Forms of Wrestle, bondage story | canvas, slave, tied

We were partway through dinner when I noticed Elaine glance at her watch for the second time. "Look," I said; "I wasn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow. If you have a standing arrangement don't let me stop you. I'll be OK here alone."

They looked at each other. "Umm, " began Tom, somewhat diffidently, "we couldn't make up our minds whether to tell you or to skip it."

"Don't skip anything. Go right ahead. It so happens I like my own company anyway."

"We did wonder," put in Elaine, "whether you would like to come along too?"

"Wouldn't have brought it up only, you see ... umm ... Elaine is in the ring tonight."

Certainly I was interested. Elaine was about the normal size for women but she was in superb condition and, as an ex-wrestler, I could only admire the manner in which she moved. "Ring?"

"Yeah. It's club night... and tonight is the monthly wrestle."

"Elaine wrestles? What sort of wrestling... and what weights are they putting on?"

"Well." Tom was strangely hesitant. "It's not the sort of wrestling you indulged in. It's a special tonight. It's a kind of all-in match and its fought to the death."

"Whhaaattt?"

"Oh, sorry. That's just the Club's name for it. But they fight it out to a standstill. Like that futuristic film: Two go into the ring but only one comes out ... on his feet."

"Don't tell me Elaine is fighting a man?"

"No. No. I should have said HER feet."

I saw the grin on Elaine's face. "What sort of club is this? Doesn't sound legal to me."

"Actually... it's basically a bondage club. This is just one of our..."

"Bondage? How the devil do you relate that to all-in wrestling?"

"In fact it's a needle match. These two girls have had it in for each other and the club sec. has had enough. They fight it out and then settle it once for all. Else... out."

"But you said monthly wrestle?"

"Yes. He postponed the usual contests to make room for this special. There's quite a lot at stake and both girls are amongst the Club's best."

"Yeess! This I've simply gotta see."

Little did I know.

It was about an hour and a half drive to the club premises and most of that time Elaine spent asleep on the back seat of the car; which perhaps explained her insistence that I should take the front passenger seat. Whether I should admire her calmness or her prudence I could never determine.

On arrival she promptly vanished and Tom and I made our way to the ringside seats that were reserved for us. Quite a civilised club? Between two lightweight women I expected either a fairly bland exhibition or else an out and out catfight but my education was about to be improved. Both girls proved to be of some experience, clever in their use of good techniques, fast on their feet and equally quick in their heads.

True, the first ten minutes was somewhat unexciting and seemed headed for my worst expectations. I presumed that each was familiar with the other's style and skills. But suddenly they engaged in a whirlwind bout of move, counter-move and further counters so that the ring seemed to fill with flying legs, whirling arms, somersaulting bodies, grunts, whistling intakes and outputs of gasping breaths... but what impressed me most of all was the cleanness. It was a contest of skill between two proponents who obviously enjoyed their sport but who, nevertheless, neither gave nor received quarter.

I failed to comprehend the absolute truth of that last. One contestant... it proved to be Elaine... rolled backward hoisting her opponent on the soles of her feet which were on the end of legs that were bent at the knees. The throw terminated in a powerful thrust which sent the other girl in a graceful arc only to come back to earth with a crash that made me wince. She was neither greatly hurt nor stunned as it happened but for several seconds she lay there completely winded and I expected the Referee to move in. He kept his distance.

Elaine came to her feet with cat-like grace and speed and leapt on to her fallen opponent. Grabbing the girl's ankles she straightened her on the canvas, folded her legs up behind and sat on them while she gathered the arms behind. I was expecting an attempted surfboard but Elaine signalled her corner and a length of rope came slithering across the canvas. Why had I not remembered that this was not primarily a wrestling bout but one sponsored by a bondage club? In no time at all Elaine was gazing down in breathless victory at a hog-tied opponent beginning to struggle on the canvas.

She bent to roll the girl and supported her while the Referee, with his head on the floor, counted slowly to three and then Elaine, with commendable care, returned her victim face down on the floor. Even that was not the end. The seconds came in and held open a large canvas bag while Elaine worked her victory package within and then expertly tied the neck over the fallen girl's head. Victor indeed.

That was the end of the proceedings brief though it may have seemed. Tom took me to the bar and provided a welcome shot of a very-good whisky then we returned to the car. To my surprise we found Elaine already asleep on the rear seat.

As Tom set the parking brake outside their home my incredulous curiosity finally won and I asked: "OK. Elaine won. But won what... and what happens to the loser?"

"That's easy to answer," he replied and, moving to the rear of the car, he opened the boot. To my surprise and no little consternation there was the canvas bag and its gyrations showed that the occupant was very much alive. "The agreed terms," he said and, I thought, with a touch of mockery: "were winner takes all. You're a big fella... hoist her out, will you, and bring her inside?"

As I lifted the bag I thought it emitted a chinkling noise but Elaine emerged to direct operations. She led the way indoors, up the stairs and to the door of my bedroom. "Dump her in there."

"What?"

"She's all yours, dear boy. Technically she's now mine unconditionally for the week but ... what use would she be to me. I don't need a slave when I've got a husband to do all the work. And he will have his hands full with me. Enjoy."

"Hey. No way. Elaine...!" But she had gone.

Intent on releasing her I opened the bag to yet another shock. It revealed the vanquished, now spruced up and clad in semi-transparent slave costume. Her hands were manacled to a pseudo-gold metal belt fitted snugly around her waist. Her ankles were hobbled about twelve inches apart by a second set of pseudo-gold chains. There was another "gold" band around her neck from which sprouted a chain leash and, without any probable possible shadow of doubt, the mouth behind the veil was spread in a broad grin as she dropped gracefully to her knees: "Greetings Master. I live but to serve you."

Well. I ask you? What would you have said?

More... denied keys ... just what would you have done?