Archive-name: Slaves/julie.txt

Archive-author: Claws, no. 12

Archive-title: Bitter End, The





    Julie was an exceptionally attractive blonde that I fell for the moment I

set eyes on her.  Although I was married, I had little or no qualms about

going after Julie, finally persuading her to live with me.

    I soon realized that she had her faults, but they seemed insignificant

compared with her attractions, especially her physical and sexual ones.  She

was glorious in bed, though I did notice that she had a tendency to dictate

our sex life: when we should have sex and which way we should have it!  She

was fond of cunnilingus but was very reluctant to reciprocate by indulging in

fellatio - rather to my disappointment.

    But we got on very well on the whole, and my wife finally agreed to give

me a divorce.  Julie moved in, and although we didn't marry, we lived as man

and wife, leaving for later the decision as to whether we should make a

formal marriage of it.

    It was not long before Julie's character began to reveal itself.  We

would argue over something rather insignificant, but she was so obstinate

that she would never give way.  She even began to deny me sex if and when I

won an argument!

    Nevertheless, she was such an attractive woman to be with in so many ways

that it never occurred to me to reconsider my attachment to her, though

neither of us said anything more about marriage.

    As time went on, the disagreements between us became sharper, and to

assert herself she practically began to deny me sex altogether.

    And then she began to display a certain amount of violence toward me.

One day she wanted a paper I was reading, when she ripped it from my hands

and shouted at me as she did so.  I was amazed to see a woman behave in this

way.

    But I never lessened in my desire for her sexually.  She was easily the

most attractive woman I had ever known, and I was completely sold on her as

far as sex was concerned.  But her refusal to let me sleep with her on

innumerable occasions began to frustrate and even irritate me.



                                 *    *    *



    Things came to a head when, a few weeks later, she demanded the newspaper

I was reading, and when I didn't answer her, she snatched it from me.  I am

afraid this was too much for me, and I was on my feet in a moment, and before

I really thought about it, I slapped her across the face.

    By that action, which took only a second, the relationship between us was

entirely altered.  I tried to back down, apologizing for my hastiness, but to

no avail.

    "I didn't mean that," I said to her.  "I'm sorry."

    "Sorry!  You certainly will be.  No man has ever put a hand on me in my

life, and you certainly won't ever do that again."

    "But I said I was sorry!"

    "Too late, you bastard.  No one does that to me and gets away with it."

    Then to my amazement, she grabbed me and put her knee into my balls.  I

fell flat on the floor, doubled up in pain.

    "That's just for a beginning," she said and stormed out of the room.

    I tried to fight the pain, but I had been knocked out completely by her

well-aimed blow, and I think I passed out.  I know that I woke up some hours

later, and it was completely dark.

    I got up, saw that it was late, and made my way to the bedroom.  When I

turned the knob I found that the door was locked.

    "Can I come to bed?" I cried out.

    "Not in my bed.  Go to the spare room and fuck yourself," I heard Julie

reply.

    "Can I get some pajamas?"

    "No, fuck off!"

    That was all there was to it.  I knew that there was no chance at all of

persuading her to open the door.



                                 *    *    *



    The next morning we didn't speak at breakfast, despite an attempt on my

part to raise what had happened again and repeat my apologies.  As I started

to speak she must have guessed what I was going to say, for she simply got up

and walked from the breakfast room.

    The days that followed were miserable ones, and I hardly knew what to do.

I thought of leaving her, but despite what had happened, I still wanted her

desperately in my life.

    What was I to do?  Certainly there was no kind of relationship in any

real sense, and I was forced to sleep alone in my own room.  Nor was there

any talk or exchanges at breakfast or at dinner.

    Then, to my horror, I learned by chance that a man had been going to the

house during the day.  "Seems to be her new lover," said an acquaintance of

mine in the local pub.

    This was too much for me.  I drank my beer and got home as quickly as

possible, rushing into the lounge where my wife was reading.

    "You've had a man here," I shouted.

    "Yes," she admitted, "so what?"

    "So what?  How dare you bring a man to my house," I shouted.

    "Don't lose your temper again.  Just bear in mind that you struck me a

week or two ago, and I don't happen to like men who do that sort of thing.

So I've found someone who respects me."

    "You bitch, I'll thrash you if I ever see or hear of a man coming here

again."

    "Thrash me, will you?  You just couldn't!  Remember what I did to you

last time."

    "You're challenging me, are  you?"

    "If you like.  I'm ready any time to take you on.  I think you'd live to

regret it," she laughed.

    "Live to regret it!  What, a bitch like you?" I shouted, losing my temper

completely.

    "Go on calling me names as much as you like.  But if you want to fight,

we'll do so properly.  Here and now.  Shift the furniture back and I'll give

you the hiding of your life!"

    I couldn't believe that she was serious.  But I had to call her bluff if

she wasn't, so I readily agreed to her suggestion.

    "That's what you want to do, okay," I said.  I got to my feet and cleared

a large area in the center of the room.

    "Well," I said, "I'm waiting."

    Julie was wearing a tight-fitting black dress with a wide belt, fishnet

stockings, and boots that reached to just below her knees.  They were fitted

with dangerous stilettoes, a point I noted as she moved towards me.

    "There," she said, giving me a slap across my face, an action that was so

quick that I was completely off-guard.  Then I remembered that that was what

I had done to her.  Should I now butt her in her crotch?

    I moved at her and grabbed her by the waist, but she was quick and soon

extricated herself, giving me a kick on my shin as she escaped my grip.

    Now the interesting thing to me was that when I grabbed her by the waist,

I felt a great sexual desire for her, even though we were fighting and I

could not afford to lose.  I had never been so close to her for months.  I

suppose it was at that moment that I aimed to defeat her while at the same

time allowing certain things to happen which would allow me some intimacy

with her.  For example, I would have loved to have been squeezed between her

legs in a head-lock!

    But my thoughts distracted me, and I was suddenly on the floor with her

on top of me and thumping me at the same time.  There were no holds barred,

it seemed, and as much as I liked being underneath her, it was not going to

be possible to enjoy it.  I arched my body, reached up to grab her hair, and

overturned her.  She fell on one side and for a moment I was on top of her as

she sprawled.

    But what I didn't know at the time was that she had taken some wrestling

training, and at one time had learned some karate.  She was a much more

formidable opponent than any woman I could imagine, as I was soon to find

out.

    But there was, luckily, an interlude before my first major setback.  The

doorbell rang, and one of us had to answer it because of its persistence.  I

was expecting a parcel from the printers, so I decided I ought to to.

    "I'll go," I said to her briefly, as she relaxed in my grip.

    It was the postman and the parcel I had been waiting for.

    I went back to the large lounge, but Julie had gone off for a moment,

presumably to the lavatory or bathroom.  I waited somewhat uncertainly for

her return: would we just go on, or would she drop the whole thing?



                                 *    *    *



    When she returned she was wearing a different oufit, black blouse and

black leather skirt.  She came straight over to where I was sitting and

without warning grabbed my shirt collar and pulled me to the floor.  And then

she tore at the shirt and ripped it almost in two.  Kicking me in the groin

again, she then proceeded, as I lay half on my belly, to work on my trousers

in an attempt to de-bag me!  I struggled and managed to stop her doing more

than unzipping them and untying my belt, managing to get to my feet with one

supreme effort.  But she leapt at me, banging me against the wall as she now

bent forward tearing at my underpants, my trousers slipping from me as she

did so.  I managed to retrieve them as I pushed her off, fixed the belt

quickly and decided to fight without a shirt.  She, meanwhile, had for some

reason taken her blouse off to expose her breasts, probably a way of

distracting and tantalizing me, yet surprising for all that, as she hated for

me to praise, still less touch, her large tits.

    Both of us semi-naked, we now fought like tigers, a desperate twenty

minutes elapsing without a break.

    "Give me a break," I gasped, breathless.  "Five minutes."

    "As you wish, you weakling," she snarled.  "All the better for me in the

end."

    We stepped aside and she left the room shouting, "Five minutes."

    

                                 *    *    *



    The situation was bewildering in the extreme.  It appeared that she was

going to fight until one or the other of use was beaten and, presumably, she

was determined that person should be me.  She had gone to the trouble of

putting on a new outfit, one that I supposed was more suitable for fighting.

And then she had almost at once removed the top, leaving her breasts naked!

    The only explanation I could think of was that she was perspiring

furiously from her efforts, and it was certainly easier to fight with one's

upper half bare.  But it was a big temptation for me to pick on her breasts,

even grab them, and she must have realized that.

    The phone range at this moment, and my wife answered it on the extension.

When the call was over she came down and told me that she had no choice but

to go to the hospital nearby, where a friend of hers had had an accident.

    "But I won't be long, and we'll start again where we left off, make no

mistake."  I sat in the chair and then went to her bedroom, the first chance

I had had of going there for some weeks, for I was very rarely at home when

Julie wasn't there.

    Her clothes were strewn about the room, and I felt an urge to pick them

up and caress them.  In my heart I felt strongly about her, as I have said,

though perhaps it was sex rather than love that kept my interest in her

alive.  Everything about her room - now that she had really taken it over -

was sexy, especially the leather clothes and fantastic undies lying about the

place.  I was almost tempted to put on some of her clothes, but I managed to

resist the temptation, though that night I asked myself a hundred times what

had put the idea into my mind.

    But I went through her things, opened the drawers in the dressing table,

and found a letter from a man who must have been the one she was having the

affair with.  This angered me and made me more determined than I had been to

fight the thing out with her.  One of us had to be the master in the house,

and that was going to be me, I decided.  And then I would demand sex from

her.

    As I went downstairs to await her return, I tried to analyze my thoughts

about her, but I was in a turmoil.  I think I came to the conclusion - the

best I could - that I liked her for her physical attractions and sex, but I

hated her in most other ways.  In a way it would be nice, I decided, to

defeat her physically, as she was so sure of herself, and it would be almost

like a sexual victory!



                                 *    *    *



    When she returned she rushed to her room, took off the summer coat she

had slipped over her half-naked body, and then put on a bra, for when she

came down she was no longer exposing her breasts.  Second thoughts perhaps?

Anyhow I made up my mind to make the bra a target of my hands, and I would

rip it off at the first opportunity.  Then I might even grab hold of one of

her titties!

    She was calm and began to fight almost professionally, using proper

wrestling movements and taking no chances.  She was no longer the wildcat she

had been, but I didn't expect that would last for long.

    She managed to trip me, and we sprawled, but I was on my feet before her

and was in a position to use my feet on her, but this I resisted.  There were

some things I was ready to do to a woman, others not.  So I allowed her to

get to her feet.

    We grappled, and I felt her warm breasts against my now-naked chest.  I

squeezed her as tightly as I could, but she was more than a match for that,

using her knee to force me to give way and let her go.  Already I was

beginning to see that she was a formidable opponent.

    Eventually we rolled over on the floor together, and she suddenly had me

in a headlock between her thighs.  Now she put the squeeze on hard, and I had

no time to enjoy the feel of her resilient flesh against my cheeks.  If I

didn't escape she would force me to submit, for she had the most powerful and

muscular thighs.  I struggled, shook my head from side to side as far as

possible, and in the end managed to struggle free.  Then we fought on the

floor again until I managed to gain the upper hand, and I got her onto her

back.  I seized the opportunity and straddled her.

    Sitting on her belly, she did everything to free herself, but this time I

had a distinct advantage and was able to hold her down.  To teach her a

lesson I now tore at her bra and ripped it from her.

    Her bare breasts lay beneath me, and I could not resist grabbing hold of

them, one with each hand, knowing well that it would irritate and anger her.

She spat in my face, but that only made me more determined to keep my grip on

her breasts. Then she raised her legs and tried to use her body as a piece of

lifting gear, but without success.  Still keeping her knees up in the air,

she managed to half-raise herself, and once again I had to grab her arms to

force her back on the floor.  Then, instead of grabbing her breasts a second

time, I simply moved forward and sat on them.

    She now appeared to be very much at my mercy, and I wondered what would

happen next.

    "Submit?" I suggested, grinning into her face.

    "Submit?  Submit to a swine like you?" she shouted, drawing her legs even

further back so that her knees were pressed against my back.

    "All right," I said, "then I'll damn well make you, you bitch."

    But try as I would, I couldn't force her to give up, even though I

resorted to slapping her face.

    Then she unexpectedly managed to get in a punch at my genitals, and I let

go of her as I fell to one side, holding my balls in agony.

    She was on her feet in a second and started to use her feet on me,

kicking me with the stiletto heels of her boots, until even the pain in my

genitals took second place and I staggered to my feet to avoid further kicks.

    But I was still unable to defend myself properly, and she pushed me

against the wall and dragged my trousers down.  I was forced to step out of

them, or I would have tripped and fallen heavily.

    So I was now reduced to my underpants.  That angered me, and I made up my

mind to go next for her skirt and after that her knickers.

    We were on our feet, sparring, neither of us able to get a hold on the

other.  This went on for two or three minutes, by which time I think there

was a mutual feeling that we needed a break.

    "Stop five minutes," I gasped, out of breath.

    "Five minutes," was her laconic reply.

    "And no replacing bras and clothes," I added.

    "I agree to that, because I'm going to have you naked as soon as we begin

again.  Then you'll really be vulnerable," she said grimly.



                                 *    *    *



    The more we fought, the more I asked myself whether there really could be

any future for Julie and me.  I was beginning to doubt it for the first time.

She had shown herself to be an uncompromising bitch during the fight, and I

had noticed certain other little things about her that hadn't been obvious

before.  Then I also recalled the fact that she had started an affair with

another man while denying me sex.  Even during our wrestling she had,

whenever possible, showed an obvious distaste for any sort of physical

intimacy or proximity with me.  So what chances had I?  Even if I won, it

would not be to my advantage.

    And if I lost?  Then I supposed that she would despise me, and I would be

nothing to her.

    Whatever the outcome of the fight I was a loser anyway!

    The five minutes was over quickly, these reflections making the time

pass, and before I knew it we were on our feet again, Julie apparently as

determined as ever to get her way and come out victorious.  I began to feel

that it didn't really matter, and I gave her opportunities in the minutes

that followed that led to my downfall.

    Before that happened, however, I managed briefly to get her against the

wall, and I made it my business to concentrate on her skirt.  I was

determined to get as many of her clothes off as possible.  With my head

against her midriff and using the leverage of my angled body to press her to

the wall, I grabbed the top of her leather skirt and started to tug it down

her thighs.  She shrieked abuse as I did so and grabbed my hair, but I was

quite determined to succeed, as far as her skirt was concerned.  And succeed

I did, for I finally got it down her legs and, to move at all, she was forced

to step out of it, doing so as I stood over her.

    But I had humiliated her by the way I had dragged her skirt off, and she

retaliated by a series of violent movements that ended up with her left hand

nearly choking my throat while she kicked me with her boot and punched my

back with her free right hand.

    It was disastrous, and I was on the floor in a minute, with Julie on top

of me.

    My power to continue the struggle, as well as my will, was declining, but

when she started to drag my underpants off I summoned up all the strength I

could to resist her.  Sitting on top of me she was forced to defend herself

against my flailing arms.

    But she was more determined than ever and, struggle as I did, she

gradually got her hands under my pants and, moving forward so that she was

sitting on my belly, she was able to reach round and draw my underpants down

my legs.

    And then, quite unexpectedly, she gave me a punch that winded me, and she

had no difficulty in pulling my pants off, getting to her feet and standing

over me.

    "There," she said, "you may as well admit defeat."

    I rolled over onto my face, completely exhausted and no longer having the

"bottle" to go on.

    "Get up," she said.  "Get up and concede."

    There was nothing else I could do, so I slowly turned onto my back and

then, completely naked, go to my feet.

    Julie stood imperiously in front of me.

    "Well, I asked you to admit defeat," she said.

    "I do, I admit defeat," I said.

    "Then show me - demonstrate to me - that you admit that I am in every way

superior to you," she insisted.

    I knew what she meant.  She wanted me on my hands and knees.  I was

reluctant to sink that low, but if I was not going to be her "master" then it

was inevitable that she would be mine.   What was the point of trying to

pretend that I would ever have any power over the incorrigible Julie?  So I

got on my knees and bent down before her, telling her that she was the

master.

    "It's taken you a long time to come to your senses," she said.  "You've

caused a lot of unpleasantness, and you made me resort to violence.  So don't

think because you had admitted defeat that all is well."  After a pause she

continued.

    "If you want us to stay together, you'll have to show full respect for me

and subordinate your own whims and desires to mine.  Do you understand?"

    I wasn't sure, but I was beginning to get a glimmering of what she was

aiming at: complete domination over me in our relationship.

    Was there any escape?  If we fought again would I beat her next time?  I

might if I resorted to any methods, regardless of the fact that she was a

woman, but I could not do that.  For example, there had been many

opportunities during our fight when I could have kicked her or punched her

breasts.  But I had refrained from doing such things, though she, on her

part, had not hesitated to resort to thumping me in the genitals or kicking

me with her heels when on the floor.

    I was nevertheless unwilling, despite everything, to give up so easily.

I wondered what she would do if I were to beat her, even resorting to kicking

and punching.  Would she then submit to MY domination?

    I decided to make one more try.  Without warning I now rushed at her and

threw her to the floor and at once straddled her.

    "Now," I said, "who is the master?"

    I think she was surprised at the sudden change in my attitude, but she

was also more angry than I had ever seen her.

    "So you resort to trickery and treachery, do you?" she said.  "Well,

we'll see."

    She used all her strength to free herself, and she eventually managed to

force me to one side, and I couldn't hold her down any longer.  Then we

rolled over and over, using all our strength to gain an advantage against the

other, not hesitating to pull each other's hair.

    More than once I was on top of her and almost thought I was going to

succeed, but she had enormous resources of strength and guile when it came to

the point, and she always managed to get out of difficulties just when her

position looked hopeless.

    I grabbed her knickers at one stage and managed to get them off her, and

shortly afterwards I ripped off her suspender belt so that her stockings slid

down to the top of her boots.

    "All right," she said, "we'll both be naked."

    She got to her feet and took off her boots and stood naked waiting for me

to resume the fight.

    I think it was the sight of her naked body that made me fight my best.

The thought of getting her on her back and taking her sexually fired my

imagination and suddenly gave me new strength.  Of course, it was more than

likely that she would be aware of this, and to prevent such a thing happening

to her she in her turn would doubtless fight to the death.

    I wonder what an onlooker would have thought if he had entered the room

at that moment.  He would have seen two naked people, a man and a woman,

obviously bent on getting a physical victory over the other.  He might have

wondered why no weapons were being used if it was a life-and-death fight, but

he wold soon have seen that, weapons apart, every effort was being made by

the contestants to get the upper hand, nothing being barred as far as the

woman was concerned, and very little as far as the man was concerned.

    He would have seen - in the following minutes - the man finally get on

top of the woman and present a spectacle that anyone coming on the scene for

the first time would have assumed to be a demonstration of the sexual act.

The man lay on the woman, her legs slightly parted, his partly erect prick

against her vulva.

    That, in fact, was the situation.  I had forced her onto her back and had

first straddled her, then I had stretched out to use my legs to control hers.

In an attempt on Julie's part to retaliate she had inadvertently opened her

legs, and I had slid between them.  I stared down into her face, her body

completely at my mercy.

    "Well," I said.

    "Do what you are going to do," she said nonchalantly.

    "You want me to?" I asked her.

    "Please yourself."

    Once again I was beaten by her indifference, and I decided to release

her.



                                 *    *    *



    I am not sure whether what appeared to be her contemptuous indifference

wasn't just a ploy to get her way - and to get free.  She had sized me up and

guessed how I would react to such a statement.

    Immediately on her release she jumped on me and resumed the fight just as

if nothing had happened, her breasts bouncing up and down as she struggled to

get some slight advantage.

    In the end we resorted to punching and slapping, and she even used her

naked feet in an attempt to kick me in the crotch.

    Finally she got the upper hand, sitting on top of me, and then moving up

into a squatting position close to my face.  I remembered how much she had

once loved me to lick and suck her vulva, and I wondered if it was her aim

now to get me to please her in this way.  Had she herself been roused in some

way by the naked fight between us?

    But I was unwilling to risk a rebuff by taking advantage of the fact that

my mouth was no more than an inch from her labia.  I would only lick her

there if she told me to do so.

    Instead she moved forward a little until my lips and hers were in

contact.

    I waited.  She kept perfectly still, and I took this to be a signal that

she wanted me to please her by using my tongue on her vulva.

    Making up my mind, I then thrust my tongue between the vertical lips and

probed the soft pink flesh of her vulva.



                                 *    *    *



    She allowed me to bring her to a climax, and then she got to her feet,

said she would talk to me a little later, and then left the room.  When she

returned she was attractively dressed in a short black dress, white stockings

and knee-length boots.  She had taken considerable trouble over her makeup.

    "I liked the way you fought me when you were naked," she said.

    "If you will listen to me and show proper respect for me in the future, I

think we could get on together.  I don't mind admitting that I like to

dominate a man, but by that I don't mean grabbing his newspaper.  That's only

a result of irritation because you failed to understand what I need."

    So we were back on the domination thimg, but she looked so glorious and

splendid that I forgot all the things I had been hating about her and went

over and bent before her.

    "I want to respect you, Julie, and I will also always do so from now on.

I also adore you."

    She allowed me to kiss her feet and then she bend down and gently kissed

my head.

    "You fought so well," she said, "while holding back, when once or twice

you could have won easily, that I should welcome another bout with you

sometime.  We could start naked and end in the way we did just now.  But

you'd have to show a lot of spirit and determination.  I am beginning to see

that you are worthy of domination, which is what I have always really thought

at the back of my mind."

    "So you want to dominate, but the man must be strong enough and of

sufficient character to be worth dominating.  It that it?" I asked.

    "Exactly," she said.

    "What about the man you've been having an affair with?" I asked her.

    "No use to me at all.  He's just feeble," smiled Julie.

    I suddenly realized that Julie really cared about me, or at least, cared

about continuing our relationship.  She was to be the master, so to speak,

but she wanted to lord it over a worthy opponent.

    I was luckier than I could possibly have imagined.

    

                                 *    *    *



    In the days that have passed since that memorable fight we have had two

or three more bouts.  But we planned them ahead and prepared things so that

we wouldn't be interrupted, with a careful time schedule of rounds.

Generally it has been five five-minute rounds.  They give us enormous

pleasure and serve to work off Julie's excessive energy and to demonstrate

her capability.  Even when I do everything to win, it always seems that she

comes out victorious in the end.  It may be that I finally let defeat come

about, for it takes place when Julie squats on me and then moves forward so

that her labia and my lips make contact.

    I might be an art that other lovers or couples could develop - as long as

they have a room big enough!



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