"I quite like the idea of CFNM wrestling," Jeremy said to his wife, Kristine, one day.

"Really?" she answered sceptically, raising an eyebrow. "Yes I suppose you would, you kinky old pervert," she added, grinning.

"Yeah, I know!" he chuckled. "Seriously though, do you fancy it?"

"Me? No, not really."

"Why not?"

"Because we both have a different approach to wrestling. I’ve seen you wrestle, but you haven’t seen me. When you do it, you’re a typical amateur wrestler – there’s nothing wrong with that, but you’re in it for a bit of a laugh and a few beers afterwards. When I enter the ring I need to get motivated, dedicated. You’ve seen how I get when I lose…"

"I know," Jeremy sighed. "We have about a week of which move you should have done, and when.

"Exactly. Whereas you hobble about nursing your bruises, with a sheepish grin on your face, and make jokes about taking up a different hobby, like making model aeroplanes."

"But it would be different with you and me – husband and wife, CFNM - in a private match."

"It wouldn’t. Once we were in the ring you wouldn’t be my husband, you would be my rival.

Kristine prevailed for several weeks, but she got tired of Jeremy returning to the subject so many times, and she eventually consented, with strong reservations.

"Why not make it a no–holds-barred match?" she added, sarcastically.

"Yeah, great!" Jeremy agreed, missing the sarcastic note.

Kristine nodded to herself, thinking, "You deserve to be thoroughly trounced," and a slow smile crossed her face as she made up her mind to do just that.

*****

The rule was that members could hire the ring for a private match on a quiet night like a Monday, but the referee had to keep a distant watch from outside the ring. She was to use her own discretion as when to end the bout. There were no other stipulations, and the pair of them climbed into the ring on the first Monday after Kristine’s agreement to a bout.

They adopted a fighting stance, and locked hands. Jeremy pushed a little, and Kristine met it. He increased the pressure; she responded and they remained level. He swung to one side, and she brought them both back. This shook him. He had never really doubted that he could best her for sheer strength, and yet she was able to match him. More than that, she now took the offensive.

Kristine applied more pressure, and Jeremy began to give ground. She was slowly forcing him down and backwards. She held him at bay, took a deep breath, shoved, then let go, and her husband hurtled backwards into the ropes. She followed up instantly by kicking him in the balls. He shot up off the canvas, then landed on his back.

"Now do you believe me?" demanded Kristine, her foot on his cock. "It’s not a game when I get in the ring, is it? You should have taken what I told you more seriously."

"Ah, God … fuck that hurts!"

"You wouldn’t listen, would you? And now you’re paying the price."

She raised her foot, then stamped, causing Jeremy to yell. "Where’s the bloody ref when you need her?" he thought to himself. Kristine watched him get to his knees, then kicked him in the face, knocking him back down again.

"Come on, get up," she ordered, hauling him up off the canvas. Up off the canvas and into the air, that is. Her right hand held him by the neck, her left by the cock. She had gripped him there perhaps a million times in fun. Never had he suspected she would do the same out of hostility. And he had wanted a CFNM match! It was too late now, he thought grimly. She held him across her, tormenting him for probably a minute – an excruciatingly long minute for Jeremy – before headlocking him and slamming him backwards over her shoulder and onto the mat in a suplex.

Jeremy’s back jarred and thudded as it met the unfriendly surface. Kristine maintained the headlock, emphasising her dominance of him. Then she stood up, bent over him, and heaved his right arm, locking it behind him. Appearing to change her mind she let it go, and grabbed him by the hair, hauling him to his feet.

Without giving him time to react, or even gather his wits, she faced him and scooped his neck and his left leg in both her arms, which she linked. She began to rock to and fro. One, two, three … Up and over he went once again, backwards, in a superb cradle suplex. His shoulders banged down hard on the canvas for the second time in about two minutes. She maintained the cradle of his neck and leg for a few moments, before propelling him away from her, head first.

"Come on, do something," she told him as she watched him get shakily to his feet. "Take the initiative."

Jeremy struck with a right cross, but she sidestepped out of its path. She batted away his subsequent left cross. Similarly, another right cross was blocked, and then a left cross diverted. He tried once again with his left, but Kristine dropped to one knee and knocked it out of harm’s way.

"This is how it’s done!" she exclaimed, thrusting her left fist mightily into his stomach. Jeremy coughed and wheezed, while she slammed her right fist into the same place. Then she was in at him with her left again. He gasped and rocked forward with the pain, but Kristine grabbed his jaw with her right hand. Her left went to his cock, and he whimpered in pain and alarm.

"What’s the matter?" she taunted him. "Normally you love it when I take hold of your cock! That’s how you thought this evening would go, isn’t it? You wanted a naughty little match to give the old sex life a bit of spice, didn’t you? I did warn you."

Without warning this time, she hurled him against a corner post, and he hit it head first. Dazed and dispirited, Jeremy blundered to his feet, and saw through blurred vision his wife running at him. She knocked him down to his knees so she could breast smother his face.

"This was part of what you had in mind, more or less, wasn’t it?" she demanded. "Only it would have been in fun rather than combat."

He didn’t answer, so she turned him round and folded him down onto the canvas. Crouching behind him she locked his head in her right arm, and secured both his arms in hers in a dragon lock. Severe laser-like pain shot through his thighs, chest, ribs and spine as these were forced back while his stomach was pushed forward.

Kristine raised Jeremy to his feet, and locked her arms around his middle. Then she started swaying ominously back and forth again. 

"Please, not again!" implored Jeremy.

"What’s the matter?" she asked, grinning. "You’ve got a suplex complex! I knew you’d hate being thrown by me, that’s why I love doing it!"

Sure enough, up and over he went in a German suplex, and his shoulders banged down hard on the canvas for a third time. But she gave him no time to absorb the shock, for she rolled him onto his front, then raised him as she lay underneath him, and held him by his cock. She pulled, pushed and twisted, and he screamed.

"You did that the first time I slid my hand inside your trousers!" she laughed. "I had you at my mercy then, just as I do now, and I love it! I love being in control!"

She knelt, and Jeremy punched wildly, missing her head by a several inches. He almost fell forward with the impetus, so Kristine "steadied him" with a swift punch on his balls. He yelped in agony, before retreating and clutching his balls.

"Please, no more!" he entreated. But she ignored him. She held him still with her right hand, clenched her left fist, and let him have it, bang under the chin! She smiled cruelly as her husband staggered with the effect of her punch; but before his senses and balance could recover, she was in at his cock and balls with both hands, twisting and manipulating once more.

Kristine took a deep breath, braced herself, and lifted her husband off the canvas by his cock. He thrashed his arms and legs about in the air helplessly, uselessly. She laughed, then threw him back into the corner post.

"Oh no!" Jeremy thought as he saw her approach, with a terrifying look on her face. Those strong hands of hers pushed his head down so he could see, as well as feel her kick him in the balls. The wider gym echoed with his cries.

"I don’t know what’s wrong with you today," she told him ironically. "You normally like to watch me going to work on your cock and balls! Where’s the ‘Oh yeah, just like that’ today? I know, we’ll try this instead!" So saying, she brought her left knee up into his balls.

"No? Don’t like that either? You must be having an ‘off’ day."

Jeremy slumped forward, clutching his balls, and she slammed her right elbow down on his neck. He blundered about, having lost all his senses apart from pain. He probably wasn’t aware even that Kristine had lifted him up again, and turned him upside down. She gripped his head in her thighs, held him round his waist, and steadied herself for a piledriver. Then she jumped, and bludgeoned Jeremy’s head against with the canvas, as she sat comfortably behind him.

A soft despairing moan took the place of Jeremy’s earlier roars of pain. But Kristine still hadn’t finished. She grabbed his befuddled head, raised him to his feet, and threw him into the corner. No sooner was he there than she was at him, turning him round and locking her arms around his waist. Then she started the dreaded swaying again. One, two, three … he was in the air once more, as she manoeuvred him over her body in a fourth suplex. Down he crashed, on those shoulders that were still scorched from the previous landings.

Again, Kristine gave him no time for any degree of recovery. She stood over him and dragged him under her legs by his right wrist. Then she raised him until his face was trapped under her sex. If "face standing" were a term the same as "face sitting", then that is what she did, and she treated herself to a little enforced lady pleasuring. 

Still keeping up the initiative, Kristine now lifted him up, facing her. Showing no sign of diminished strength since the start of the match, she brought him to rest so that he was sitting on her shoulders. She may even have returned the favour he "granted" her a moment earlier. Then she let them both drop. If there were such a move as a "forward suplex", then that is how they landed, as she hammered his shoulders into the canvas for a fifth and final time.

Jeremy slumped down on his back, splayed out. Kristine stood over him with her foot on his cock. The ref decided it was enough, and entered the ring. She started counting while Kristine began moving her foot up and down his now erect cock. The count got to three, and Jeremy shuddered. Kristine raised her arms in triumph while spasms engulfed her husband, and the ref declared (with no pretence at impartiality):

"Male loser is finished, girl wins!!!"