluid, like a large, deadly cat... Nadine has felt those strange stirrings from that very first minute, an excitement she hadn’t felt in years. She remembered her reaction when she heard what this woman was actually doing in Mr. Collins’ service, the revulsion and horror she felt when she first saw her in action… It was in the old Warehouse they used back in the day, the one on Junction road. She had asked Mr. Collins about all the new medics she was hiring - why did a real estate and land development company need so many medics on its staff? He explained briefly, and her shock seemed to amuse him. The following week he took her to the warehouse, and she saw Melanie Lockwood as she truly was: a goddess of pure mayhem, a terrifying vision in tiny Daisy Dukes and an even tinier bra, viciously, methodically taking apart a large, hapless redneck. When the screaming started she ran outside, throwing her guts up in the parking lot, but she came back in - she couldn’t help herself, she HAD to see this. She watched the smile - the pure JOY - on Melanie Lockwood’s beautiful face as she squeezed that poor man’s head between her massive thighs, finally putting and end to the inhuman torture. And she was hooked. Mr. Collins thought her reaction - the throwing up - was amusing; yes, he did have a mean, cruel streak… But she didn’t mind. That afternoon in the giant, empty warehouse awakened something in her. She was never invited to the warehouse again, but they soon after moved into the new mansion, and she found a way of watching Melanie Lockwood's terrifying - and endlessly exciting - ‘sessions’... Indeed, over the last 5 years she had spent hundreds of hours watching, mesmerized, her nether regions aflame…

“Nadine…”

She broke out of her reverie. Melanie Lockwood was standing in front of her desk, her eye cocked quizzically, her hefty arms folded, unflexed biceps bulging, supporting her beautiful chest. As if it needed any support! Nadine shook her head. Snap out of it! She smiled up at Mrs. Lockwood.
“My apologies, Melanie. I was thinking about something… else.”
The large woman smiled, politely. “Mondays, right? I hope you had a nice weekend.”
Well, she did spend most of it on the sofa with her two best guys… Mr. Buttons and Mr. Huckleberry were very thoughtful and considerate - well, for cats, anyway - and they didn’t at all mind when she would occasionally bring Mr. Buzzy out and have a long, leisurely one-on-one with him… She smiled back at her. “Quite nice, thank you. And yourself?”
Melanie Lockwood smiled, thinking about the family weekend on Brad’s pride and joy, the Ocean Tigress. What a ridiculous name… but what a fun sail! And all their kids on board - something she knew she could no longer take for granted. Janice wanted to tan herself for the videos, Dennis was of course not going to miss a full day of his sister in a teeny-tiny bikini, and Dylan… well, Dylan was like a big cat, you never knew quite what he would do, she just knew it made her so happy when he decided to come, that they could be all together, a family, having fun… “Lovely weekend. We sailed on my husband’s cruising yacht - all the kids were there, it was really…well… really nice.”
She stopped. This thing - making small talk - she didn’t quite have the hang of it, yet. Nadine seemed a little surprised, her smile uncertain. Well, it was probably more small talk than they had had in the entire nine years they had known each other…! Melanie smiled, feeling awkward - a feeling that was rather new to her. “Anyway… I understand there is a new guest waiting for me?”
Nadine’s smile stretched a little wider. She seemed almost… excited? “Ah, yes, Mr. Escudero! He has spent the night in cell 2. I understand he has been making quite the ruckus…”
Melanie thought for a minute. “Our session is at 12, and they’ll probably need to tranq him to get him to the Leisure suite. Please get them on this immediately - I want the effects to wear off by the time he’s on.”
Nadine nodded. “Yes, he does seem to be a very... difficult case. Are you sure that… mmm…”
Melanie felt a flash of annoyance. “Please don’t ask if I think I can handle him!”
Nadine seemed horrified, “Oh, no! Of course not! I’m your greatest fan - I think you could handle anyone, any THING!  I think you are amazing!...” She stopped, embarrassed. Melanie looked at her, surprised. She had never seen the usually cool and collected Nadine get excited, and her cheeks were actually flushed, her eyes shining. “You have only ever been to one of my sessions, right? I remember you took it quite badly.”
Nadine looked down, her hands fiddling with the papers on her table. “Well… people change. Those things that you do… I watch it. It’s… like something out of this world. It’s almost… transcendental.”
Melanie watched her intently, her interest flaring. She ‘watches’ it...She had always suspected that there were cameras recording her sessions, but figured only Mr. Collins had access to the products. If other people did, too, there were implications that she needed to address. There were dangers in this - but, perhaps, also an opportunity? She needed to explore this further. She leaned over the table, towering over the older, rail-thin woman, looking her directly in the eyes.
“Look, I would have invited you to watch this, but Matias will be there and he doesn’t want anyone else present. But maybe you’d like to come in, after it’s over? See the aftermath from up close… Would you like that?”
Nadine’s eyes were shining bright, her smile almost unhinged. “Oh, yes! Yes! I would like to, very much, yes!”
Melanie smiled softly, her eyes still locked on Nadine’s. “Excellent. I would love to have you there.” Her hand touched Nadine’s, the calloused palm brushing the frail skin, sending shivers throughout the older woman’s body. “I’m going to get ready. See you soon…”
She could almost feel Nadine's eyes on her back as she walked out. Yes, she had most definitely started something... 
     

 
 

[jhunter]

Glad to see now the story continues. Great work, and I hope to see more.

[Ncsn]

With apologies to any and all Spanish-speakers.

Chapter 8

Jorge Escudero banged his ham-like fist on the wall, his frustration boiling over. It’s been over two days - two days since those two creepy gringos blindsided him, shooting him full of darts, tranquilizing him. He remembered the flight over dimly - trussed up like a chicken, gagged, lying helpless on the cold metal of the small one-engine plane, the smaller of the creeps staring at him the whole time, playing with a needle-sharp knife, bursting out in sudden laughter every once in a while. He shuddered, thinking about him. That guy really creeped him out… More than what was coming. The last lag of the journey was in a van, driving for two hours from the secret air strip. His eyes were covered when they arrived and several men carried him out, down to the holding cell, but he knew where he was, and knew what was going to happen, what was coming - WHO was coming: Her - El Diabla…

he knew the room - he was here once, watching that psycho destroy Pablo Ruiz, the fucking moron who tried to cut a deal with the feds. He watched her taking him apart slowly, methodically breaking his body, capping it all off by raping him for 10 minutes. When, an hour later, he shot him in the head, he felt he was performing an act of mercy... He shuddered, spat at the white floor, grunted a curse. He was not afraid of the Lockwood woman. She was built like a brick house, but he was no slouch, himself. He was taller than her - 3, maybe even 4” - possibly stronger, and he didn’t spend his days playing around with weights and beating up weasels like Ruiz. He was a fighter - Matias took him on 8 years ago, after those pussies at the Mexican MMA disqualified him, but he knew he could still handle himself against any opponent in the octagon. He had a good night’s sleep - Saturday night he was too wound up - they gave him good meals; he was ready to go. If the playing grounds were level, he would show that woman what was what! Maybe give her a little of what her husband obviously couldn’t…? He grunted again, tugging at the large manacle holding his leg fast to the cloth-covered wall. Maybe they were going to keep it on? The devil woman could stay out of his reach, just kicking the shit out of him…

 He suddenly felt very exposed, his hand moving subconsciously to cover his manhood. It was his pride and joy, not very long but thick and veiny, and he had put it to good use over the years; but now it - and his dangling , hairy and heavy balls - felt like a giant target. Shit. They were always there, of course, but he has never fought in the nude - certainly not a ball-busting crazy woman like the Lockwood carbon...
Well, it was all in his head. That was why they had him be naked here, right? To give her a psychological advantage, right? Well, didn’t it just mean that she NEEDED that advantage? Well, it’s not going to be enough! He was bigger than her, stronger, he had more experience in REAL fighting. And - HE was the one giving women the business, not the other way around!

What was worrying him was the fact that Matias sat him up - sending him to that banker’s house, Saturday morning, only to have those creeps jump him… He knew why he did it but couldn’t believe he’d go that far to punish him. A measly 900,000 Pesos - holy fucking Jesus, talk about over-reacting... He wondered what happened to Carlos - did Matias know about him? He was pretty sure he wasn’t in the holding cells with him. Maybe he did get away. Which could be good - he could barter, give him to Matias, maybe even put the whole thing on him. He looked over to the large window on one side of the room, at the empty rows of comfortable-looking armchairs. He knew his boss would soon be here - the guy liked to look you in the eyes before shooting you. He needed to talk to him, but it would have to wait, first he would take down that Lockwood bitch, then, maybe…

***

There was motion in the viewing gallery. Matias came in, accompanied by that secretary woman - Nadine? A bit on the older side, and definitely too thin for his tastes, but not too bad looking. Maybe, after this is over… Damn, he had to concentrate on the pinche psycho woman! ...and then work things out with his boss… Yeah, moron, don’t get too cocky!
Matias was seated in the central armchair, knees spread out, feeling at home… The woman was pouring him a glass of wine, talking to him. He nodded, took a sip from the glass, and fixed his eyes on Jorge.
Escudero smiled at him, raising his arm in a half-hearted wave. “Hola, patron!” His boss just stared at him, passively, and took another sip. The Nadine woman backed out, and it was just the two of them.

His boss seemed determined to play the staring game with him, never breaking eye contact. Well, fuck him, Jorge thought. If he does make it out of here alive… 8 years, working his ass off for that fat bastardo culero… 900,000 Pesos! He made the cartel ten times - a hundred times that every week!! And this is what he gets in return??! Trying to calm down he looked at the wall across from him, the soft light padding showing some signs of wear, but still clean and bright. He remembered it with smudges of blood all over it - Pablo Ruiz, thrown around like a doll by that bitch, slammed into the wall with spine-shattering force, leaving a surrealist, dark-red pattern as he crumpled to the floor. Puta Madre, it will be that cabron’s blood on the wall today!

The door opposite him opened noiselessly. The Lockwood bitch stepped into the room, carrying a bag on her shoulder. His breath caught as he saw her - damn, did this woman get bigger since he last saw her?! She smiled at him, briefly, and turned to the viewing gallery, raising her hand in greeting. Matias came alive, the passive scowl he has had on since coming into the room replaced by a broad smile. Puta Madre, that pendejo was infatuated with the freak! The two times Escudero came here with him here, he couldn’t stop talking about her - how beautiful she was, what a diosa del caos she was, what a wonderful mother… que demonios?! Man was insane. He wouldn’t do anything about it, of course - he was too devoted to his fatass wife - but he was talking like a man in love. Escudero looked at her - she was taking her boots off, standing on one leg (how could she keep her balance with all those tons of muscle?!), her generous butt and gigantic thighs stretching her jeans almost to breaking, her upper body flaring out from a waist that seemed almost comically narrow to impossibly wide shoulders that would have put a full-grown bull to shame. Man, that BUTT! Escudero liked his women to have some meat on their bones, but this was TOO much… Or was it? He imagined her on all four, that sweet, sweet ass so inviting, him mounting her, his fingers digging into that Agua en la boca culo - that mouth watering, monumental ass, his gigantic verga pushing forward between those monstrous thighs, throbbing, and then upwards, through her heavenly gates…

He shook his head, violently. He needed to get a grip on! That woman - she was pretty good-looking, he would admit that, but, first - all those muscles?! It was obscene! Puta Madre - she was a woman, this was not natural! But, most important: this was a psychotic killer, a mayhem machine, perhaps the most dangerous opponent he has faced since his MMA days - damn, maybe ever! And this was no MMA match - this could be life and death! He needed to stay focused, maybe try and get in her head…

Her trousers were finally down, revealing a black, sporty-looking thong that went right into the cleft between her butt cheeks, not even bothering to try and cover any part of them…

“Hey, puta!” he cried out. “This is a very nice ass. You bring it here, I have candy for you!”

She didn’t answer, her hefty arms now tugging at her tight-fitting t-shirt, starting to pull it up. He couldn’t help himself, “Yo, el jefe!” he called out to his boss, who was leaning forward in his chair, watching Mrs. Lockwood disrobing, an almost-enraptured look on his face. “that looks like quite a show - how about you tell her to turn around, let another guy enjoy it a little?”

Matias ignored him, fixed on the American woman. He looked at her - her arms now raised over her head, wrestling the shirt, allowing him a glimpse of a side boob. He looked at it critically: not too large, but it seemed round and firm, a little sagging confirming that it was indeed the real deal… He swallowed the saliva that suddenly filled his mouth. Muscle or no muscle, that was a fine piece of woman… Yes, he would take her down - and then he would TAKE her, his boss be damned…!

She was now bending down, searching in her bag, moon-like buttocks raised towards him, in his FACE, mighty muscles dancing dreamily as they snake down to the back of her knees, her calves large and rock-like… Puta Madre - this was doing his head in! He needed to move, to lash out, to HIT something…!

Patience: it was all part of her game, driving him insane...

“I think, you get bored at home, si?” he called out to her. “Woman like you - you need a real man, with real pito, REAL penis, not like you get at home. You come to me, I show what real man look like, si?”

Ignoring him, she straightened up, holding what looked like a tiny bikini top, and slowly, deliberately, put it on. He watched, fascinated, as those huge arms bent backwards, 18”-biceps pushing against her vast lats, easily snapping the clasps behind that mile-wide back. How was she doing it? the woman was as muscle-bound as anyone he has seen in his life, but she was… pliable. His own muscles were almost as big - though, he had to admit to himself, with a lot more meat on them - and he has long forgotten when he could soap his own back. Well - what the hell - there was a lot more to fighting than being stretchable!

Finished, she turned, facing him, her arms - those meaty monstrosities that now filled him with a sense of unease - hanging by her sides casually, pushed out a little by her lats. She was more than pretty - quite beautiful, really, if you ignored all those muscles… Yes, he would enjoy ramming his dick inside that delicate mouth, those green-grey eyes upturned, looking at him, worshiping, as she sucked him, her tongue playing underneath his engorged manhood…

“So, I see you’re excited to see me. That’s nice.”

He snapped out of his daydream, his hand touching his now almost-painfully erect penis. Puta madre, this she-devil cast a spell on him! He glared back at her, angry: “Oh, yes, puta, very excited, yes. You open that thing -” pointing at the manacle around his left leg, holding him fast to the wall - “I show you just how much excited!”

She smiled, amused. her bikini top was a white crescent, with black, diagonal stripes - like a tigress - pushing her breasts inwards and upwards, accentuating them and her wide, deep-cut pecs, her abs below it a mesmerizing 8-pack. He thought uneasily about his own belly - still hard, but hardly something you’d put in a magazine; too many years, too much beer, too much good living, maybe not enough working out? He pushed the thought aside. He was taller, he was heavier, he was a FIGHTER, he was A MAN - he would fuck this woman UP! And then - yes - fuck the shit out of her…

“All in good time, lover boy. Got to do my stretching, first. I suggest you try and do some, yourself.”   

***

Matias sat back in the cushy armchair, sipping his wine slowly, taking in the full majesty of the magnificent Mrs. Lockwood going through her stretching routine. This woman… she was - … He could think of no proper adjective to describe her, or how much he adored her. When Collins first showed her to him, inviting him for a “special treat”, he was initially appalled. He was never a squeamish man - you don’t rise to the top of the cartel, being one - and in his younger days has done his fair share of shooting people in the head; but what she did to those two poor bastards, in that empty warehouse… no, that was a bit much. He remembered sitting on a folding chair, next to Collins, the man keeping a cool demeanor all throughout, but he could feel his growing excitement with every vicious punch, every cracking rib, every anguished wail as iron thighs closed around a frail human head…
After it was finished, Collins introduced them - and it was a stunning experience. Her head was still shaved clean, back then, and from a few meters out - coupled with her otherworldly physique - it gave her the look of an inhuman terminator; but up close she was beautiful, her eyes seeming to pierce his soul, her body in those short jeans and the tiny bra almost overwhelming him. He complimented her on the “show” - not knowing quite what to say but needing to see her smile at him - and was rewarded with a brilliant smile that seemed to light up the whole giant warehouse. Afterwards, when the two of them were driving back to the office, Collins told him about the reason for the bald head - about her sick kid, and how she nursed him back to health over two hard, grueling years, never giving up on him - and he knew he was in love.

He would never cheat on Lucinda - that was of course out of the question, he made an oath to her before God, she was a good wife and a good mother to their children, he would always be faithful to her. But he loved talking to Melanie, hearing about her family, see the joy in her eyes as she talked about her children, the love that she had for her husband (the lucky, lucky bastard!). And over the years he had also learned to appreciate her artistry, the thought and care she seemed to put into those horrific “sessions” ... He had even offered her a job – ‘move to Mexico with your family, be my chief enforcer, live like a queen’; she turned him down, not wanting to uproot her family, and he understood and adored her even more.

He looked at Jorge Escudero, seeming about to stomp his free foot, chomping at the bit, wanting to charge the marvelous woman standing in front of him, methodically going through her stretching routine. Jorge was taller than her, a lot more meat on his bones - not to mention his fur-like coat of hair! - and had led a life of violence, fighting both in the ring and (a lot) out of it. Melanie was a perfect physical specimen, far stronger than any man he knew, and, of course, she used to be a Krav Maga instructor. But was she up to facing someone like Escudero in a real fight? They had a conversation, a long time ago, where she mentioned she might try her hand at underground fighting once the kids were grown up enough; was she really up to this?

It’s something he had long wanted to know - and he suspected that this was the REAL reason he had decided to take that thing with those fucking 900,000 Pesos as far as he did… Everybody skimmed money - you took it as a fact of life; 900,000 Pesos was a lot, yes, but Jorge Escudero was a very valuable asset, you don’t take a chance of losing him over something like this. He could have handled it differently - but he didn’t… He agonized over it for a couple of months, not sure how to handle it; but when Howard Collins called him Friday, asking if he had anything to give him, a gift for Mrs. Lockwood - yeah, he didn’t think twice. That was a sign from above, no doubt about it. Collins sent his two creepy ninjas over, Friday night, and they sat up the trap for Escudero. Carlos Mancia - that insolent bastard who thought the whole petty, stupid scam up - he invited to his home Sunday, and shot him in the head without much ceremony. But Jorge… Yes, Jorge was to be taught a lesson, and maybe he could have his chief enforcer back, wiser for the experience.

But, most of all, Jorge Escudero was his gift to his dear friend, Melanie Lockwood...

***

“So, ready to rumble?”

He looked at the woman standing in front of him, forcing himself to calm down. His dick has finally gotten the memo and has shrunk back to a more manageable size. He focused on her face, on that smug smile - he would soon wipe that smile OFF! He spoke, his voice low, menacing. “You open this thing, I show you how ready I am. I’m not Pablo Ruiz or some other clown like you play with - I fuck you up, puta, I fuck you up good.”

She nodded, her expression not changing. She moved back a few steps to the door, opened a hidden panel, and pressed a button. With a soft whirr the steel bolt holding his ankle slid into the grey metal bar of the large manacle, and then the whole contraption slid back into the wall. A panel slid down, and it was gone. He moved forward, shaking his leg, trying to restore the circulation. She was back in front of him, her tree-trunk legs slightly apart, ready. He played up the slight discomfort he felt in his leg, bending down to massage it with both hands - and then, without warning, charged at her.
She didn’t try to move, taking his charge head on. He had almost 30 pounds on her, but she held her ground as he slammed into her, moving back just a few inches, her arm going up and coming down on his trapezius muscle, the elbow digging into the axillary nerve with surgical precision. He grunted in pain, and put his arms around her torso, his much longer limbs barely circumventing her thick, broad back. He roared as she hit the side of his head with another vicious elbow, and then, lifting her 200 pounds off the ground, he carried her forward, slamming her against the wall with a thud, butting the side of her head with the top of his skull, eliciting the first grunt of pain from her. Letting go of the bearhug, he pushed at her shoulders with his hands, pinning her to the wall, and started hitting her abs with his knee repeatedly,
It was like hitting a brick wall, but he knew that a few more would do the job, he just had to keep on the offensive, not let up. Just… don’t… let… up! At the back of his mind was the thought of his exposed balls - maybe he should pull away, not let her own knees so close to the crown jewels? But when she counter attacked, it wasn’t aimed at his gonads. He wasn’t worried about her fists - at this close range she couldn’t get much of a swing, and his arms holding her shoulders were protecting his face. His abdomen, while not as impressive as hers, was still solid - he would take his chances, allow her to punch away at it. But when it came, he just wasn’t ready for the sheer power, the precision - two jabs from the side, just underneath the ribs, aimed at his kidneys, driving in hard without any real momentum, just the unbelievable power of her upper body. He gasped out loud, his hands momentarily losing their grip, and she immediately drove into him with a quick right-left-right combination into his midsection. He moved back, trying to swing at her, but she moved into him, butting her head into his chin and finishing with a devastating blow - knuckles first - just above his stomach. He staggered back, trying to keep his balance, which was when she leaned back, raised her left leg, and drove into his upper stomach with a devastating side kick. The force of it threw him a few feet, and he fell backwards, his back hitting the padded wall with a painful thud.

He laid there, stunned, trying to catch his breath. She walked over, lazily, her face expressionless. The right side of her mouth was bleeding, from when he butted her face, and she licked it, a long, pink tongue sneaking out, going over it methodically. “I gotta say, you weren’t lying about your equipment” she said, conversationally. “That is one very impressive penis.”  He glared at her, angry at himself. Those boobs, those hips in the small thong, the long, immense thighs - despite his pain and confusion, his dick was stirring, rising, drawn to the psycho woman who was now towering above him, humongous arms crossed underneath her jutting pecs, checking his junk out. “yeah, you want you can suck it now, I don’t complain”.
She smiled. “I’m not kidding, I’ve seen a lot of dicks come through here over the years, and this one is really nice - thick and long…”
He couldn't help but laugh. “What the hell? We going to fight or we going to fuck?” Because he was now completely down for it...
Her smile turned smug. “Well, I don’t think you can give me much of a fight, and you’re the one type of guy my husband is not going to like me fucking, so…” She bent down, grabbed a fistful of his abundant chest hair and pulled. As his body started to rise, he grabbed at her massive arm, pulling with all his weight behind it, his right foot lashing out at her ankle, hitting hard. She toppled over, falling like a huge tree, and he rolled over on top of her, keeping her down with his body, his fists moving furiously, hitting her midsection repeatedly. As she tried to adjust, he rose a little, supporting himself with his left hand, and hit her jaw with a hard right. She turned her head a little as his fist struck, and it didn’t have the full effect he was hoping for, and he raised his arm for a second blow, but never completed the move. She grabbed his neck, pulling him downwards, her own upper section rising to meet him, the top of her head butting into his head, hard, smashing into his nose.

There was a red explosion in his head, and he blacked out. When he came to, a few seconds later, he was still on top of her, his face buried in her enormous pecs, his hands at his sides, held tight in her embrace, her legs locked around his. He tried to move, but the only part of his body that was free were his lower legs, and he could only shake them ineffectually. He tried to wriggle, but her grip was like a python’s. He was almost completely immobilized. He stopped struggling, trying to take stock of the situation, maybe figure a way out. She would have to let go of him eventually, right? Hugging your opponent was not much of an offensive strategy, and it wasn’t as if he was one of those half-pints she was used to torturing - he was too big, too strong, she couldn’t just squeeze him into submission, could she?

...Could she?

He became aware of her body - the hard nipples burrowing into his upper chest, the slick bricks of her abs, the cords of muscle playing on her thighs, the taste of blood - his blood - that was collecting in the tight valley between her pecs, the feeling of her sex, protected only by the flimsy thong, pressing against his lower abdomen. He felt his penis growing, moving up, sliding in between their bodies, felt the hard knob of her clit rubbing against his dick, and heard her gasp. Maybe, maybe…

Her pecs jumped, squeezing together, and he yelped in pain as they tweaked his broken nose. “I see you’re making yourself right at home there, tiger. Don’t get too comfy…”

He strained his neck, raising his head to look at her. She was smiling down at him, her eyes cold. “For what it’s worth, that was the best fight anyone has put up in the last few years…” She stopped, closed her eyes, and he felt her pelvis gyrating slowly, rubbing against his manhood, the monstrous thighs holding him pulsating, the muscle cords seeming to wriggle and glide around his entrapped lower body… She moaned, softly, and this elicited an immediate response from his penis, as a rush of blood enlarged further, bigger than he had known was possible. He buried his head back in those titanic pecs, feeling the rush of cum starting to work its way up - and then he screamed in pain, as suddenly, unbelievably, the pressure of her arms around him doubled, an inhuman vise crushing him, ribs cracking…

he howled in pain, and she eased the pressure a bit. “Puta Madre, you broke my ribs!” She sighed contentedly, not speaking, as he groaned in pain. When she spoke, it was in a whisper, for his ears only. “Just the one rib - maybe two - and it’s only cracked. I wanted to work this slowly, but I couldn’t have you squirting all over me in front of Matias. Defeats the purpose of the whole thing.” She raised her voice. “Well, time to get to business. I’m told you were a naughty boy…”

he cursed her, slow and deliberate, trying to think of the worst, most vile insults he knew. She cut him short, giving him another squeeze, the excruciating pain making him scream again. “As I was saying… you were naughty, and naughty boys get punished. How this turns out in the end is up to your boss…” he raised his head a little, looking sideways to the viewing gallery, Matias sitting practically on the edge of his seat, the bastardo seeming to be enjoying himself. “...but we’re going to have some fun till then. At least, I am.”

He strained his head again to look at her. There was a noticeable swelling on the side of her chin, where his fist hit her, before. “She CAN be hurt”, he reminded himself. “Just don’t panic, bide your time…”

His limbs were suddenly free, the iron vise that has been holding him suddenly gone. He instinctively raised his arms backwards and striked down at her sides - to no effect, his fists bouncing harmlessly off her steely oblique plates. Her hands grabbed his sides, sending shafts of pain from his cracked ribs, and he found himself lifted in the air. He caught a quick glance of her face - lips set, tip of the tongue peeking on one side, not really exerting herself - and he was tossed up and sideways, flipping in the air to land on his back, the pain as it hit the floor pure agony. He scrambled up, teeth gritted, watching the devil woman walk over, in no hurry, and he set himself ready to jump her - nothing fancy, go straight for the throat, put his hands on it and squeeze, not let go, no matter what she threw at him, just take it, take the punishment and squeeze - but there was a sudden blur, and her foot hit him in the middle of his chest, sending him flying backward.

This time she didn’t wait for him to get up; he was on his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath, when she grabbed his hair, pulling his head up savagely. He had one look at her face - her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue showing, no smile, no expression, really - and then her fist smashed into the side of his head, and everything went black.

***

Melanie looked down at the man crumpled at her feet. ‘Well, that was disappointing’, she thought. She had high hopes for Escudero, expecting him to give her a real fight, present her with a real challenge… it was not to be. What was it - two, three minutes? Damn…! Guy was way past his prime, too many years of living the good life on a Cartel expense account. Matias was too good a boss, spoiling his men! She laughed inwardly, thinking about the people - his own employees! - he has brought here over the years, for her to put the fear of god on. She liked Matias, but the guy was one mean bastard…! Well, sure, that was part of why she liked him, right?
She turned to him, raising her eyebrows, her face questioning. from his seat behind the large glass window, Matias gave her the ‘thumb up’ sign, and then a twirl of his finger - ‘bring it home’. Yeah, there wasn’t much more damage she could do safely - she didn’t want to break anything serious, putting him out of commission for too long; and she couldn’t violate him - for a man like him, there was no coming back from a thing like that. But she did need to humiliate him; his male ego being the most vulnerable part of him, crumbling it was the only thing that could really teach him a lesson…

Escudero groaned. She watched as slowly, painfully, he struggled up, looking dizzy. ‘Well, good for you!’ she thought. The guy was not a quitter - and he could still stand up. Nice. This called for one more shot before she got to the fun parts. As he stood up, unsteadily, clutching at his side, she considered several options. Her Muay Thai game was still pretty lame - might as well get some practice out of this turd! She moved in, her speed astounding in someone her size, grabbing his head and pulling it down savagely, her knee going up to meet his chin. BAM! Perfect execution of a Hak Kor Erawan! Though her instructor, that sour-faced Vietnamese bastard, would have probably had something to say about her form or whatever… Easy for him to talk, with that Lilliputian 5’6”, 130 pounds frame! She put her right leg forward, flexing and unflexing her thigh, feeling the weight of all those muscles. She loved that body that she had built, all those insane muscles; but the thing she prided herself on the most was just how limber she still was… Brad has said many times that if he tried to do as much stretching as she did, he would probably go insane after a couple of days. Men just didn’t have the mental strength needed for a SMART investment in their bodies… I just wanna lift, bro!! Well - being muscle bound was all nice and good, but it would do diddly-squat for you in a fight! Speaking of which…

Jorge Escudero was back on his hands and knees. She noted with amusement that his belly seemed to be bigger. Gravity - and getting a few shots in the head - wreaked havoc on men’s ability to hold their stomach in… He raised a hand, speaking slowly, his speech slurred: “Bastante... Enough, OK…? You win…” She sighed as she walked over to him, moving to his side. Silly men… for them it’s always about the winning, isn’t it?

She bent down on her knees (always keep proper form!), and grabbed his crotch with her right hand, four fingers spread around his scrotum, the thumb digging into his butt chick. Her left hand grabbed his deltoid, fingers digging in, the thumb going around his neck. He was blubbering in pain, but she ignored him. Slowly, deliberately, her back straight, she started to lift him, taking care to keep him balanced. He writhed, trying to break free, one hand clawing at her arm. She hissed angrily, trying to keep her concentration, and squeezed his crotch viciously, prompting a sharp yelp of pain. When she had him at shoulder-height, she stood up, slowly, her mind constantly on her back. She stopped for a rest - goddammit, this guy was HEFTY!
“No offense, buddy,but I think you should consider cutting down on the cheeseburgers…!”
What was he - 240, 250? Jesus… She took a big breath, and with one clean jerk she hoisted him up, flipping him over, her arms now fully extended above her head, straight, Escudero dangling with his back more than 7’ above the floor. He was moaning, and she could hear the fear in his voice: “Puta Madre… Please…” She looked up, seeing just the hairy back. Damn, no wonder he was so heavy - just that fur coat covering him could be 10 pounds, at least… “it’s quite a drop, isn’t it?” Many men, when held like this. lost it pretty bad. Didn’t seem to be as effective when their faces were turned downwards. Interesting, she should look into it. “Don’t worry, I got you, babe!” she said cheerfully. “For now, anyway…”

She stood for a moment, the huge man dangling in the air, limbs flailing; she was  giving Matias a nice view of her back side, her back at its full width, muscles dancing as she strained to keep her prey at maximum height, her glutes clenched, feeling the tiny thong going into her crack. She loved it. She hated that she didn’t have any photos from her sessions, to show off to Brad - though, if Nadine would come thru, this might change…
She turned around, slowly, and stood in front of the glass window that stretched across the whole wall. Escudero was whining now, and it was like music to her ears. He was just about ready… she gave Matias a good look at her front - that particular thong and bra combination one of her favorites, the white striped bra complimenting the black thong, while giving her good support - pushing her ‘boys’ up, into the nice round window it created around her chest, her already-huge pecs really standing out. She flexed them, making her breasts jump - up and down - and gave Matias a wink. He laughed, enjoying her. Yeah, the guy was really cute… Sadly, she would never do him - well, he was really loyal to his wife, but she also didn’t want to ruin that nice thing that they had.

Her arms were getting really heavy. Time for the last lag... She raised her head. “Yo, tiger - you still there?” He answered with a burst of Spanish, his voice pleading, and she couldn’t quite get it all. “I’m sorry - you want ‘suelte’? Is that it? You want down? I can drop you, no problem…” He screamed in fear: “NO! NO! Please…! I beg… put me down, please…!”

“Okey-dokey…!”

She brought her hands down in one quick motion. He screamed in pain as his back hit her rock-hard shoulders, jolting his cracked ribs. He started to slide down her back, still screaming, and she grabbed one of his legs with her right, slowing his decent, and he crashed into the floor, shoulder-first, his head next. She let go of his leg and he crumpled to the floor, laying there in a heap, moaning in pain. She moved away, stretching her limbs, catching her breath, feeling the sweat on her body. Man - this guy was HEAVY! She sighed; could it be that she WAS getting too old for this shit? Maybe it was time she found herself a new hobby… She smiled as she strolled back to her plaything. Naaah… This was way too much fun. Her knitting career would have to wait.

She bent down, grabbed his hair in one hand, the other digging into his armpit, and dragged him up. She pushed him against the reinforced glass window, holding him up by his throat, his feet splayed, his eyes level with hers. They were were hazy, unfocused - yep, a concussion, for sure - and his face was bloody, the nose out of place, the lips swollen. She slapped him with her left - gently, just wanting to get his attention. “You with me, tiger?”
His eyes moved, trying to focus. “Wha… Please…”

Matias stood up, raised his eyebrows. She nodded, and turned back to her victim. “Your patron wants to talk to you. He’ll be here in a moment. But before that...“ She looked down, and then back in his eyes, giving him a meaningful look. Her voice was now lower, throaty, sexy. “There’s something I’ve been putting off…”
He looked at her, uncomprehending, and then, slowly, his eyes widened as the realization dawned on him, and he opened his mouth to beg…

She kneed him in his testicles, viciously, and was rewarded with a silent scream, his body crumpling to the floor, hands grabbing his devastated genitalia. His silent scream was now a tormented howl. she stood over him, enjoying the moment. That sight - and sound! - more than made up for all the things she had had to refrain from doing…

Behind the glass, Matias seemed to take this almost as hard as Escuder, his face contorted, his mouth stretched in a painful grimace. Funny how men always reacted to this sight, no matter who it was done to… After a moment he looked up at her, gave her a brief smile, and turned to the door.

***
When he came out of the viewing gallery, the two medics were there, seated on chairs near the opposite side of the corridor, waiting. But so was Nadine, Collins’ secretary, and Matias thought it strange. The other times she escorted him here, she always immediately went back up; but here she was, pacing the narrow corridor, looking for all the world like an expectant father…

She looked up as he came up to the Leisure Suite’s door, a look of worry on her face.
“Is… is everything all right? I… I mean, in order?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Everything is fine. I didn’t expect to see you here…”
The look of worry washed from her face; her relief was almost tangible. “Oh… yes, well, there are some things I have to attend to in there. The… mmm… The control panel, yes.”
He smiled politely. For someone who worked for a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a major crime boss, she was a pretty bad liar. He guessed it had something to do with Melanie - that amazing woman had herself another admirer… “Well, we should be done in a few moments.” he nodded at her and pressed the lock button near the door.

Jorge Escudero was waiting for him when he walked in - standing on all four, facing the door, his head trapped between Melanie’s mammoth thighs. She smiled at him, briefly, and he acknowledged her, his face set. This was the last part, and it was delicate…

He kneeled in front of them, facing the wreck of the man who - up until a quarter of an hour ago was his top enforcer. If he were to get him back, he needed to be very precise.

“Jorge.”
Escudero was crying, a low whine that played on his nerves. He couldn’t help but pity the man. “Jorge, look at me”.
Escudero grew quiet. Slowly, painfully, he raised his eyes, looked at him. “Boss… boss, I’m… I’m…”
“Quite, Jorge. Do you know why this is happening to you?”
“Boss… I… I’m sorry… Carlos…”
“Carlos is dead. Carlos was garbage, you were my most trusted man. You were like a son to me…” A little white lie, God will forgive him. Escudero’s eyes were watering again. “Boss…”
“You were my best man. Everything you needed, I gave you. No question. Those 900,000 Pesos - they are nothing, peanuts. But you stole from me. You betrayed my trust. I can’t overlook this, do you understand?”
“Yes, boss… Please…”

Matias looked up at Melanie. A look of concentration came on her face, her tongue starting to peek out of her lips in that way that he loved. Escudero started to struggle, as Melanie’s thighs started to grow, giant slabs of veiny muscle pushing against her victim’s head, his face red, his mouth open, no sound coming out. His hands - those great, meaty monsters that over the years had strangled many a man in Matias’ service, were clutching at the iron pillars that were crushing his head, to no effect…

Matias raised his hand, his eyes locked on Escudero’s face, and Melanie stopped, easing the pressure. Matias waited for a moment, until life returned to Escudero’s face.
“Can you understand me?”
Escudero’s eyes blinked in reply. The man was beyond words.
“What happened here today stays here. You will be taken to a hospital, you will be taken care of, in a few weeks you will return home, and we will speak no more of this. Is this understood?”
The man was crying again. “Yes, yes boss… Thank you…”

Matias rose, stood up, looking down at his fallen enforcer. He knew the man will recover physically - the damage was not too severe - but will he ever be the same? Only time will tell… He looked up at Melanie. “Will you be joining us for lunch, my dear?”
She knew the kitchen staff will be pulling all the stops for a guest like Matias. It would beat a burger downtown, for sure. “Well, I’ll have to shower, get changed…”
“Of course. I will ask them to postpone to half past one, is that OK?”
“Sure.” She smiled. She pointed down, at the man trapped there. “Can I put him to sleep?”
He laughed. “Of course. How you say - knock yourself out!”
She smiled back. “Or, rather - him, right?” Moms can make dad jokes, too - feminism, bitch!
Matias leaned in, kissed her on the cheek. He had to stand on his toes, to cover the 3” gap in height, but with her he had no vanity. “One thirty, then…”

She watched as he walked away, then looked down at Jorge Escudero. “Well, it was fun while it lasted, but I have places to go... Time to go to sleep.”
The muscle cords on her thighs started dancing again, and Escudero screamed.

 

 

 

[BHIM-1965]

Mrs Lockwood is getting less vicious. Can we have some loving discipline on her naughty sons!

[spoonmaster]

Fantastic story.  Love reading stories from the guys point of view, especially when he thinks he has the upper hand only to discover he does not.

[jstans]

This is a good story.