[~Rox Erotique~]

To readers, writers and all fellow fetishist who indulge in the fantasy of fight What I humbly bring before you today is a different concept in Wrestle fiction writing that was the brain child of the ever delightful Alexandra Bengtsson. I do so hope you enjoy our tale as we deliver to you the diaries of two housewives with a darker side to their sunny, socialite personas. We will be posting this story back and forth, flittering between the two diaries giving different perceptions over the tale as it unfolds

We do so hope you enjoy! and as always, feel free to comment Who knows? Your thoughts and feelings may even influence the tale as it goes on! Now... On to the show


Dear Diary...
A housewife's tale.

Starring
Alexandra Bengtsson
Gemma Rox



Tuesday March 18th

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while since I wrote in you, mostly because there has been so very little to write but last night I actually had a good time! All day I’ve been looking forward to sitting down and sharing this. You see… life, for the most part, has been an utterly dull affair. Not that I want for anything you understand, it’s just there should be more to life than the acquisition of a good husband and a good home.

In truth I have been abundantly blessed with both. Damien is a loving husband, totally devoted to me and I adore him so. He has given me the most beautiful house overlooking the ocean in what has to be one of the most desirable area’s in California but as time has passed I’ve found myself feeling restless, unsated and quick to irritate. Houses like this? They hardly come for free. In fact the more idyllic the life, the higher the sacrifice. Often He is gone by 6am, on the road to work again and if I’m lucky I’ll see him home by 7pm. More often than not my luck falls short…

I know I shouldn’t be mad at him, he works so hard for us, to provide for our future. It’s just… It can be a lonely life when you’re married to a ghost. I have no children to dote on and truth be told, I have no inclination to remedy that. So months passed with nothing to do but housework and daytime TV, the repetitive monotony of existence slowly grinding me down to the bone.

Damien, being the astute man that he is could see the steady decline in me and tried his best to fix that. He knew he couldn’t give me what I wanted, more time with him, but he thought maybe if I had more friends in the area I wouldn’t look to within for fulfilment so often and enjoy life more. It was a fair assessment, I hadn’t exactly fitted in to the area well. Sure enough my neighbours are all polite and courteous, when I’m taking a run along the beach or through the neighbourhood they all nod and smile but I’m 5’3”, strewn with tattoos and piercings with often madly dyed hair. I am not exactly your typical high society housewife.

Still, after much persuading he talked me into joining a private club with him. I cannot begin to describe how nervous I was when we first arrived at the high, arching gates… These places are meat markets. The richest and the most powerful gathering with smiles on their lips and judgement in their eyes. What the hell would they make of me? And true to my fears as we walked into the quite gigantic restaurant it seemed every pair of eyes in the room was dissecting us and measuring us up.

Damien of course was a big hit. Young, attractive, strong and sharp, he took to the occasion like a duck to water. I guess he’s just used to rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful now. I on the other hand looked decidedly more like a fish out of water. After our meal we retired to the bar, I nagged for him to take us home but the suave bastard somehow persuaded me to stay. At the time I remember making a mental note to punish him for that at a later date but in truth? I ended up having a good night. It took all of 2 minutes for Damien to be dragged off to discuss some business or another, I of course smiled as he protested and assured him “No darling, go and talk shop, really, I’ll be fine” I smiled and cooed, hiding my inner rage and the older men smiled back. I guess I can play the darling wife quite well I suppose, but as soon as they were gone I had a knot in my stomach so tight I thought I was going to hurl… Until she talked to me.

I remember hearing a husky, silky voice politely ask “Miss Rox isn’t it?” and turned around, quite stunned. Greeting me was a woman who seemed to radiate the word refined. Standing at around 5’5” in a blue dress that shimmered like a star. Her accent, if I had to guess, was Texan. She wasn’t just rich, she was Texas rich and there has always been something a little intimidating about that.

I stammered back my response like a gawking fool. “I… erm…. Mrs… but yes. I’m Gemma Rox. Please to meet you” Something about being in her presence just made me feel even odder than I already did. Sure I looked great, this was a $4,000 dress and I wore it well, but the tattoos, the hair, just the very awkwardness of me being me seemed to scream out like a siren, especially next to her with all her refinement and class. But her smile was warm, disarming and gentle

“Of course darlin’ foolish of me to presume. It’s unheard of here for a wife not to take her husband’s name and Damien’s surname is Arkwright isn’t it?” she replied, her southern accent lilting and playful

“Haha… y… yes it is. I guess I am somewhat of an oddity I suppose” I responded. I found it odd that this stranger knew my husband’s surname but then again we’ve lived in the area for a few months now and people talk.

My accent in contrast is very formal and genteel. Growing up in Cheltenham, England I’ve kept my accent well.

“Well sugar, I don’t mind being the first to tell you that we’re all odd in this place” she smiled back and took my arm in hers. I didn’t complain, I didn’t even realise she had done it until I was suddenly sat by the bar with her instead of at my table. She just moves and you follow. She never asked if I’d like to accompany here, it’s just expected I suppose.

We talked for a while and laughed quite a lot. I must admit she did wonders to put me at ease and after 2 gin and tonics we were chatting and giggling like old friends. Damien came back from the gentleman’s lounge looking worried, he’d been gone for too long and was perhaps concerned that he’d left me all alone but my new companion, Mrs Hamm, Wife of Oil Baron Harold Hamm soon waved him off and told him in no uncertain terms that “Us women so rarely need a man’s company to enjoy ourselves. Go! Have fun with all the other boys’ darlin’! We’ll be just fine”. Her tone was playful and jovial of course, the 47 year old high society veteran is most skilled in charming guests and strangers alike.

Soon after Mrs Hamm took my arm again and gave me the tour of the place from top to bottom. The place is HUGE! Long winding corridors spilling forth into amphitheatres and conference rooms. She took me to one room in particular, a large gymnasium, the floor was entirely padded out and with a fantastic selection of equipment, plus what looked like a ring in the centre and her face took on a peculiar smile

“Somethin’ tells me that you might find this room especially to your liking” She giggled and I must admit, even now I’m not sure what to make of that giggle. I mean…. It’s a gym. I’d likely spend much more time in the bar…

“Well, I guess” I replied “I do like working out I suppose and it’s better equipped than the gym at home” As I finished her hands started prodding and touching me, squeezing my arms and feeling my tummy under my dress. I felt a little awkward as she poked around my body

“Like workin’ out? Honey, Look at that body! I bet you could handle yourself better than any of those tired old men Back in the lounge!” she grinned

“I…. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean” I stammered back, a little confused at this odd change of conversation

“Oh come now… I bet you that Damien’s arm is worn out with all the patting and the handshakes he’s getting’ back in the lounge from all the other men congratulating him on bagging such a lil’ spitfire! And believe me, I don’t often lose my bets!” she finished with a wink before taking me back to the bar.

For the rest of the night we chatted and drank, she introduced me to some notable characters and for the first time since we moved out here I felt normal. Mrs Hamm even gave us both membership and invited me to the clubs Self Defence class on Thursday. I was a little confused as to why she seemed so excited about that, we live in one of the nicest, safest areas in California, if not America. Is self-defence really that much of an issue? Maybe it’s a Texas thing…

I smiled cordially and accepted the invitation of course and we continue drinking and merrymaking until my jaw dropped… in from the restaurant walks this… this goddess. Long, flowing blonde hair, a curvaceous body wearing a white strapless dress that flowed all the way down her 5’7” body. If I had to guess I’d say she was 25 but she carried herself with the self-assuredness of a woman much older. Our eyes meet. Well… I’m not sure meet is the right word. It felt more like they locked. I couldn’t turn away from her predatory gaze… not that she was aggressive, there was a smile over that beautiful face but there was also a hunger in those eyes. I haven’t been able to get those piercing blue eyes out of my mind since.

“Alexandra!” Mrs Hamm called out and waved the blonde woman over “I have some sad news I’m afraid. You’re no longer the prettiest girl in the room!” She giggled and gestured towards me. My face erupted in maybe the biggest blush I’ve ever had in my life. The blonde woman smiled and leant in, kissing Mrs Hamm on each cheek

“My dear, I stop being the prettiest girl in the room every time you walk in” she cooed, her accent clipped and European, Swedish I’d guess. And those eyes… With her this close I could see the bright, pristine blue of them.

“Oh come on now… You have to be careful of this one Gemma, She’d charm you into handing over your purse and you’d thank her for it! A real silver tongued devil… Yes. That tongue is a deadly weapon, isn’t that right Alex?” Mrs Hamm smiled and they both share a laugh that somehow seemed like an in joke between the two of them. At this point I’m still in awe and jaw dropped.

I freeze even more when she leant in and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. Her full, 36dd breasts pressed into mine in the process and I instantly felt less of a woman compared to her.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs Arkwright” she purred

“It’s Mrs Rox actually” Hamm corrected

“Oh? I thought you were married to the new lad? Damien was it?” she responded. It seems the whole town know who we are…

“Erm… yes, I… I kept my surname. I guess I’m just stubborn like that” I stammered back, I was still in awe of this woman and I well… I still am even as I write this.

“Oh? Stubborn huh? Well that IS good news!” she grinned widely “We need more stubbornness in this place! It was getting far too stuffy. Have you signed up to the self-defence classes yet?” She asked optimistically and I look perplexed again. Why is everyone so enamoured with a self-defence class?

“erm… y…. yes. Mrs Hamm invited me to a class this Thursday” As I respond both women started to look me up and down and I felt oddly violated… like they were measuring me up for a cattle market or something

“Well, I should drive Simon home before another Brandy magically finds its way into his hand” Alex said, her Swedish accent made it sound like she was almost singing the words

“Don’t be too hard on him. Marrying a woman like you could drive any man to drink” Mrs Hamm laughed and the two of them parted ways.

I must admit the rest of the night was a little bit of a blur after that, meeting this person and that, the rich and the powerful, the people who shape the state of California and they all seemed to like me. We got a cab home and I couldn’t help smiling all the way, although the idea of a self-defence class is quite dull to me, I can’t wait to go back there again on Thursday. Finally my life is getting more interesting!

x G x

[Boche]

thank you very very much Gemma, it had been such a long long time that I have read something from you

[howardcosell]

Great start, Gemma. A somewhat naive fish out of water, and a lot of potential for chaos and corruption. Wonderful work, as always 

[Toni_1]

Gemma,

You are going to have us all riveted to our screens over the coming days and weeks.

You have created a very original plot , not unlike an experience I had way back when.

Again it seems that this genre of story is best written by us women, since we know the actuality of feminine confrontations, and the men can only dream about.

I can't wait to read more.

Kisses,

Toni.

[Kayla]

Nice setting of the scene! 

hugs
Kayla

[ThePurpleVixen]

There are good writers, who have a grasp of natural dialogue and a clear and organic understanding of the fight they want to present.

There are great writers, who write lines that we remember and set captivating scenes and break new ground.

And then there's Gemma, up in the fucking firmament of imagination and brilliance.

[The Second City Wrestlerette]

I'm not quite sure what to say other than: It's so good to see you're back with the cyber-pen in your grasp. Things are so dull without you, Gemma

[AlexandraB]

Thanks everyone for reading this! I really hope that you enjoy and will keep following this story. Because I can prommies you all, things are about to really get exciting for our dear Housewife's! And here.... Part 2!



Tuesday March 18th

Dear diary,

Isn’t life just remarkable? Looking back on the past two months, turning the pages back in this journal, I read about this stunning shift of my perspective about living here in America. Moving here this January was quite a daunting prospect, leaving my safe little hometown back in Sweden where I always knew what was going on and what everyone was doing. And then, abruptly torn away from that life, when Simon got the job of his dreams “in the always sunny California” as he put it. At first, I didn’t like it here. Not at all. But well, I guess I have been over that a thousand times already, so I might just stop filling these pages about my hard struggle to try to fit in as a high society housewife. After all, it seems like I have done a pretty good job.

Of course, the biggest and most exciting change these past months has been Mrs. Hamm’s Thursdays Club-meeting. So far, they have been more than I could ever imagine. More than I ever could have thought that evening when she asked me to come visit her “Self-defense class”. In one way you really could call it self-defense I guess but perhaps it is not the most correctly term if you really wanted to describe what it's all about.

Yeah, every time we have a class I leave longing for the next one. Especially after my little shortcoming last time, meeting Mrs. Stone for that first time. But well… I guess I have been over that a few times before as well.

However, things only seem to get more and more interesting around here, something I can really appreciate after the first few dull weeks in this country. From spending my days doing the house works, which of course takes it fair share of my time considering the ridiculous size of it, running on the beach and try keeping my body in shape, there was not much for me to do here. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to be really, really happy about. But I guess that is the down side of being married to a successful man.

But then, it also has it’s more favorable sides. And sometimes it seems like those little sides shows up when you are at least expecting them. Just like it did yesterday.

Being invited over to Mr. and Mrs. Hamm parties is of course always something extraordinary. I don’t think you could go anywhere in the whole US and find more elegant, high society people at one place as you do when you visit their spectacular club house. actually, writing that even feels odd... House? God, it is much more like a mansion. And yesterday was no exception.

I arrived a bit late since Simon had one of his many important business meetings out of town. We of course informed our hosts that we would not be making it in time for dinner but didn’t seem to bother either Mr. or Mrs. Hamm. As we arrived, I think there were more than 50 guests already there, each and every one more important, rich and influential than the next. I guess that if you should go somewhere to kidnap people, this would be the place to be. Perhaps that was just what was running through Mr. Jacob’s head when he saw me and Simon. At least it took him less than a minute to convince my dear husband to follow him to the garden where he had some people Simon just had to meet.

Even after all these weeks every time he's whisked away I begin to feel like the Swedish small town girl that I really am. When Simon, my safety blanket in situations like this, is being pulled away from me, I feel more alone that anyone possible should be able to feel when being surrounded by so many people. I hate it. But of course by now I've worked out a strategy for it. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and cursing Simon for leaving me, I just women up to it. Turning on my most winning charm and confident smile, I simply rise to the occasion. Also, in situations like this I guess being a young, blonde, busty swede do has its perks. And, I am very glad I did turn on that charm last night.

After some friendly chatting with two of our neighbors, a tremendously boring pair of people, I decided to move over to the bar area where I hoped to find someone more interesting to talk to. And God, didn’t I?

After only taken a few steps inside the room, I heard Mrs. Hamm’s voice calling out for me. Not been knowing her for too long, it kind of struck me how friendly and affable her tone was while calling me name. Like we have been friends forever. However, that was not the most conspicuous thing about the scene playing up in front of me.

Because right there, next to the always smiling, über confident, everywhere-I-go-I-fit-in-perfect Mrs. Hamm sat this young woman I've never seen before. God, it is so hard to describe her. In parties like these I often get the feeling that all the guests are somehow relatives. At least the women. They look the same, talk the same and dress the same. Overly expensive dresses. Fancy jewelry. Perfect hair and make up. Well, not that I differ too much from that classic rich woman look either, wearing my most expensive dress and valuable necklace. But this girl... she was something else.

Her smaller body, well smaller compared to mine, just looked so hot in the dress she was wearing. But that was not the thing that made her so special. Like a complete contrast to just about every other women she had her hair dyed, her arms were covered in tattoos and God, wasn’t she beautiful? Her big breasts pushing out the fabric of her fancy dress, almost challenging the seams holding it together. It was hard for me to try and keep my calm and confident walking up to that girl but boy, I sure hope I managed to.

I think I exchanged some words with Mrs. Hamm first, but I can’t really recall what we said. All I could think about was this new, gorgeous woman.
“It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Arkwright” I said, as I realized who this woman must be.
“It’s Mrs Rox actually” Hamm said, all out of sudden reminding me she was still in the room.
Hopefully I manage to smooth my little mistake there over. Some of the women in places like this sure take their names and titles very serious. And I don’t want to be the girl making a bad first impression.

It was not hard for me to understand why Mrs. Hamm had taken this girl under her wings tonight. Just remembering my first night at the Hamm’s February part, the first time I met Mrs. Hamm myself. And how she convinced me to visit her again, the very next Thursday. Thinking about all this, I just had to ask this astonishing Mrs. Rox.
“Have you signed up for the self-defence class yet?”
“Ehmm.. Y.. yes. Mrs. Hamm invited me to a class this Thursday” she answered to my great happiness.

Feeling much more easy on my heart with that, I decide it was time to find my dear husband again. Not that we really had to leave this early, but more that I was not sure how I could keep Mrs. Hamm and Mrs. Rox company any longer without being caught staring at this new woman. After all, she did say she was coming this Thursday! God, how I look forward to it!

Ohh, I almost forgot to put this down. I actually had another interesting little meeting that evening. Leaving the bar to find Simon, I all out of sudden heard a voice close to my ear.
“Hey there, kiddo.”
Turning around, I found myself face to face with Mrs. Stone. It was the first time I have seen her since my first experience at Mrs. Hamm’s special club meeting. And I must say, tensions were running pretty high.
“Hello Mrs. Stone” I said, trying to be all polite and friendly.
She smiled and looked around, making sure no one could hear us.
“Glad to see you kiddo. Back on your feet” she whispered to me.
It was hard not to blush my whole head off after those words, thinking about our last meeting.
“I always bounce right back up” I replied, also in a very low voice.
“I can tell.” Her smile was everything but friendly. “But perhaps you should keep away from the club from now on. It is nothing for rookies you know.”
God, how I wanted to smack her in the face. Looking at her smiling at me like that. More confident than if she had owned this whole mansion we were standing inside.
“Well. Luckily, I am a quick learner” I said and turned around to walk away from her.
“Yes, you better be, Mrs. Bengtsson.” I heard her soft voice. “Otherwise you are in a world of trouble.”
Damn, I really don’t like that woman!

I wish I could say that I had answered her back. But as the memories of our last little meeting, it was really hard to come up with something to say. All I could think of, which sounds pretty lame now when I think back to it, was to turn around and look her in the eyes again.
“Well, I'll see you Thursday… Mrs. Stone.”

I don’t know if it was the meeting with Mrs. Rox that made my brain completely empty of a smart come back answer. Or if it was the humiliating fact to meet Mrs. Stone like this. However, I sure have to work on my more sassy side it seems. I can not only walk around being the young, blonde swede I guess.

Now I must really go to bed. Simon fell asleep as soon as his muscular body hit the mattress. But I guess that is only for the best. I mean, could I even try to resist thinking of our new girl while in bed? Well.. So far, it seems like I have had no luck with that.

I will try to write soon again. Of course, if everything will go well on Thursday, I hope I will have tons of material to write about.

Love, Alex.

[Fw190 A]

You two look like you may have something memorable started here. Keep it up!

[howardcosell]

This is outstanding!! I love it when writers collaborate here. Welcome Alexandra and your contribution adds a lot to the wonderful story. It's a very unique concept.

[Jonica]

HOW IN THA **** DID I MISS THIS?!?!  DAMMIT Gemma....you're supposed to send me links....or hit me in the head with your laptop so I don't miss anything.



*hugs*

J
xoxo

[~Rox Erotique~]

*buys the oldest, biggest, heaviest laptop I can find*

Ready, willing and able bitch

And thanks for everyone who has responded so kindly to our concept! Part three will be up soon....

x G x

[peccavi]

waiting for it Gemma

[RedEnforcer]

So Gemma suggested I read this. What can I say about this that no one else hasn't already?

[~Rox Erotique~]

Thursday 20th March

Dear Diary,

I don’t think I’ll be going back to the social club, not after tonight. My god… I don’t think I could face any of them ever again.

To think diary, Tuesday I was so eager to sit down and write in you… I thought my life had turned around here. I genuinely thought I could be accepted and could make friends but now? I’m not sure if these are the friends I want to make… I don’t know. Maybe writing this to you will help me to vent and think clearly. Lord knows I could never talk about this to Damien!

Well… I went back to the club this afternoon as invited. I was looking forward to seeing everyone again and although the idea of a self-defence class was quite a mundane one it was nice to know that there would be no pretention or fancy dresses or talk of business. I went down in a nice pair of black tight shorts and a matching sports bra with gold trim all underneath a thin grey hoodie. The club itself is only a mile away so I jogged there to warm up before the training session.

It was early, about 2pm. I had a call off Mrs Hamm asking me to come down early for an induction to the gym which in itself isn’t an unusual thing, most gyms do inductions, after all, with such heavy equipment and physical exertion the chance of accident or injury is high and this is America… why blame yourself for an injury you caused when you can sue someone else?

When I turned up Mrs Hamm wasn’t alone… Mrs Bengtsson, the blonde girl from the other night was there and if possible she looked even better than the other night. Her outfit was a stark contrast to mine, a pair of white shorts and sports bra with a sky blue trim. It took every ounce of my willpower not to stare at that momentous bounty under her straining sports bra and I think by the wry smile she was wearing she knew it.

I introduced myself again only without the gin blocking my inhibitions this time my voice had a little stutter and stammer. I don’t know why this woman made me feel so nervous, maybe it was her eyes? They looked hungry. Mrs Hamm took my hand and led me to a bench by the side of the ring, holding my hand and squeezing it gently. Her smile was warm and loving but the speech she gave me? That will stay with me the rest of my life… I’ll try and recite it for you

“Hey darlin’ now I know you came here for a lil’ workout, maybe learn a lil’ self defence an all that’s gonna happen! Rest assured honey. But first I need to tell you why it is I set up this lil’ ole class here.”

“You see… when me and Mr Hamm first rolled up into this place there weren’t no fund raisers… no weekend social… no parties and this big ole club house was emptier than Mr Hamm’s head! The place was a mess. You know why?”

I remember shaking my head, at this point I was infatuated, her soft, lilting Texas accent, the way she talked, the way she smiled, it was mesmerising.

“Women. Every woman here wanted what the other had. It was ugly as sin… an’ after a month I had just about enough of it. The women would bicker and fight, and not even in private! They would scream and shout in the clubhouse no less! The shame of it… The men would watch in embarrassment, and roll their eyes. Ya see…. In a community like this a clubhouse is an important thing. It allows men to do business that they wouldn’t normally be able to do in the confines of an office. It builds alliances, it makes money. And I do so love making money… but all that stopped. Through all the arguments and bickering people stopped coming, men stopped doing business and the community was dead. All because the women couldn’t get along…”

“Now see… that brought about an idea in this ole head of mine. You see women will always bicker, they’ll always covet what the next one has, judge the other, mock the other… This is high society. And if you’re not the queen of the castle you’re nothing. So… I had an idea to focus all that aggression. To placate the warring nature inside of us and unleash it one night a week. Like a pressure valve. That one night is where we could just set free our rage and settle all our scores… leaving the rest of the week to being a community again. Now I ain’t gonna lie to you, every girl I talked to about this be they a pretty lil thing like you an Mrs Bengtsson over there or a wizened old warhorse like myself looked at me like I’d just shot the president when I broached the subject and I know you will too… but honey, you gotta trust me on this… if you wanna be part of this community? You gotta join the club darlin’ “

I was stunned and a little confused. The other night everyone seemed so together, so happy. The idea that this place used to tear itself apart was somewhat hard to believe. Then there was this whole ‘one night a week’ thing… I had no idea what she was talking about but soon enough she got up, holding my hand and led me un the steel stairs and before I knew what had happened I was in the ring. I hate how she has that transfixing aura… I looked to my left and I saw that Mrs Bengtsson was now wearing a referee’s top and my eyes widened…

I remember gasping out a stammered response. It’s strange, I can remember every word she said as if it’s burnt into my core but I don’t have a clue what I said. I think I asked her if she was planning to fight me, my hands trembling and she just purred and smiled

“Why yes I am darlin’ and you’re gonna fight me back… Here’s how it’s gonna go down. I’m probably gonna beat the snot out of you now. I’m gonna strip you an’ I’m gonna fuck you. In this very ring. I’ve done the same thing to every woman in this club including young Alex here. Hehe… that was quite recently, wasn’t it darling’?” she giggled and I could see the normally cool, sultry Mrs Bengtsson blush. “She’s new, just like you but she took part and is one of us now, still learning the ropes mind you… Ya see Gemma, we all step in this ring and sometimes we win, sometimes we lose… but after it’s done, all that aggression is worked out until next week”

I whispered meekly back “B…. but I don’t have any aggression towards you…”

She spoke like it was nothing. As natural as breathing. I just reeled from the words. She wanted to FIGHT me. She wanted to STRIP me. She wanted to FUCK me. And the thought popped into my head that Mrs Hamm always gets what she wants… I just stood there with my jaw dropped open as she unfurled her robe and handed it to Mrs Bengtsson, she stood in just a tiny dark green string bikini with matching wrestling boots. I… I was flabbergasted. Her body was older, I’m guessing she was approaching 50 now, maybe even past that, her skin had that leisurely tan of a woman who has holidayed more than she’s ever worked. But my goodness she was in shape… her breasts were huge and imposing, her body had a power to it I never first noticed, but I must say it wasn’t as tight as mine. Youth does have it’s advantages, not that I’m really all that young anymore of course but in this social circle I’m one of the youngest. But Mrs Hamm… it’s as if she’s a different woman to the charming socialite that greeted me two days ago and now… now she wanted to beat me up? To FUCK me?!?!

She approached and put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. I remember thinking her fiery red hair matched the intensity of her gaze and that intensity seemed to magnify tenfold as she spoke “Get through today, ok? Take the hits, take the punishment, and dish a little out if you can find the inner strength… but don’t walk out. You walk out? You don’t walk back. Y’understand me darlin’? I built a community here where there weren’t a damn scrap ‘o’ one. And it only works if we’re all in this together. If word got out of all the stuff we got up to in these gym walls? It’ll bring down all of us… That’s why we can’t have anyone in the community who ain’t a part of the… self-defence class. It’s like an insurance, Y’understand? The other girls? They’d never trust you if you weren’t part of this. They’d feel like you had something over on them. I can’t have one weak link jeopardising everything I’ve built here. So you ain’t gonna tell a soul about this. Not your pretty lil husband and not any of your friends back in rainy old Cheltenham”

I nodded. I don’t know why. Every ounce of my 5’3” 105lbs was screaming at me to run. To fly through those big gym doors and never come back but her gaze, her hypnotic gaze just held me in spot. The way she talked was so commanding. Instantly I knew she was the reason her family were one of the wealthiest in America. Nobody says no to her. Nobody.

“OK honey… rules ain’t strict but kinda like pro wrastlin’… lets get it on” she growled with a predatory grin and started to circle me

“B… but… I don’t know how to wrestle” was my meek response. God… even writing this now I’m ashamed of myself. She responded with a wink and the words “You will soon enough honey” and then she was on me. She moved so damn fast. In a blink of an eye her powerful hands were pushing me back towards the corner, one hand pushing my shoulder, the other gripping my arm near the elbow. I tried with all my might to push back but she just powered me into the corner with ease. I remember vividly the shock as my back hit the turnbuckles, then I remember another shock…

My eyes widened in horror as my cheeks filled with the air that was suddenly and painfully expelled from my lungs through what felt like a wrecking ball. As I doubled over I could see it was her knee. Her fucking knee! I thought she hit me with a battering ram… Even as I write this my abs still ache. I wasn’t kept doubled over for long though as she quickly threw up her right arm, smashing my face with the crux between her bicep and forearm. I have no idea what that was. It certainly wasn’t a punch but it hurt just as bad and sent my brain rattling. She didn’t stop though, gripping my right hand she ran out of the corner dragging me then hurled me across the ring. I was amazed at the power she had! I was flung into a full sprint and I couldn’t stop. Luckily I’ve seen a few wrestling matches on TV and knew I really should take this hit with my back not my front so at the last minute I twisted and smashed into the far turnbuckles with a horrific force.

The scream I let out was monstrous. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so loud… the impact bounced me clean out of the corner and I staggered a few clumsy steps, back arched, both hands rubbing it as the room spun around me. I’d soon learn how stupid my reaction was though. So caught up in the pain and the aching I never even saw her coming and she came at me like a damn freight train. Her arm, still quite toned despite her age crashed across my breasts like a baseball bat at full swing as she barrelled across the canvas and drove a clothesline right through me. It hit me so hard my head and arms and legs were flung forward while my body was driven back, like a god damn cartoon character.

The boom the ring made as my back slammed against the boards was one of the loudest things I’d ever heard. The room was still spinning, those hot ring lights beating down from above seemed to dance and sway. The heat was still enough though. My body was sweating hard now but my pain was just beginning. She stood over me, nothing more than an ominous shadow as the overhead lights blinded me but her words were clear enough, that soft, lilting southern drawl was hissed and vicious now.

“Get up you fuckin’ whore… I ain’t done with your skank ass by a long shot”

Ughh… just recalling this is making me want to cry. Seriously diary? What have I got myself into? I just wanted to fit in.

So anyway…. She gripped my hair and yanked me up to my feet. I vividly remember the sharp piercing pain in my scalp was nothing like the heavy, dull impactive pains I was put through up to that point. Before tonight I never even knew there were so many types of pain. I screeched and gasped as I was literally dragged to my feet and then my eyes widened again.

She grabbed me.

She… she grabbed me between my thighs.
Rubbed.
She rubbed me.
I can still feel her hand there, she squeezed and rubbed and molested my pussy… I was so shocked I didn’t even move. Didn’t even try and stop her. I just stood there with my eyes wide and watering, my mouth open in a silent scream. But she ensured I didn’t stand there too long.

Her hand switched from sensual to painful, tightening her grip and crushing my sex. That forced a meek squeal from me. The reason for her shift? Power… She hoisted with more strength that I ever thought a woman of her years could manage. She lifted me clean off the floor and hoisted me upside down, parading me around the ring like a trophy. Her left hand hooked around my shoulder and neck, her right still gripping my pussy tight. Then she started to really taunt me

“I gotta admit sugar, you’re a big fuckin’ disappointment! Such a fuckin’ sissy… Is this all you got? I could beat on you all day! To think that hot lil’ hubby of yours is stuck with a frigid little cxnt like you…”

Something in me snapped the second she mentioned Damien and I snapped

“FUCK YOU WHORE!”

It was only three little words, quite pathetic really but I think it’s what Hamm was farming for. As she replied I could hear the smile in my voice, like all this was just a test to see if I had any fight in me

“Mmmmmm… there’s the tattooed little slut I first saw, been waitin’ to meet ya sugar tits! Hehe… I was getting’ tired of that timid shit darlin’! But now it’s time to beat that fight out of ya… Time to introduce you to your first body slam”

With that she took a few steps forward then hurled me down, back first. My body spun 90 degrees hard as I dropped and then… then my back fucking exploded. In one brutal slam my spine was numbed, my body shocked, my ever muscle spasmed in pain and my lungs busted, unable to breath. I just laid there spread eagle, chest rising and falling, pure agony written all over my face. It felt like getting hit by a bus. Little did I know that was just the start.

Mrs Hamm scooped me up again and I begged, I pleaded in fact. I spluttered and stammered no no no no no no ever so quickly. She just laughed and body slammed me again, if anything this one was harder than the first, after the impact the base of my spine was struck with sharp, stabbing agony. This time I screamed, a low, basey, breathless scream and my legs pushed off, arching on my heels and my shoulders, trying to relieve the pressure on my agonised back.

She scooped me up another 3 times and slammed me down, each time taunting me and insulting me as I squirmed and groaned on the canvas.

My body was dripping with sweat now, my lungs on fire, gasping dryly for any air they could get. I never knew getting your arse kicked could exhaust you so much. My every breath felt like I was sucking down fire and glass. She reached down for a sixth time and pulled me up by my hair and I groaned out a broken “No” not knowing if I could possibly survive another body slam

“Oh don’t worry darlin’ I promise I’m done body slammin’ you for now. It’s time to end this lil rumble now, cxnt” was her reply. I remember hanging onto her strong, toned body, my legs unable to carry me. Knees wobbling and calves trembling.

She scooped me up again only this time she didn’t hold me upside down, she held me across her body. She held me there for a long time, taunting me

“Oh baby doll… This is gonna end you honey, but I just want you to know, this lil move here? It aint even in my top ten” she boasted, letting me know that what I’m about to feel is the tip of the iceberg of what she is capable of “So that in mind, let me introduce you to your very first… Backbreaker…”

I can recall the mind numbing terror that struck me so vividly. It still shocks me in truth. A Backbreaker? I thought at the time ‘is she planning on KILLING me?’ I couldn’t help but think that she’s rich enough to get away with it…

She hoisted me up higher, getting up to tiptoes and I screamed ‘no’ louder and longer than I ever have until she hurled me down fast, dropping to one knee she smashed my spine across her toned thigh. My body arched brutally, the shock, the pain and the sheer agony ripped my mind apart. I was a quivering, sobbing wreck and she was laughing.

Writing this now I’m wincing and sitting funny. My back still feels like it’s on fire no matter how many pills I take. At the time, bent across her thigh all arched and screaming I honestly thought my back was broken. It was only after 10 seconds of total pain and misery did I realise that I wouldn’t be able to feel her hand sliding up my thigh if my back was broken.

Yeah… her hand slid up my thigh. To say I was vulnerable would be an understatement but she didn’t even hesitate. Her hand rode up and before I could beg for her to stop I felt her fingers rubbing my mound over the stretched fabric of my tight shorts. She humiliated me… Her touch down there was more devastating to me than every slam and impact I’d suffered put together. My eyes watered instantly as the shame overwhelmed me and then, just as I was about to plead for her to stop her left hand pushed down on my chin and arched my spine the wrong way as I leaned across her thigh.

The cry I gave out was choked and gargled. When I was growing up I always saw on TV how the wrestlers roared and howled in the holds but the truth is with your body arched like that you’re lucky if you can capture enough air to breathe, let alone scream. My arms flailed and clawed at the air, my spine creaked and made terrifying popping noises and my stifled cries grew weaker as the delicate fingers of her right hand brought me close to ruinous orgasm even as she tortured me.

It was around then she called over to Alex and just roared “ASK HER REF!” I’d never heard that before but instantly Alex kneeled down beside me, her face stern and professional. Then in that clipped, sensual Swedish accent barked out “Gemma, do you submit?”

I was bewildered, disorientated and riding a turbulent sea of enforced pleasure and crippling pain. I just stared at Alex through blurry, tearful eyes and she barked out again, almost as if she could sense that I was too baffled to understand her. “GEMMA! Do you submit? If you give all this will be over, Gemma… Just say the words” she asked again.

That second time the words sunk through the haze of the pain Mrs Hamm was inflicting on me and I cried out I give over and over again. I should give Mrs Hamm credit for dropping the hold straight away but it’s hard to give credit to a woman who beat the shit out of me and molested me. I laid on the floor writhing and sobbing as Mrs Hamm took a knee beside me and started stroking my hair softly as she spoke.

She told me I did well for my first fight. That Texan drawl had a soft smile in it as she complimented me on how tough I was, said most girls would have given up after the first minute. Truth is I was too shell-shocked to give up. I’m not tough, I’m just fucking dumb. I’ll never forget what she told me next…

“Darlin’ I’m sure right now you hate my guts, right? Well cupcake you’re gonna have to suck it up! Because if you want to survive in high society? This is gonna be part of your life. We all felt what you’re feeling right now sugar but sooner or later somethin’ strange is gonna happen. At first you’re gonna avoid us like the plague, do everything you can to get us out of your head but then one day you’re gonna be goin’ about your daily business and suddenly you’ll feel it. You’ll feel this horrible urge to come back here and kick my sweet Texan ass. Or if you can’t get to me you’ll wanna kick someone else’s… You’ll realise that the only way to get past what happened today is to wipe that loss out with a win and you’ll fight and fight and fight until you get it. Then as you’re standing in that ring, some woman groaning and sweating at your feet with you standing like a damn goddess under these hot ring-lights you’ll realise that it ain’t the winning that was important to you after all. It was the fight.”

The way she talked was so confident and knowing. Almost happy that she had set me on some magical path of discovery where the truth is all I want to do is cry.

I’m never going to go back there.

Not ever.

x G x