by SleepWalker

Chapter 1: Orientation

Diana followed the tall, long-legged woman in the red thong down the
corridor. The woman’s matching red heels clicked loudly on the polished
floor, echoing throughout the length of the hallway. They stopped at the far
end before a door marked “Training”.

“This is where you’ll be spending the majority of your days during the next
six weeks,” the woman in red informed her. Then she pushed open the door and
they stepped inside.

Diana found herself in an expansive, well-lit gymnasium and she took in the
scene, wide-eyed. Knots of lithe, scantily-clad women were gathered around a
dozen wrestling mats. They too were dressed only in the tiniest of string
bikini thongs, but unlike the woman’s, theirs were uniformly black. Several
of the slender young nymphs nearby nodded deferentially to Diana’s guide.

“Good evening, Director,” they said simultaneously, bowing slightly. The
woman in red ignored them, watching Diana intently and with no small amount
of amusement. Then she led her by the hand to the nearest mat, parting the
cluster of leggy nymphettes until they had a ringside view of the action.

Diana beheld a slender young woman in the middle of the mat who was
apparently in the process of defeating a much older and much larger man.
Diana was instantly aroused by the sight of him. His body was toned and
rippled with muscles. His tight ass was offset nicely by a high-cut pair of
briefs almost as revealing as the girl’s tiny thong.

The man’s body might have been in good shape, but the man overall was not.
He was obviously already punch-drunk; he stood in the center of the mat
swaying like a tree in the wind. He shook his head, trying to clear it,
while attempting to maintain his balance and remain on his feet. What had
she done to him? Diana wondered, then riveted her attention on the girl as
she again approached her disoriented victim.

The girl circled him, wearing a wry smile as she surveyed the man from head
to toe. She coyly placed a pinky at the corner of her mouth, deciding what
to do next. Without warning, she stepped forward quickly and swept her long
leg upward, kicking the man’s hard abdominal muscles once, then twice with
the extended instep of her foot. “Oof!” he exclaimed as he bent forward,
clutching his softened stomach. She kicked her knee up violently, smashing
it into his down-turned face and he recoiled abruptly backward.

Somehow, he managed to keep his feet. She moved toward him and grabbed the
top his balding head. She pushed his head slightly to one side as if
positioning it. Then she raised her hand, flattened it and chopped him at
the base of his neck. “Ungh!” he grunted. She delivered a second chop to his
bruised neck and this time his knees buckled. As if in slow motion, he
collapsed, falling forward into her. She propped him up for a second, then
let him slide slowly downward against her soft, sweat-slickened body until
he lay crumpled and writhing at her feet.

She looked down at him and shook her head in mock disgust, admiring her
handiwork with a smile. She sat down beside him and pulled his head into her
lap, then wrapped her fleshy thighs around his head. She secured the inside
of one fleshy thigh snugly against his throat; her other leg pressed firmly
against the side of his neck. Then she squeezed, constricting the man’s
carotid arteries and cutting off the blood supply to his brain. He weakly
brought his hands up and grabbed her knees, trying to wrench them apart, but
to no avail. His hands soon slid uselessly off her legs and lay limply on
the mat. The girl cinched her legs together in a sudden pulse. He groaned.
Then she squeezed again and felt him go limp between her legs. He exhaled
once and moaned, then lapsed into unconsciousness.

Diana felt a surge of energy. She wanted to
do that! That’s why she’d contacted the agency in the first place: to
satisfy this insatiable craving to render men unconscious; to watch them
pass out at her feet or between her own legs or beneath a sudden chop from
the knife-edge of her hand. She hoped she would get her chance soon.

The Director gently pulled Diana away from the mat through the crowd. Diana
turned to look as she was pulled away, straining for one last look at the
sleeping man. Two leggy, high-heeled guards were loading his inert form onto
a gurney and wheeling it away. Diana felt another surge of wetness and
warmth, then she hurried away, trying to keep up with the Director’s long

“Svetlana is one of her best,” the Directory commented over her shoulder. “I
once saw her put a man out using only her knees. He finally passed out with
her kneeling on his neck as she pressed her knee relentlessly against his
carotid. Very effective.”

The two guards were wheeling the gurney, one at either end, toward the door
when the man stirred slightly and began to wake up. They stopped and the
taller woman at the head of the gurney bent over, her lovely rounded ass
stick out prominently. She chopped him hard on the side of the neck and the
man let out a deep sigh. She chopped him a second time and he seemed to sink
into the gurney’s bedding, completely unconscious once again. His head fell
to one side and a small stream of drool dribbled out of the corner of his
mouth. His lips had parted slightly. Then the two continued and had soon
rolled him out of the gym.

Diana was positively rigid at this point and squirmed uncomforatbly to relieve
some of the tension building up in her. As if reading her mind, the
Director led her to the next mat and said, “It’s time to show us your stuff,
Diana. Let’s see what you can do with this next gentleman.”

to be continued…

Chapter 2: Diana’s Big Test