Megan's Muscle Tussle

She clambered clumsily to her feet. Then she threw herself at Olga, with a fierce cry.

Olga met her full on, as before, and once again they grappled. This time, Olga seemed to be in no hurry to overpower her as she had been doing. They tussled together for some long minutes, bear against ox. Megan was making no headway – Olga's feet were planted like the roots of a redwood, or whatever species of tree they had in godforsaken Siberia or wherever Olga had come from. Her frustration – and her fatigue – were growing by the minute.

Soon Megan was perspiring all over – Olga much less so. Megan was huffing and panting – Olga much less so. Megan's grunts carried tones of growing desperation – Olga's soft grunts were much less intense. And all the while, as Megan saw when she occasionally turned her head to glance in Nina's direction, the snooty bitch was looking on raptly, rubbing and stroking her shaved glistening pussy, eyes shining.

She had to change the rhythm of the match – Olga was letting her wear herself out. She had to admit the bitter truth – she could not outmuscle Olga, not like this.

Instead, she slipped an arm in between Olga's titanic thighs, threw her other arm over Olga's shoulder, tightened her grip, and heaved with all her might.

It failed – she thought she had enough leverage, but Olga had somehow anticipated the throw attempt, and had planted herself so firmly that Megan could not even budge her an inch! Almost sobbing with frustration, Megan tried again, flexing with all her might, yelling with the sheer effort. She could feel how wet Olga was, on the heel of her palm, which was touching Olga's pussy. The sweat and juices covered her hand, as she strained and strained, fruitlessly.

Then Olga wrapped her own arms around Megan – and lifted her up with minimal effort, holding Megan across her body. Nina moaned loudly in pleasure. Megan flailed helplessly, having lost her grip. She had never felt so helpless in her life, being carried this way by Olga, like a kitten.

"I must break you," Olga said, softly and hoarsely.

Megan's eyes went wide, and she struggled even harder... but it was no use.

In a sharp single movement, Olga went down on one knee, and slammed Megan's right side over her own massively muscled thigh.

The impact knocked the breath out of Megan – the air whooshed out of her lungs, as the shockwave travelled through her body. Before the pain could begin registering, Olga had straightened up again – and she repeated the movement, slamming Megan down on her thigh in the same instant that her booted foot stomped the mat, magnifying the force.

Megan gasped and choked as the remaining air was forced from her lungs. Then the pain began radiating from her side. She had been so proud of her lats... even her intercostal muscles, which had stood out so nicely when she had dieted down for that bodybuilding contest. She had thought her torso well-sheathed by muscle, well-protected.

Against Olga, it was not. Olga let go of her and she rolled off, clutching her side, gasping with each ragged breath she took. She tried to crawl off, to get some distance between them.

There would be no respite now, however – Olga grabbed hold of her ankles, and dragged her bodily across the mat, like a sack of potatoes, and deposited her right in front of Nina, whose rubbing had lapsed into a steady, intense rhythm. Then, Olga grasped Megan's right arm firmly, and pulled it straight up, applying an arm-bar. She placed her knee on Megan's hurting side, just below the ribs, and pressed down, slowly increasing the pressure.

And after a while, Megan screamed, unable to hold it back any longer, convulsing with the pain. The arm-bar was painful and expertly applied – she couldn't begin to muscle out of it if she tried. The knee holding her down soon became incredibly painful, but she could do nothing but endure.

Then Nina was crouching down, on the mat, putting her face to Megan's. Her pupils were slightly dilated and her face was flushed with arousal, as she whispered, "Had enough, meathead? Ready to submit, you muscle-bound cow?"

Tears sprang to Megan's eyes. She mustered whatever defiance she could, and grunted, "No! Never!"

Olga jerked on her arm, and rocked back and forth with her knee, and Megan was reduced to a sobbing wreck, as Nina drank in the sight.

"Good... just a little more to go... Olga, crush her," Nina instructed imperiously, sitting back and spreading her long legs.

Olga lifted her knee off Megan's side and released the arm-bar, and the sweet surcease of pain almost made Megan weep with relief. Almost immediately, however, Olga pulled her to a kneeling position, knelt down in front of her, wrapped her thick, powerful arms around Megan's quivering torso... and squeezed.

Megan threw her head back and cried, but it was not a full-throated scream, even – she no longer had the strength even for that. It was a thin, reedy, choked cry of breathless agony, as Olga's arms pressed in on her torso like an iron vise, mercilessly crushing the life out of her. She could not draw a full breath. When she clutched at Olga's arms, she could not even grip tightly enough to make Olga notice.

All her impressive muscles, developed over the years with sweat and tears... all her muscles were useless now, without oxygen to fuel them. And in any case, they were no use against Olga's bigger, stronger body.

Megan's head lolled to the side, as her vision swim. Dimly, she was aware that a trickle of drool was escaping from the side of her mouth, but she was in too much pain to care. Nina's legs were splayed wide open – she was pinching and stroking her nipples with one hand, while rubbing her clitoris furiously with the other. She seemed on the verge of a screaming climax.

"Do you submit, huh?" she moaned, in a high-pitched whine. "Submit, bitch?"

Megan's eyes filled with tears again. She was losing consciousness. She was utterly crushed – nothing she could try had worked. Olga was the superior woman, plain and simple.

She croaked, "Submit..."

"What's that? Can't hear you!"

"I... submit..." Olga jerked on her body, tightening her grip, and Megan shuddered. She was blacking out.

"Louder!"

She barely had the breath to speak, but she forced the words out of her lips. "I... submit!"

"What are you, huh? You're a cow! What are you?"

"I'm... a... cow!" Her eyes rolled back, and one more word escaped her lips. "Please..."

And suddenly, she was on her back, as air returned to her lungs and she returned to consciousness. Nina was crying out, her body jerking in the throes of an orgasm, while Olga had moved to mount her helpless opponent in the missionary position. She grabbed Megan's wrists, and held them to the ground.

"The loser must give the prize now," she grunted, her blue eyes afire with an icy blaze. "I claim you, loser."

She lowered her pelvis, and pressed her mound to Megan's. Megan shuddered at the wet, juicy contact. She looked up tearfully at her conqueror, her sore and aching body shivering with pain, fatigue... and desperate need.

Her legs opened, almost as if of their own volition, to give Olga better access. Olga smiled in acknowledgement, coldly accepting her defeated opponent's tribute.

Then she began humping, making sure to rub her own swollen clitoris against Megan's, and Megan's eyes rolled up as the shameful pleasure overcame her, turning her muscles to jelly.

And then Nina was beside them, pinching Megan's nipples playfully, fondling Olga's nipples as well – "Do you like your prize, my dear bodyguard, big strong Olga?" – and rubbing and squeezing Olga's muscles all over, before lying on her side and rubbing herself to yet another climax.

But Megan beat her to it – her sweaty, defeated body stiffened, and then shuddered in a shattering orgasm, as the last of her pride and dignity melted away, as the spasms of pleasure swept through her trembling body, crushed underneath her physically and sexually superior conqueror.

She had a second one, as Olga relentlessly humped her to a victor's climax, before finally releasing Megan and sitting back on her haunches, dripping with sweat and breathing hard. As Megan swooned in delirious defeat, she noted in a corner of her mind that the mounting and humping had been a greater exertion for Olga than the wrestling match itself. The thought added to the shame welling up in her.

And then she looked up, her will crushed, as Nina dug the point of her high-heeled shoes into Megan's battered, defeated abs, and flexed her small lean muscles triumphantly, while Olga applauded – the muscle had been Olga's, but the victory was undeniably Nina's!