Ode to Submission

He owned me, I knew it, he knew it.  The struggle at this point was really just for show. More for the audience and my own pointless sense of pride.  Going down without a fight was doubly humiliating with a room full of witnesses. His bicep was like a baseball mashed against my throat.

 Every flex of his arm restricting my air flow even more.  I dutifully made all the noises choking and sputtering, tugging at his arms and punching at him fighting the inevitable. My face turning red, the pouch in my trunks swelling as my ears start to ring.  I know the end is near.

He reaches his free hand down, putting the cherry on top choking me out with one arm.  His hand squeezes my growing bulge, massaging my, or rather his manhood. Squeezing his property nestled in my highcut bikini trunks.  A gasping choked moan escapes my constricted throat as he coaxes me further.  A race now to see which will take me first, the classic battle between orgasm and unconsciousness.   My eyes start to flutter as my organ fills out, taking away what little blood was still reaching my head.

My hands manage one last weak flail before falling limply to the mat.  My eyes roll back fluttering.  My defeat documented and witnessed.  The world goes black as my manhood erupts.   Put out cold and milked like a muscle bull that has discovered his hefty balls were in fact udders.  My cum smeared and seeping through my trunks, giving a soaked glaring declaration of who man and bitch were in the ring.   Carted off my back arched over my conqueror's shoulder like so much meat, destiny unknown backstage at the mercy of my new Master.  The crowd's sight zeroes in on the still semi erect tent in my cum smeared trunks.  Destroying any chance of denying that I was helpless and brought to humiliating orgasm in a crushing one sided beating that barely passed for a wrestling match. The last the crowd saw before the slam of the locker room door was my rag of poser trunks slapping the entry ramp, my discarded panties cementing to the walkway.

I was barely coming to, naked and bent over his shoulder, one look stopped any attempted interference.  I felt water hitting me and I realized he had carried me to the showers.  Before I could fully react pain exploded in my lower back and I was over his knee, looking up at his face.  He pushed my chin back, slid his free hand down my wet abs, getting a shiver as his palm brushed my sensitive organ, pushing my thigh down as well, arching my whole body in agony as pressure threatened to permanently damage my spine.  The fear he had put in the locker room kept anyone from looking in as I screamed; in further pain after the humiliating squash job in the ring.

Suddenly the pressure lessened on my chin and leg, and I moaned as the burn in my back sank into a harsh throb.  Then his hand slid between my thighs, stroking my balls that were starting to tingle feeling him taking liberty with my body, proving that he owned me body and mind when I didn't even protest; not that I could fight him off even if I wanted to, he'd already proven the better fighter. 

His fingers slid back, brushing at my entrance, a flinch of surprise and then his arm flexed and his two fingers pushed inside me.  In my gasp feeling him push, he grabbed my hair roughly snatching my head up, my face a breath away from his.  Holding me balanced on his knee as his fingers worked away at me.  His face was hard, cold, his jaw clenched to the point of vibrating as he just stared intensely.   My eyes couldn't move from his, boring deep into me, just like his fingers.  He broke in, getting a whimpering moan from me as the bolt of pleasure threatened to melt every muscle in my body.  He released my hair and grabbed my throat before my head could roll back.  Again he pulled my face close to his, by the vicegrip on my throat this time.

His face held the clenched blank expression that somehow aroused and terrified me in its laser focused intensity.  I felt his breath in sharp puffs against my mouth, my eyes locked with his.  Not wanting to leave his eyes but praying they would stop.  His fingers shift, sending a ripple through his bicep, his hand tightens choking off my moan.  He pulled my face even closer, our noses touching, his stubble scratching my jaw as he nuzzled into my neck, like an animal marking scent.

He shifted his grip on my throat, leaving his thumb tight under my Adam's Apple, not even allowing the illusion that I was going anywhere soon.  My moans came in hitching gasps as his teasing lips and rough chin left me tilting my head willingly, silently begging him to taste me again.  His jawline came in, sliding along mine and slid under, tilting my head back and drawing a low shuddering moan out of me as my neck showed his pathway in red.  The closest thing I'd seen to a smile threatened his mouth before he slid his hand back gripping my throat again.  His muscular arm spasmed, his fingers jerking quickly, spreading me, his choking grip tightened allowing the smallest squeak through my windpipe.  Showing the threat of his full strength he picked up a rhythm.  His fingers pushed in deep, hand tightening around my throat, nearly forcing my tongue past my lips in time with every ripple through his arm.  The vein wrapped over his bicep swelling in time with my arousal as I got harder, thicker, longer, and nearly delirious as I stared up trapped just as much by his gaze as his hands.  

Our eyes were locked; mine desperately pleading, his relentless, penetrating even deeper than his fingers were.  Beating down my resistances on all fronts, worked into an oxygen deprived fit of lust, contributing to the fiery web in his eyes.  My body and soul broke simultaneously, my cock throbbed so hard it audibly thumped my stomach sending a spasm through me.  A clear drop of precum leaked at the same time I shed a tear.  His hand had tightened so far in his relentless rhythm of pushing his fingers into me, massaging, prodding, coaxing, as his other hand worked to take air from me with every hum of mind numbing ecstasy.  Keeping me in constant flux.  More pre leaked on my stomach and my eyes watered more as I weakly pulled at his choking arm and managed to gasp out hoping to save myself, "P....lll.......please...please".      .  

    He released my throat instantly hearing a life saving gasp before snatching my hair up, forcing me to look at his bicep as it flexed and relaxed, each flex of that perfect round muscle sending waves of thick heat through my body.  He took a fuller grip of my hair, running his lips over the rim of my earlobe, breath hot, voice thick, "This,"  he flexed his bicep jabbing his fingers to a direct hit sending a shockwave up my spine.  My writhing wasn't tolerated for long, my hair quickly snatched again and jerked to look at his working bicep.  "Touch it" he commanded jerking my hair again for emphasis as his bicep rolled in time with the pleasure tide he had started. 

I gasped at the feeling with the next flex of muscle.  An invasion, his fingers pressing my sweet spot like a panic button, then through my hands the ripple of muscle under his skin traveled up his arm sending a tingle in my fingers just as the next ripple of pleasure was starting, and I never wanted it to stop.  My abs were burning from partially supporting myself over his knee as I rubbed his arm, feeling him fingerfuck me.  He released my hair, leaving me to keep myself up alone.  My abs were shredded to the max with the effort to flex and balance myself as I fought the urge to buck my hips and fuck myself against his heaven sent fingers.  

He flexed his free arm in front of my face.  Letting his bicep jump with every thrust inside me, "This is your pleasure, " I watched his arm flexing in front of me, again in time with each push inside, "taste it.", he growled. I eagerly worshipped his flexing muscle, kissing and running my tongue over every peak and valley.  Finally I hit the point of no return and I knew it.  I moaned between mouthfuls of rock hard muscle, "I submit, I submit I sub...I submit!" He pulled his fingers out getting a wretched sob of need as my body quivered.  He flung me off of his knee, I hit the wet tile hard unable to catch myself.  

Before I could even begin to rise, my cock painfully hard twitching for release as I moved to push myself up, he was on me, sliding my arms into a tight full nelson.  Torquing my neck down and my shoulders up, he flexed his arms lifting me slightly and I realized too late-I felt him push in, his fingers had just been the warm up.  He speared my ass, sliding in with barely any resistance after the beating he put on my hole in the backbreaker.  He started thrusting into me, getting harder, faster, my limp barely conscious body flailing helplessly.  He pounded in to the hilt and held there, my back pressed tight to his chest, whimpering in hopeful need.  then he pulled back and SLAMMED into me again.  I was done, my load came blasting out in a rocket stream straight up.  It smacked across my face and chest, so much so that I had to close my eyes to wipe it away.  My chest was smeared in the second load he'd gotten out of me tonight and I thought it would finally be over.  No such luck.

He growled as my load shot up and came back down over my shoulder.  Some landed on his arm and he yanked my head back by my hair to look at him.  His voice was dangerous and low "Clean your fucking mess!" and held up his mountainous bicep, my dribble of cum like snow on the mountaintop.  I leaned forward licking his bicep, moving around more I get my tongue into every nook and cranny of his steel arm muscle. "I think that's what you really wanted this whole time wasn't it?"  I can only moan plaintively because my mouth is full of rock hard pecs. Suddenly, he grabs my hair, jerks me around and mashes my face into the tile floor.  My head pinned down, with him keeping my ass propped up I can't even offer much resistance; any chance is obliterated when his tongue traced my rim.

He straddles my upturned ass, grinding his fat cock between my ass cheeks until I feel that unmistakeable warm splat against my back, shoulders and the rest smacking into my hair.  I groaned as he lifted me to my feet in a nelson again, my legs shaky at best after everything plus two mind blowing orgasms.  He released the full nelson only to rub that mighty bicep over my lips, then locking in a tightly sealed sleeper hold.  He walked me back into the main locker rooms, still fighting unconsciousness in his arms.

Without saying a word he steps into the middle of the locker room, dragging more than walking with me now, and stepped up on one of the benches.  Now supporting me in a hanging sleeper, my feet kicking wildly as he choked me out, he surveys the room as they watch him choke me out putting barely an ounce of effort in the task.  My struggles faded quickly, lessening to the odd weak slap at his arms, my sputtering and choking quiet into pitiful squeaks until finally, blackness takes me over.  He leaves my cum smeared body sprawled on the locker room bench, having made his message very clear.  Behind my fluttering eyelids all I saw were his arms flexing, rippling, bulging.  His voice, so seductive in my ear, "This is your pleasure" sent tremors through my whole body, locked in a spiral of my own thoughts, or maybe his thoughts.  Either way, he was the underlying thought in the back of my head at all times.

To this day I get agonizingly hard watching him flex his arms.  Owned.