Wrestler Taken Down! (M/F, Rated R)

[OldTUGger]

Wrestler Taken Down! (M/F, rated R)
by OldTUGger


The voice rang, thin and tinny-sounding, in her ears, like a phone call from a bad cell. Parts of words…

“wake…aman…wake…please…want…”

She opened her eyes but saw nothing but a wash of blurry white light.

“Amanda, wake up. C’mon, wake up, Amanda.”

Whose voice is that? Why am I so dizzy? Why can’t I see who’s calling me?

She squeezed her eyes closed and opened them again, trying to force them to focus. Only when she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes did Amanda Joy discover her hands had been bound tightly behind her back.

What the hell?!

She thrashed her arms to and fro, seeking desperately to free her pinioned wrists. She tried to stand, but instantly discovered that her ankles also had been tightly tied, and were tucked under the chair and tethered to her wrist ropes.

Why can’t I see anything? she wondered, confused by the diffused white glow. She tried to move her head but couldn’t. Only then did she realize that her head was being held back by a thick gag tied to the chair’s backrest.

Fluorescent lights, she thought. So that’s what I’m seeing!

“Well, hello,” said the voice, now quite clearly. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

All at once, it hit her. She’d been at the gym, getting in a final workout before her next match. It was to be a big one, televised worldwide to millions of professional wrestling fans. Her world championship belt would be retained or lost. As she walked to her car after the workout, dressed in red shorts and a powder-blue tank top to beat the summer heat, she’d felt a sudden sting in her back, followed by an electric shock and then…nothingness.

Omigod, I’ve been kidnapped!

“Sorry about the Taser and the chloroform,” the voice said as Amanda strained and struggled against her bonds. “I’ve been watching you for years, and I’ve seen exactly how fast and strong you are. I couldn’t take any chances.”

The string of invective Amanda hurled at her captor would have peeled paint at 50 yards, and had she not been so tightly and cruelly gagged, it might well have peeled the skin off his face as well.

“Settle down,” the voice said. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. In fact, I want to keep you well and happy for a long, long time.”

Stalker! The promoters had warned her that men might become obsessed with her. Petite, blonde-haired pro wrestlers with movie-star bodies and faces to match were anything but standard fare. She stood out like -- well -- an impeccably manicured sore thumb, and the tweets she received from overzealous male fans kept her in constant fear that she someday might fall victim to one of them.

And now it had happened, but who was it? @StudGuy48? @Mandi’sBiggestFan? @WrestleManiac?

“MMMRRGGGH!!!” she growled into the gag, which dragged at the corners of her mouth as she strained to look at something -- anything -- other than the bank of fluorescent lights overhead. An unseen hand clamped down on her mouth.

“Hush, Amanda. If you keep this up, you’re only going to hurt yourself. I wouldn’t want that to happen,” the voice said.

Her athlete’s instincts kicked in. She took a few slow, deep breaths and fought to quiet her racing thoughts. Figure out the situation, Amanda, and then see if you can do anything about it, she thought.

“That’s better,” he said as her breathing slowed. “You’ll be a much better companion if I don’t have to keep you tied up and gagged all the time.”

Companion? Who the hell does this guy think he is?

“After all, you winked at me during the meet-and-greet at the Civic Center. I could tell then that you wanted us to be together.”

His face suddenly appeared, a dark, upside-down silhouette in a pool of diffused fluorescence. She didn’t recognize him. She had winked at lots of fans. In fact, the promoters encouraged it. Flirting made fans feel as though they really were part of her team.

Just my luck, she thought. This idiot took me literally!

“Whhf yrrr nmmm,” she mumbled around the sodden cloth he’d used to gag her. The sound reached his ears only faintly, and he smiled. The thick scarf he’d pulled tightly between her jaws to hold the cloth in place silenced her quite nicely.

“What was that? I can’t understand you.”

“WHHF YRRR NMMM?” she almost screamed.

“What’s my name?”

She nodded.

“I thought you’d remember,” he said, clearly disappointed. “It’s Kevin. I tweet you all the time. My Twitter handle is @joyfan1.”

Amanda suppressed a groan. Of all the skeevy mash artists that populated her Twitter feed, @joyfan1 seemed worst. Every day, sometimes several times a day, he tweeted things that he’d like to do with her. She would have blocked him long ago, but her promoters frowned against blocking potential fans no matter how strongly they came on to her.

I’ve got to get my hands free, she thought. This guy could be capable of anything! She twisted her wrists, searching with her fingers for a knot to untie.

“Uh-uh-uh,” he singsonged. “Mustn’t try to get free-ee.”

“Tkkk ufff mmm gggg,” she pleaded, looking straight into his eyes. Plllls?”

“Take off your gag?” She nodded. “Promise me you won’t yell or scream, or I’ll gag you ten times worse.”

She nodded again.

Still standing behind her, no doubt to take in the bird’s-eye view of her world-famous cleavage, he untied the knot that kept her head pulled back.

“Ffnk yww,” she murmured, genuinely grateful to be able to see the world from her usual perspective. He loosened the scarf and let it fall into her lap. She worked her jaw a bit to dislodge the bandanna.

“Thank you,” she said again, this time in a small, submissive voice calculated to gain his confidence. “You know, you really don’t have to keep me tied up, either.”

“Actually, I do,” he said. “At least for a few days, until I can be certain you want to be here with me.”

“Could you at least come around the chair so I can see you? Up to now, all I’ve been able to see is your silhouette.”

“I like the view from here,” he said.

Great. Why did I decide to wear a tank top and go braless on my way home from the gym? I’m probably giving Mr. Pervo here the show of his life…

“I think the side-boob view might be even more revealing,” she suggested coyly.

He stepped to one side and craned his head around to look. “Wow, you’re right. That rack of yours is truly impressive from the side.” He stood, gawking, admiring her breasts’ exquisite cantilevering.

Keep looking, asshole, while I work on this knot…

“Not many people know this, but I have a birthmark on the side of my left boob,” she purred. “Want to see it?” He walked behind her to the other side, and she pushed her bosom out farther to afford him a better view.

There! As the knot came loose and fell away, she grabbed the ends of the rope before they could fall. As she had suspected, the knot had been the one holding the rope between her wrists and her ankles. Now she grasped the rope tightly to keep her feet from swinging forward. Now if I can just convince him to walk around in front of me…

“Kevin?”

“Yes?”

“I have a bit…a bit of a confession to make. You see, I kind of like being tied up like this. Every time I date a guy, I end up asking him to tie me up.”

“Hmm…so kick-ass Amanda Joy, the wrestler billed as ‘100 Pounds of Dynamite,’ isn’t the force of nature she’s billed to be? Interesting.”

“Sometimes even forces of nature have to feel…forced,” she said in a teasing tone. “We just have to find men who are man enough to do it.”

“I can be that man,” he said, his voice brimming with bravado -- false bravado, for sure, but bravado nevertheless. In reality, @joyfan1 was seven years Amanda’s junior, still living at home in his mother’s basement. He’d never had a girlfriend, and it showed.

Keep him talking, she thought to herself. Try to get him to stand in front of you…

“If you want a really good view, Kevin, you should see my boobs from the front -- with my tank top pulled down. All my boyfriends get that view when I’m tied up, because I ask them to look.”

He walked around in front, staring all the while at her chest -- the deep cleavage, the way her tank top strained to contain the impressive mounds that lay underneath. He bent forward, hooked his fingers over the low-cut garment and pulled it down. His eyes went wide as he admired her breasts. Spectacular…

Amanda released the ankle rope and swung her bound feet up, hard, into his crotch. He doubled over. She swung her legs again and caught him under the chin, straightening him up. Tucking her thighs to her chest, she drove both feet forward, grinding her heels deep into his groin. He hit the floor.

Amanda's blood boiled. The action had shifted her into championship-match mode. With the speed and balance of a gymnast-turned wrestler, she sprang onto the chair’s seat and, still bound hand and foot, leaped into the air, pirouetted, and came down hard with both knees on @joyfan1’s face.

Sitting triumphantly atop his chest, she untied herself, hands first, then ankles.

Loser! She thought disgustedly, staring into Kevin’s battered face. Blood trickled from his nose, making a small puddle on the vinyl floor. Serves him right. Now where’s my purse? I’ve gotta call 9-1-1.

At just that moment, the door burst open. Two police officers charged in, guns drawn and at the ready.

“Miss Joy? Are you OK?” one asked.

“Now I am,” she said. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Your cell phone, ma’am. Remember? Your wrestling organization has you carry a tracking app in the event something like this should happen.”

“I’d forgotten,” she replied. “Well, I’m kind of glad you got here when you did. Five minutes earlier and you’d have spoiled all my fun.”

One officer bent over Kevin’s unconscious form.

“He’s still breathing,” the officer said. “What the hell did you do to him?”

She described the takedown, from the moment she got the knot untied to the moment her knees pile-drove her would-be captor’s head.

“Seriously? You used the ‘Spiral Joy’ move on him?” one officer asked, laughing.

“Yeah, but in the ring I land with my knees on either side of my opponent’s head,” she said. “This time I let him have it, full bore, with both knees.”

“Geez, I wish I’d been here to see that!”

As the other officer got on his radio and requested an ambulance for @joyfan1, the first officer spoke up.

“Uh, Miss Joy? I know you’re still amped up on adrenaline and everything, but may I suggest something?”

“Sure, what?”

“You might want to pull your tank top back up.”

[wolfman]

That is really awesome. Wish I could write like that. Kudos to you.

[MaxRoper]

Good story, excellent dialog, and a gratifying conclusion. Well done!

[BindPam]

I don't follow wrestling, so I don't know if this is a real person or not, but it's a fun, short story. I liked it a lot.

[OldTUGger]

Thanks for your kind comments, folks! Happy you're enjoying the tale!

[Mask6190]

Fun story OldTUGger!

[Emma]

Very good read!

I often wonder about celebrities and stalkers. One of the more chilling pictures I've seen in my lifetime is the photo of John Lennon signing an autograph for the young man who would murder him hours later.

Glad this story had the resolution it did!

I also liked how it was quick and consise.