Commander Caroline felt tired. She had been flying all day, and pulled out of the flight path for some recreation. She relaxed in her seat, slowed the spaceship right down, and pressed a button next to her, to reveal a curious capsule on the dashboard screen. She sighed happily, viewing what was inside. 

Or rather, who was inside. It was a man, known as X, press ganged into her crew after Caroline and her women had defeated a rival crew of men in pitched battle. He had been their commander, and she kept him for her "recreation". At the moment, he was asleep. She chuckled to herself at the sight. He was standing within the confines of the capsule, naked, except for a chastity cage locked around his penis. It aided the "equilibrium of sleep while standing" Caroline had told him. He had his doubts, but what could he do? He was a prisoner in all but name.

Caroline pressed a second button and a buzzer sounded in the capsule, waking him up. He never learnt, did he? Every time she woke him up, he would set off running, hoping to break into the luna module to try to escape. He never got that far – which was just as well, because it was guarded by Amazons, who would like nothing better than a little sport with a man. As it was, Caroline always intercepted him, just as she did on this occasion.

"Hey, not that way!" she called after him. He turned round, but he knew what was coming next.

"It’s that way," she told him sharply, giving him an unfriendly push, "to the recreation room."

The "recreation room" was a wrestling ring. Caroline’s idea of "recreation" was to wrestle a man into submission (or worse). It was where she worked off the pressures of command and space travel. She grinned as she faced her prey. She looked both beautiful and frightening in equal measure. Her silver, skin-tight leotard was daringly unzipped halfway down its length. She knew that the glimpse of cleavage aroused X, who had been starved of sex since his capture. That, of course, hurt, bearing in mind the chastity cage. Yes, Caroline was a sadist.

"Let us begin," she commanded, grabbing the back of his head and his right forearm. He was familiar with the strong grip of her hands. But at the same time, he knew he mustn’t be submissive. She expected him to fight back, and it didn’t bear thinking about what she would do to him if she suspected him of letting her win. Not only that, his instinct was to resist.

So he tried to pull back. Caroline smiled at his inadequate defence (no wonder her women defeated his men) and whipped his body down to head lock him. She had his neck secured in the crook of her powerful right arm and dragged him down to the mat, until she knelt behind him. He supported himself on his left hand while he choked and gasped within the head lock. 

"I’m sorry I woke you up," she said with heavy sarcasm, but perhaps this will make up for it." So saying, she lay on her side and sandwiched his midsection between her thighs for a body scissor, while engulfing his head and neck in her arms in a sleeper. 

But it didn’t last very long. Telling him she couldn’t allow him to fall asleep just yet, she lay over him on her side and zipped her left arm around his neck. From the distance, it looked as if she was cradling him; from his point of view, it was no longer a head lock, but a choke. Because that’s what he was doing. For good measure, she had his near, left arm secured too, because she didn’t want him getting any ideas of escape. 

"She’s evil," thought X to himself, as he squinted up into her smiling eyes. This was her idea of entertainment. She loved to taunt him, to tease him with her body while dominating him. They both knew that she had twin powers which rendered him helpless: her prowess at wrestling, and her voluptuous body. 

She now used it to full advantage. She pinned his upper body and locked both his arms by lying across his chest. Trapping his left arm between her thighs, she manipulated and twisted his right arm, using both hands. Her hard nipples dug into his chest through the flimsy material of her leotard while she went to work on his arm. X moaned and sighed, both at the pain in his arm and at the growing discomfort in his cock, straining as it was against the harsh wiring of its cage. 

But it was a bit early on for that kind of sport. It was just an appetiser. Caroline had a match to win, after all, so she knelt over him and heaved his left leg up, locking it in her linked arms. X cried out as she hauled it into grotesque angles from the knee and hip, probing his pain barrier.  

Its success gave her an idea. Kneeling on her left knee, she placed her right foot between his legs and scooped his other leg up into the lock of her linked arms. She folded his legs over each other, pulling his body up by them. This double leg lock, in which she bent his legs the "wrong" way set them on fire from his toes to his hips. 

His right leg, in particular, suffered agonisingly. She had it wedged upwards from the knee against her right leg, but forced it under this left leg at the ankle. It endured as much of an ankle lock as a leg lock, and it soon felt to X as if it had no life left in it. If he had to stand now, he would have to do it on his weakened left leg. 

There was no end to Caroline’s inventiveness. She now squatted over him, keeping his legs "in place" as they were, using her legs to trap them. With her arms free, she heaved both his arms behind his back, full Nelson-style, to imprison them under the wrists within her linked arms. X felt as if she was dragging them out of their sockets. He got a tearing feeling from his shoulders around to his chest, probably because she was stretching his muscles, joints and tendons to the point of tearing them. 

The more X yelled in pain, the more Caroline reinforced the holds on his legs and arms. You couldn’t appeal to her. She relished the pain she was inflicting on him. 

Working through her holds speedily, she half-stood behind him, but with her left leg in front of his left leg. With her left hand holding him under the chin, she locked his right arm under her left arm. But the real point of the hold was the ankle lock she imposed on his right leg. She had him partially raised across her front as she bent his right leg from the foot and ankle into agonising positions. X shouted out a string of expletives as she heaved his ankle up at extreme angles from the knee.

Still maintaining her demanding pace, Caroline knelt on her right knee over his shoulders, half-scissoring his head in the crook of her knee. With both hands, she yanked his left arm up into a lock behind and above his back. Having temporarily destroyed his legs, it appeared to be the turn of his arms to endure her warped skills. 

At least that’s what X thought, but he was wrong. She worked him into a sitting position and knelt behind him on one knee. She thrust her left arm around his neck and choked him by pulling it hard against his throat with her right hand. Try as he might, he couldn’t prize himself free. 

It was lucky Caroline worked her way quickly through her holds, because he wouldn’t have survived that one for long. In fact, she now opted for a conventional camel clutch. She returned to the textbook, as it were. Sitting on the small of his back, with his arms trapped between her legs and her sides, she dragged him upwards by the chin, while pushing down with her weight on his back. It was punishing for his neck, chest, stomach, ribs and spine.

X had discovered that she liked to put in her own variations with holds though, so she continued with a "sort of camel clutch". Forcing him onto his hands and knees, she squatted over his back, but still pulled him upwards by her hands under his chin. 

Caroline let him drop down to the mat, then continued with another variation of the camel clutch. Kneeling over him on one knee, she continued to drag him up by the face, using just her left hand. She gripped his right hand with her right hand, and briefly amused herself further by locking his fingers. Every time he yelped, it seemed to add to this amusement. She let go of the hand and for a few moments, pulled his head up still higher, using both hands. 

Kneeling over X so she straddled him now, Caroline seized his right arm and twisted it behind his back. The "crew member" roared in pain at her cruel manipulations. Warming to the theme, she stood up beside him and locked his arm vertically. Moments earlier, she had concentrated on punishing his elbow joint; now, his whole arm from socket to fingertips seemed to be engulfed in internal flames of agony. Leaning into his arm with her forward leg enabled her to bend his arm over it, while she worked away at the whole limb from the wrist.

Then she dropped the arm and it fell uselessly to his side. It was time (from her point of view, anyway) to go to work on his other arm. She had the helpless man on his side as she locked his left arm in her linked arms. This allowed her to push it against her left breast. Despite the misery she was inflicting on him, this feeling of her soft breast on his arm was an unpleasant reminder that he had had no sex for a long time – as it was meant to be.

Something Caroline had ignored up until now – unusual for a woman when wrestling a man – was the head scissor. This had to be put right. Reclining back on both hands she let him have one both barrels (or both thighs). X made futile, comic attempts to free his neck from her powerful, flexible legs. She was able to ignore his wildly flailing hands and ratchet up the pressure as she chose.

She sat up to view the progress of the scissor, as demonstrated on his face with his look of weary suffering. How satisfying to see his expression of resigned powerlessness! Caroline felt the life flowing back into her after hours of dull flying, while she drained it out of X. 

"I look forward to this every morning," she purred, stretching out above X on her back, her head pointing down his body while those lethal legs gripped his neck. "Do you look forward to it?" she asked, crossing her ankles over beyond his head, and propping herself up on her hands. "Yes, of course you do!" she answered for him, since he couldn’t.

Using the scissor, she hooked X onto his side. Supporting herself on her right hand, she smiled down at the prisoner encased in her thighs. She loved the power she had over him. She would relax the hold a little, watch him breathe in gratefully, then clamp her legs tightly round his neck, and snigger at the despair on his face. 

As with the camel clutch earlier, Caroline enjoyed the variations she could make out of this hold. To X, they seemed infinite, yet the same. It was always his neck that was punished and his breathing restrained. Sometimes he could see her beautiful, cruel face enjoying his discomfort; sometimes he could just sense her twisted pleasure.

Such was the case now, as she rested on her hands behind him and crossed her legs over under his throat. He heard her laugh at his dismal efforts to prize her legs off him.  His powerlessness disgusted him and delighted her. Not that the detail of the scissor would have interested him at all, but his neck was trapped in the crook of her left leg, with her right leg playing a supporting role.

Caroline flipped him onto his side again, keeping the half-scissor going. Most of their wrestling sessions had a similar pattern: she would go through the menu of holds, with her own personal variations, and then settle down for some head scissoring at roughly the halfway mark. At least X could comfort himself that they were well into second half – although nothing felt comforting at the moment. It was simply a matter of endurance and praying for survival. 

He wouldn’t care if you pointed out to him that her scissoring showed impressive strength and endurance on her part as well. For example, the fact that she now supported her whole body confidently on her right hand in a sort of half push up. "She doesn’t have to do it," is what he would probably answer afterwards, while rubbing his sore neck. 

Caroline shifted to the more comfortable position (for her, at any rate) of lying on her back. X didn’t care where she lay. It made no difference to him. Her merciless thighs were still constricting his neck.

"It’s that time again," she sighed.

"Here we go," thought X, knowing what she would do.

Sure enough, she settled into a reverse head scissor position, though it was more of a face sit. Wrestling always stimulated her sexual appetite, and now he must pleasure her. Then – and this is what made her a classic, first-class bitch – she started lightly pinching the skin of his balls under the mesh of the cage. Of course this sent the blood racing to his manhood, and X suffered agonies as it struggled to rise inside the wire mesh.

Luckily, today this ordeal didn’t last long. Caroline was satisfied mercifully quickly, and she knelt contentedly with one knee on the exhausted X’s throat briefly, before enjoying a victory pose. 

"Well, that’s our recreation over for another day, X," she told him. "Now, kiss my hand – that’s right – and then go back to your quarters. Oh, and don’t try to escape anymore; it’s becoming boring. If you ever did get to the luna module, it’s guarded by Amazons. If one of them got hold of you, she wouldn’t be nice to you, like me."