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.                  

Jobber Spotlight: Ted Dibiase Jr.

Since it didn't seem able to maintain a weekly schedule, I have changed the "Jobber of the Week" to "Jobber Spotlight"  lol so I don't feel so guilty posting an "of the week" topic every three months.
So, today's spotlight will be on Ted DiBiase Jr.  I haven't watched RAW or Smackdown etc. in a very long time.  No cable, or network television for that matter and I only occasionally read up on blogs and forums to catch up on what's going on.  As you can see I hardly have time to write about it every week, let alone getting to sit down and just enjoy a wrestling marathon.  Mini rant finished, I went into all of that to say that I don't know if Ted has picked up in his win column, or if he's still making a living getting creamed and looking great doing it.  Either way, during that harsh losing streak last year I have to say I was always excited to see him coming down the ramp and wondering who was going to mop the floor with the Million Dollar Boy. He had a knack for making it look sexy and sometimes even erotic (see: his feud with Randy Orton) getting his ass kicked all around the ring.  Certainly in the top list for Jobber Gold.

 

 

Pretty In Pink (Continued Easy Breezy Beautiful)

Lamb to my Slaughter

I turned around and saw him coming in from the showers, a perfect stack of jobber muscle, thick semi hard cock bouncing between his thighs, and teasing that damp never ending hair with an oversized towel.  As he walked by me his thigh brushed my bulge and it took everything in me not to moan out loud.  Adonis looked over and smirked at me pulsing hardon.  "Looks like somebody enjoyed his last match" and winked at me.  I knew it was wrong, I knew I just needed to play this right and this blonde bitch would be my plaything for life if not for the night.  But I could feel my temperature rising, my whole  head was throbbing in time with my pulse.  If anybody noticed the rapidly dissolving self control and the grip that was bending my locker door in my fist they certainly didn't say anything-maybe they wanted to see this prettyboy get maimed as much as I wanted to do the maiming.

He made his way to his locker and after another look back at the pulsing bulge in my jock, he reached in and instead of the trunks I had seen hanging he pulls out a neon pink thong, and bends in a perfect pike position to slip the tiny string up his legs.  That ass, his shredded quads in full relief was too much and I couldn't hold myself back.  as soon as he snapped that pink string in place between his ample cheeks I was on him, grabbing a fistful of that sunbeam yellow hair SLAMMED his head into his locker door and AGAIN, then pulled close to me and clamped on a rear naked choke, growling in his ear "and I'm going to enjoy this too bitch boy."  He choked and sputtered flailing in my grip, my cock throbbed against his ass as he struggled uselessly.  I switched my grip to a full nelson, almost making him kiss his own pecs, my bulge surging as I felt him getting weak and his breath coming more labored as I kept him air tight in the nelson.  I leaned back to lift him up, his bare feet off the ground like a muscle marionette and walked him back out to the closed ring area intending to have some private time with my new .

There were a few members of the audience still hanging back and not moving on to the main arena for the Headliner match, at this point I was in full beast mode and didn't give a single fuck about any audience that might collect while I pulverized this meatsack.  Adonis was kicking and cussing the whole way to the ring and got the laggers interested in this unsanctioned surprise match.  As we got to the ring, I start laughing at his pitiful struggles, a small spot of pre dampens my jock pouch from his constant twisting and squirming against me.  I changed my grip against the back of his head, still keeping the nelson I forced him to headbutt the ringpost BANGING his head three times against the cold metal before releasing the full nelson.

Drew can't catch a break

I immediately clutched the tailstrap of that bright thong and wrapped his gold tresses in my fingers I spun him around in a circle wedging that day glo string HIGH up his bubble ass and launched him under the ropes into the ring.
I slid in right after him and as he tried to fix that thong wedgie groaning in pain I sent a hard soccer kick to his midsection sending him flying further into the center of the ring.  I planted my foot over his head and gave a sick double bicep pose to the crowd (including some of our fellow grapplers in various states of dress that had come to see what all the commotion was).  I yelled "Who wants to see Malibu Barbie get bitched?!?!!"  The crowd immediately started cheering as if their life depended on it.  The volume and intensity of the response even surprised me considering the fairly small size of the crowd.  I took my foot off the punk's head and snatched his face from the mat by his long wet hair "You hear that Goldilocks? you're about to get mauled by this bear." I kept his head pulled up and SLAMMED 5 kicks right between his shoulder blades, then I planted my foot right in the same spot, I FLEXED my leg pressing into his spine and my arm was shredded to the max keeping my ripping grip on his hair until finally he started to kick at the mat Screaming in pain and finally said please.  I let his hair go, my flexed leg bashing him back into the mat on his face.  I screwed the toe of my boot against his barely covered jobber boyhole making him gasp and squirm before shooting a swift kick to his nuts.  I raised my arms again and another defeaning scream went up from the crowd.  This was going to be fun.

   Image(s) are not my property.  All were either collected in my travels through the Web or they belong to Ron Sexton/ Can-Am
and BGEast Inc./Stephen Driscoll (Kid Leopard)

Easy Breezy Beautiful

People see me in my criss-crossed leather gear, showing moreskin than it covers and the constantly tenting bulge and they get a pretty goodidea of the type of person I am.  I’m a “heel”I claim it, own it and relish it.  At 6’3”250 lbs. of a brick shithouse, I can’t even remember how many jobber slut boishave laid down begging to get a taste of this real man.  However, there was one that was special. 

Lavender when he's frisky

It was nothing new to feel that tingle seeing a fresh faced pretty boy in flashy trunks begging to get his ass kicked, but when this…vision came in the locker room I think I got a taste of what these bitchbois must feel around me, except it wasn’t my ass that was getting hungry.  It was like my dick was watching his every move and screaming to get out of the rubber square cut prison I had it in.  Straining to pound that ample ass barely covered by his bubblegum pink bikini trunks.  Guessing I would say about 5’11around 150 pounds of fitness model muscle practically ordering me to destroy him with every step and flex and ripple. 

I had to have him, and despite suggestions, demands and even bouts of pleading with promoters they wouldn’t give him to me, saying they needed to build up his hype more as a new draw for more crowds before I destroyed their pretty plaything in front of the crowds.  So after failed attempts to get a match booked with him, which I’m sure he heard about it because as the weeks went by he teased and flirted more and more after every visit to the management office-and it was driving me crazy. 

Every time I saw him slipping on some variation of hisalways skimpy and always some shade of pink gear I could feel myself descendinginto what I can only call a feral state of mind.  All but growling as my expression darkenedand I stared at him pointedly-usually zeroing in on that tanned smooth ass, ordistracted by the nearly waist-length wavy blonde hair, that curled just at the endswhen it got wet, like spiraled tendrils just…where was I again?

The Local Hero

Over the weeks a lot of the hired doormats were crying to management that I had been working them too “stiff”-if they had any idea how true that was, but I digress-One day I finally snapped, I had just destroyed this bodybuilder bitch in the last match of the night-a local hero challenge and sent him home horny hurting and a sobbing mess with his disappointed friends-in shock that I had turned their man’s man into a blubbering pig that all but begged me to put my cock in his mouth hogtied and tossed out of my ring like so much muscular laundry.  

Smirk begging to get smacked off

 I had an itch and it was GOING to get scratched that night and nobody was going to do anything to stop me.  I went back into the main lockers looking for Adonis (that being his ring persona, my names for him were more like “CoverGirl”, “Beverly Hills” etc.”)  I saw the night’s choice of gear hanging in his open locker-square cuts that barely covered enough cheek to be called as such, Day-Glo pink with yellow stars all over them.  I stripped out of my gear as it got way too tight for any type of comfort, my cock was in beast mode surging and pulsing in my black spandex jockstrap as I took breaths to calm myself down and refrain from drilling him like an oil well in the showers- this wasn’t going to be pleasant for Little Miss Sunshine…at least not at first-I like my jobber fucks to get a little tenderized first. 

Image(s) are not my property.  All were either collected in my travels through the Web or they belong to Ron Sexton/ Can-Am
and BGEast Inc.

Prepare to Grovel (Until You Beg 2)

I looked up at White Lightning, still a little rocked by the hard uppercut.  His foot wasn't pressing on my bulge, but definitely making the threat clear.  He leaned forward and grabbed a fistful of my hair, as he brought me up from the floor he continuously slammed punches into my neck and chest keeping me winded and hurting.  On my feet he slammed a solid fist deep into my abs doubling me over.  Wrenching my tights and holding my hair he turned me around to see a bay of video cameras surrounding our ring to catch this match from every angle possible "Remotely controlled of course" he whispered as I saw 3 cameras reposition themselves, one slowly zooming in I assumed on my face as it made the low whirring noises of focusing its lens on the two of us.

Lightning yanked my tights walking me to the ring and I got my head clear finally threw an elbow back at his head and turned around when he lost his grip, immediately my head snapped back from a hard left hook from his bare hand followed by a quick jab with his gloved right and I fell backward slumping against the ring apron-that elbow ended up being the one offense I get in the next 30 minutes.  He came in fast grabbing my throat he bashed my head into the ring post, followed with a hard gut punch that would have doubled me over but Lightning kept his grip on my throat standing me up.  Another hard uppercut smashed into my neck/chest and knocked me into the ropes- leaving me open to machine gun punches into my abs gradually crushing the wall of muscle between the right glove and his bare left fist.

As I pushed myself up nursing my abs and untangling my arm from the ropes I see Lightning taking off his boxing glove "I think I've made my point, but let me be sure." he said with this cocky ass grin on his face.  Suddenly his glove whips across my face hard and stuns me, only to receive it again on the other cheek-classic duel challenge upgraded with a huge boxing glove leaves me winded in the ropes.  Already nearly a dishrag and have barely made it on the ring apron, screaming at myself to get back in this game as he hops through the ropes, smacking my bulge with his glove before tossing it aside.  Pulled in through the ropes by my spiked hair kicking and groaning in pain as my arms finally spring free from the tangled ropes.  My tights half off my ass showing my thong for the constantly repositioning, zooming cameras surrounding us.  I finally stand up and shake my head clear and turn around pissed at this humiliating show so far.

I don't get even fully turned around before I see two white boot soles coming at my face, hard standing dropkick takes me out cold.  KO'd and the force of his kick shoots me into the turnbuckles chest first HARD! I fall out of the corner and crumple to the mat.  Lightning walks up to my limp form and drags up my head to be in view of the camera, my eyes showing white and my lips parted.  White Lightning, with a look that could be easily called demonic takes a breath and the camera catches a ringbell in his hand.  He swings the ringbell and BANGED my head with it.  Letting me drop back to the mat he leans into one of the closer cameras with a grin as he tosses the bell under the ropes, takes a look at my limp half stripped body and back into the camera licking his lips "Alright Round 1, let's get started".

Until You Beg

I went by Red Storm and I was the most desired heel in the erotic wrestling universe. An escort, if you prefer that term. Pathetic losers filled my email inbox begging for me to show them the dominance of a real man and I was always happy to oblige. It was a thrill and I could never get enough of that view of some jobber doormat's face under my throbbing bulge begging me to put them away.

I rode this high for 3 years, but was starting to get bored until I got a message one night from a screen name White Lightning, no email address or picture attached. All the message said was "Face a real man, get your ass ready". I smiled thinking to myself this was another slob with fantasies of being the cocky jobber that got his ass handed to him by the dark heel. So I answered "Always looking for a legit challenge." as soon as I sent, there was a response "a challenge suggests that you could win, you're a bitch just waiting to get tamed."

I can't lie my cock throbbed at that, maybe this was finally the fight I was looking for, an honest match between two alpha males battling to determine top man. I answered back "we'll see who gets tamed fucker when and where do you want this ass kicking?"
"I'll decide that, you just be ready" and with that he signed out.

I stared at the screen for a second and decided it was just some lame kid talking smack on the Internet and brushed it off. About a week later I had some downtime and met up with this personal trainer begging for an ass kicking at his home ring. He had a boxing glove kink and wanted to include that in our playtime. So I went into the little changing room he had and took a minute to admire my naked 6'2 230 lbs of packed muscle in the full length mirror before sliding into The Red Storm.

A flame patterned thong under jet black full tights with red flames spiraling up my legs ending at the pronounced bulge knee high boots and a half mask that perfectly matched my thong completed the transformation. My cock was already growing at the muscle bitch waiting out in the ring for me. When I arrived he was already a jobber vision in a stark white thong, low boots and white boxing gloves, I was hard the second I looked at him.

I came out of the room to look at the ring and my boxer bitch was nowhere to be found. I looked around the ring room, totally empty. "what the fuck man you scared already?" I heard the changing room door slam shut and a fist jerked my spiked black hair. I felt something firm against my ass and hot breath tickled my neck "I'm not scared, but you will be soon." My head was jerked back and teeth sank into my neck, I couldn't hold in the moan as he chewed on my pulse point. He spun me around and I got a good look at him. That thong was now hidden under white rubber briefs with two lightning bolts framing the crotch and two white bands over his biceps also sporting yellow lightning bolts "You" was all I could say. He grinned, evil, "told you to be ready" and I saw his right hand still had a boxing glove on, a hard uppercut sent me head rocking back and I stumbled falling over a weight bench. He walked up and planted a foot on my crotch "I hope this isn't boring"

Gold Star Jobber

Every so often there comes a long a special kind of jobber, a jobber in its purest form, that gets into the ring week after week and invariably gets his ass handed to him by heels, faces, and sometimes even other Jobbers who are popular enough to get tossed a mercy win once in a while to keep the fans cheering.  These doormats, punching bags, chronic losers are what I like to call Gold Star Jobbers.  The grapplers who go their entire career and not manage to win a single bout-these are the jobbers truly dedicated to their craft of getting squashed and making it look good.
(Note: Just featuring my fave "top 5" if you will of Jobbers who to the best of my knowledge maintained a perfect 0 in the win column) 

1. Red Tyler  Imagine being a professional wrestler, having been in the ring for a respectable number of years.  After countless singles and tag matches against some of the biggest names in the industry in front of millions of fans live and nationally broadcast on television, you decide it's time to hang up the boots and retire quietly after a successful and (hopefully) respectably lucrative career.  Now after all of this time and energy dedicated to your craft, you loved your job and your co-workers were always a pleasure to be around; you would think that fans around the world would remember you for your ring presence, your dedication to taking bumps and putting over other wrestlers when called upon or your great relations with your fans.

Not Red Tyler, after years in the ring getting his butt kicked time and time again, he is remembered for getting epic wedgies-especially the one pictured below provided by Mr. Perfect.  All the time, energy, blood sweat and tears spent as a pro wrestler to put on a good show for the fans-and his identifier is a pair of green spandex trunks a mile high up his ass crack.  While not the first time I ever saw a pair of trunks get wedgied in a match, this was definitely the most dramatic, even the match announcers get a few jibes in at Red Tyler's expense at the end of this match up.  What a way to be remembered ;-)

 

Of course, Mr. Perfect wasn't the only one to send Red back to the lockers picking lycra out of his teeth, here's Ted DiBiase Sr. The Million Dollar Man getting in on the trunk yanking fun....He gets a little help from Virgil as well.

 2.  Kenny "Ken Doll"
Whenever someone mentions pro jobbers Kenny is one of the first thoughts that come to my mind.  With an ass that could crack walnuts, cradled in those 2nd skin trunks that always let just a little bit of cheek bubble out, handsome face and one of the best bodies in pro wrestling at the time Kenny was always a pleasure to watch.  I think the simplicity of his ring gear with the only "flair" being those initials on the ass of his trunks in contrast to a lot of the facepaint and over the top costumes (tassels and rhinestones and feathers oh my) of many wrestlers during that period was a big part of what made me enjoy watching Kenny (and Eddie Jackie, another Gold Star who had a similar ring gear setup).  Another element with Kenny is how excited he always got in the ring, putting his all into attempting to take down the heel but invariably all his effort being basically useless and ending up flattened on the mat. 

 

3.  Bob Emory
Bob Emory was a phenomenal jobber, suffering through what were probably some of the most humiliating squash matches I've had the pleasure of watching (and re-watching over and over on youtube lol).  One of the few who were even thrown out to lose to other jobbers, putting him at the absolute bottom of the proverbial totem pole in the wrestling world.  One of these famous "Jobbing for a Jobber" matches was Bob's bout against Curtis Thompson.  Some might call Curtis a face due to the fact he went on to gain some fame as Firebreaker Chip (Firebreaker? really?) but for the most part the bite size bodybuilder ended up down for the count and wore some amazing tiny trunks doing it ;-)

I haven't really sat down and tried to figure out the time line but I suppose this match could have been the springboard point for Thompson that sent him on to become the Firebreaker and knocked Emory the last few notches down to rock bottom jobbermeat.  On the upside, Emory had lots of opportunity in this bout to display his phenomenal armbar skills.

4. Eddie Jackie Poor cute little Eddie Jackie, he certainly always had an energy and spunk about him, but he invariably ended up down for the count. 

5. Mike Tolbert
I guess I can't really call Tolbert a gold star jobber as he did manage a win over Doc Dean, which is pretty sad considering the Dean's amazing record in Europe.  Unfortunately he wasn't one of the Intercontinentals the WWE felt like pushing much...or at all, so he spent time going down to punching bags like Mike Tolbert.  Sad, but at least we got to see Tolbert get the stuffing beaten out of him a lot.

 So cheers to these and all gold star jobbers out there and their dedication to being humiliated for our viewing pleasure :-)

Images and video are property of WCW/WWE none belong to me and were not used for any profit, solely entertainment.

Traveling Trade Chapter 3

Not done yet musclebitch

From the top of the post I saw later he somersaulted, landing both feet PLANTED into my abs, making my body jackknife and come to with a horrible groan and desperate sucking gasp for air.  Onyx pulled me up by my hair, winded and punch drunk I didn't realize my trunks had fallen half off my ass until fans were slapping my exposed cheeks as Onyx paraded me around the guard rail for the crowd to see up close.  I reached back groggily trying to save some shred of dignity and pull up my slipped trunks.  Onyx noticed, of course.  "Oh your trunks are coming off, we can't have that at a family show." the smartass.  he grabbed my silvered trunks and YANKED them high up my ass in a thong wedgie, leaving only "TLA" visible between my ass cheeks.  He swatted my ass as he jerked my hair and SLAMMED my forehead into the guard rail, all but putting me out again "That's fitting, Tamed Loser Ass"  and he laughed as he gripped my wedgied trunks and tossed me back in the ring.

Setting him up for a big one

Still trying to stick to the rehearsed match I got on my knees and threw a stiff punch into his abs, not pulling any of the force trying to let this dick know I wasn't happy with his improv.  He stumbled back, then instead of continuing with the planned "brief comeback" of mine, his boot SMASHED my sternum I crumpled over the toe of his boot and melted to the mat arms crossed in pain.  No rest for the weary he dragged me up again, making so much meat out of the muscle jobber Atlas.  He pressed my face into his bulge, and I realized for the first time he was THROBBING in his squares, as it twitched against my cheek. He pulled me up onto my feet wobbly at best and stumbling SMACK SMACK SMACK 3 times light speed he slapped me across the face front and backhand snapping me out of my fog for a brief second, long enough to see him pivot back on his foot, and a sudden cheer from the crowd.

Jobber Jace laid flat out

Jobe getting crunched

I barely even got into a defensive stance before his back foot snapped up hitting my chin.  my head flew back, sweat flying from my hair, then he kicked me back and forth mimicking the slaps from before with his heavy boots.  Completely out on my feet at this point, the crowd quiet and watching the towering champion like the hush before a demolition crew sets off explosions to take down a building.  In a flash I felt a shattering burst of pain in my crotch, and then a thud against the back of my neck as I doubled over and everything went black.  Out cold again in this match up, Atlas getting ripped apart by Onyx.   I wasn't out for long, he took a moment to showboat and flex for the crowd before STOMPING my nuts, grinding his boot down as I came to squirming and groaning in pain that seemed to have no end.  At this point I was praying that I would just pass out from shock.

Humiliating Holds: Spladle

There are certain holds that for one reason or another, grabs the attention (and lust) of a wrestling kink enthusiast and can turn a match from bland to scorching hot in a matter of seconds.  One of these holds for me is the spladle.  Of course, it isn't too hard to figure out the appeal behind this hold- legs spread apart, knees by your head, ass in the air and the jobber is completely helpless to do anything about it, open to a grope, spanking or maybe go full out and fondle your jobber boy until he messes up his ring gear ;-)

Some pictures of this effective hold-which I believe isn't utilized nearly enough in erotic wrestling

Derek DaSilva Crotch Ripped

Josh Goodman in trouble

Trent Novak getting owned

Pretty Chip Chang gets ripped

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jobe Zander: Another Kid Vicious Victim

(Copyrighted Pics are from BG East and Rockhard Wrestling, images are linked to their respective webistes.  All other pictures in this post were taken from the web and no infringement is intended)

M(asked) P(ro) W(restler)

This guy has been posting  videos of his fantasy pro matches for sometime now (when youtube isn't busy taking them down).  He was gone for a while but recently has started posting videos once again and I hope he has a long run sans youtube crying about his videos that are much more tame than many others; but we all know how youtube feels about the male body.

He is a frequent jobber in his posted matches and in the past he wore a wide selection of hot ring gear, including a few of his posted videos along with a link to his youtube profile, subscribe if you like what you see here.

Masked Pro Wrestler You Tube Channel                                                                              

I love when they beg

I first fell in love with being a heel when I was a teen. A friend of mine and I were avid fans of pro wrestling. We often discussed our favorite stars and argued over who would beat who fantasy matches.

One day we were acting out a match wrestling in the backyard (a habit we never grew out of to this day) at one point I had him locked up in a reverse choke and body scissor combo with nowhere to go. My legs were crossed with my feet resting on his crotch as he writhed and thrashed against me. Feeling him helplessly struggling like this turned me on I admit but I wasn't going to be the one to say anything. Suddenly I felt something stir against my foot and we both froze. I shifted my foot and sure enough my friend was rockhard and his cock was throbbing against my foot.

I kept him locked in the combo hold and said the only word needed, "dude?". I heard him gasping from behind my back and a breathless "please...please don't" but his pleas were cut short by a low moan as my foot rubbed the iron pole in his baggy shorts. The thin jersey doing nothing to hide his erection at this point. I kept grinding my foot against his crotch, my own cock growing as his moans and begging grew more feverish. He sobbed as he got close almost crying as he asked me "please don't make me cum...please!" His body betrayed him, humping against my and hefoot even as I continued to tease him. I tightened my arm around his throat biting my lip in ecstasy as his moans choked off and he could only gasp and twitch as I kept stroking him.

I saw a small spot form on the light blue of his shorts and I couldn't believe it, I had him leaking in his shorts, in total control of him and he knew it. Offering no resistance as I continued stroking. His hands now just rubbing up and down my back no longer punching and clawing at me. Suddenly his back arched and he moaned out "I give! I give! You win!!" And I felt him shudder and I felt his load shooting in his thin shorts. I let him fall to the ground and as he caught his breath he panted " don't tell anybody fucker". I slid my hand down his body and cupped his balls firmly. That moan...so sexy. I leaned into him our lips an inch apart 'our not so little secret eh?" His eyes wide and locked with mine he slowly nodded. With a firm grip on his still hard cock squishing the load in his shorts around his twitching cock I stood him up. "Let's get you cleaned up, feels like a mess in there". He grinned and followed me into the house with a firm grip on his bulge.

End.

Ball Grabs

Pics of different grapplers getting the fight squeezed right out of them.

Bashing A Superhero

For a while I wrestled as a superhero type character in private roleplays as well as more public matches. One of the shortest and most humiliating matches I did was for a crowd in San Francisco during a summer I vacationed out there (one more crushing defeat after this one and the superhero would appear never again)

I approached the ring in the small warehouse building, getting a fair cheer from the crowd as I had managed to gain a following in the short time I had been in the area, and despite the constant defeats I suffered (although now I suspect this was the reason for the cheers, they knew they would see me destroyed in the very near future). Decked out in my skimpy hero garb consisting of high cut cerulean bikini trunks (over a white thong) knee high matching boots with white laces and a matching lycra crop top. The top sported a white starburst over my chest, and two were on the back of my trunks on each ass cheek. In contrast I wore a white eye mask with blue slashes on the sides (which matched the white thong I wore under my trunks), in my complete costume I was the Azure Avenger.

I was doomed from the second I got in the ring, I was facing The Wrangler, an admittedly sexy Cowboy heel, but he was vicious and had crushed and emasculated several of my friends in the ring. He wore brown faux suede chaps over black denim bikini brief, wicked pointed black cowboy boots with chrome over the toe. A vest matching his chaps complete with a large cowboy hat and he always came to the ring with his lasso. I vaulted over the ropes and immediately made my first fatal mistake. I turned to the crowd and climbed the second rope, giving a fists on hips pose, and then flexing my biceps for the crowd.

As soon as I lifted my arms I felt two hands on my ankles, I looked down in time to see Wrangler yank my legs back from under me, I fell BANGING my head to the ringpost and it was a complete squash from there on. I crumpled in the corner, my head a chorus of bells, to be dragged up right away by my hair, and dropped back to the mat in a reverse bulldog. My head was a mass of pain and noise now as the crowd roared seeing me savagely slammed on my head twice in quick succession. I felt his huge hands clamp over my face and I could only kick and scramble as he lifted my head up, his fingers digging into my temples as he gripped my face like a basketball. Then SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM bashing my head against the mat.

I was dragged up to my feet again, wobbly now, and I moved to look back as Wrangler ran behind me-WHAM!! his muscled arm bashed into the back of my head in a back clothesline, I crashed to the canvas face first, and again SLAMSLAMSLAMSLAMSLAM my face bashed into the canvas this time. 50 seconds into the match and I'm already nearly unconscious.

Wrangler reached down, grabbing my hair once again, and this time he went to grip my trunks, but his hand slipped and he pulled me up by my thong, wedging it high up my ass, exposing it above my trunks for everybody to see resting high above my hips. Out on my feet, led around like a puppet he lifts me up CRACKING my back over his knee and holds me there groaning, my bulge arched up right in his face, visibly starting to shift and stir in my layered ring gear. He ran his hand over my bulge, squeezing gently with a wink to the crowd , then he pulls me up so I'm sitting on his knee, and SLAMS me back to the mat jamming the heel of his palm up against my chin. My head snaps back and I collapse to the mat only to get scooped up again.

This time I'm gutbashed over his knee, knocking all the wind out of me and I hang there limp over his knee not even attempting to get off of his leg. Wrangler pulls my bright blue trunks off of me, baring my thonged ass to the crowd much to their pleasure. He bounces his knee making my limp body jerk and wriggle and he calls out "Woo! We got a live one!" and snaps his fingers against one bubble ass cheek, then the other, going back and forth until he's all out spanking me until I come around and scream when his ham-sized hand SMACKS my ass leaving a bright cherry red hand print spread across both cheeks.

Pictures flashed as he dragged me across the ring by my hair, me scrambling, crawling after him, both hands pitifully trying to rub my stinging ass as we went. He dragged me into the corner, so I was facing the crowd through the ring ropes, he grabbed both my arms pulling them back, and pressed that pointed chrome toe against my crack, teasing my hole through the thin wedgied thong as he CRANKED my arms in this modified surfboard. "Your arms hurt boy!" he yelled for the crowd to hear, yanking my arms even harder. Finally I groaned out "Yes" immediately his foot sharply kicked against my ass crack "Louder boy I don't think they heard in the back!" "YES!" I answered.

My cock steadily grew in my thong as he continued playing his toe against my barely covered ass. I could hear him laugh "Your back hurt boy?!" he yelled again, jerking my arms left and right. "FUCK YOU!" I shouted back. Unknowingly this set me up for a new finisher he had thought up and decided to test out the first chance he got in the ring. He looked at the crowd with wide eyes "I don't think I broke this one yet!" Most of the crowd started cheering thinking they were about to see something spectacular. Wrangler pressed his boot to my back, forcing my body flat to the mat, and stomped the heel of his boot to my balls that were threatening to peek out of the skimpy thong, my bulge now a full waving white flag. He pinned me to the mat by my pouch and his grip on my wrists.

I thrashed and scrambled against the mat, useless to get free as he just kept his weight pressed against my sensitive sac. "First you gotta geld the wild ones, then you put em down!!" he sounded psychotic, and the pain from my groin stopped as he moved his boot from my crotch to the back of my head, he lifted up on my arms, my head tight against the sole of his boot and he KICKED! bashing my head against the ringpost, putting me out cold.

For final humiliation he dragged me out to the middle of the ring, taking his lasso with him, he hogtied me tightly, fishing my cock out of my thong letting it stand free at throbbing attention. He brandished something out of his boot flashing it to the crowd. I learned later it was his famous branding iron, a chrome dildo with the base engraved with his insignia a w spelled in a length of rope. He turned on the vibrating dildo and pulling my thong aside he pressed the branding iron inside me. Taking the length of rope left after tying me he strung it around each ring post before finally leaving the ring, he tugged the rope slowly lifting me up, suspending me in the middle of the ring until I was level with the top rope. Giving the crowd a full view of this superhero stripped out cold as the vibrator brought me to cum soaking the mat under me in my loser load. I was unconscious and plugged with Wrangler's branding iron as the crowd all left, watching me as my out cold limp hogtied form was brought to orgasm after orgasm. Finally one of my fellow jobbers took pity and cut me down when it was apparent my body was milked dry and still quivering as I was having dry orgasms and helpless to stop it.

For his help, the other jobber (Another muscular bitchboy who wrestled as The Spangled Grappler, a patriotic punching bag who always wrestled in some variation of U.S. flag theme gear) was choked out with the Wrangler's lasso and we were both dragged out to the lockers by his evil rope.