Tussle
“I can’t believe you think you’re stronger than me.”
“Well, I do sort of win whenever we’re play-fighting.”
“Only when I want you to win.”
“Then prove it. Show me that you’re stronger.”
It was one of those silly little conversations we were having. Lately, when we scuffle on the floor (wrestling), I seem to win. It’s not that I’m actually taking Master down, it’s more that I get out of his grips a lot. I’m an eel, so he hasn’t been holding me without restraints doing it for him of late. I had thought it was just that maybe with my strength training I was getting stronger and able to get out of his grasp more. Master, on the other hand felt completely taken aback and he couldn’t believe that I thought I was stronger than him. However, even though we were bantering back and fourth, he wasn’t going to show me then and there. He was going to show me on his time. Fine by me. We put the above convo aside and went on to do whatever it is we were doing at the time, but over the past couple of weeks, Master kept tossing out the random:
“I can’t believe you think you are stronger than I am!”
Well, tonight I put my wheelchair gloves on because they are actually pretty decent gloves to use for packing. They have support in the wrists and the fingers, and we started to scuffle. I tossed two punches at Master’s right chest and he grabbed me somewhere (who knows where, it happened so fast) and I started to lose my balance so I did a ballerina-esque spin and aimed a bite at his right arm. He took me down to the floor and put a knee on my chest. He grabbed my left leg and tucked it underneath me and pinned me to the ground so that I could barely move. Incidentally he had decent reach for my left nipple. If only the window hadn’t been open! Still, his knee was blocking the window’s view so no one could see him pinch and prod. He aimed about twenty good, hard punches on my left thigh, leaving a red mark. The entire take-down was less than ten seconds. I really didn’t even have a chance.
“Still think you’re stronger than me?”
Nope. Nope, I don’t. I’m not too busted up about that, either.
7 thoughts on “Tussle”
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Oh how I love to lose in situations like this!
@Sublea Definitely! =^^=
Tim…you big bully!
Better keep this story off Fetlife or the BDSM police will be out to put his head on a pike for abuse! 😛
/walks off laughing, thinking about a big fish with Tim’s head…
@Gaspar Nah. You’re just hanging out with the wrong Fetlife peeps, I’d expect. 😉
One thing for sure you know is he doesn’t treat you like glass.
@Gaia Thank goodness for that. I’m not the kind that wants to be treated like glass. 😉
Maybe I treat you like Gorilla Glass. 😉