Tim's headscissors were absolute, perfectly locked into the back of my neck and held secure by his tightly locked ankles stretched out before me. His thigh muscle was so immense even at rest it almost buried me and when he did flex in it was devastating.
Escape was impossible and even an attempt at liberty would trigger a force so great it might sleep me. He had already submitted me it was brutal and left me drained. Now I waited for what would come next, another powerful flex of his quads to crush and force me to yield? Some form of punishment or humiliation?
He was wet I could feel his sweaty thighs around me the result of his powerful assault and my efforts to survive his impressive strength. Our bodies intertwined produced a soup unique in its essence the smell of struggle with the victor's scent dominant. He was warm too his thighs radiated an undeniable power.
Every few seconds came a reminder of his dominance in the form of a targeted flex using one muscle at a time to dull my recovery. He made it clear my time between his legs was going to be an ordeal.