Shapeshifter's blog

More of a bodyscissor focus in this one :)

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His short, thick legs fastened around my abdomen just above my waist. Cruelly, they felt warm and safe, the very opposite of their intent when submission and control were on my boyfriend’s mind.
I instinctively flexed my abs to resist the squeeze that I was all too aware he could deliver, but found this to be wasted energy. The expected crush didn’t come, instead, he casually laid and just watched me.

He smiled at the power he knew his tree trunks legs had over me whenever they were around me, whenever they were laid over me … hell, whenever they were in close proximity or line of sight! There was a sudden, short, pulsing squeeze from his thighs and I felt a rush of adrenaline. He followed with another, and then another, each time holding the pressure a second longer whilst all the time watching my expression.

I’d laid my head back on a pillow, my back arched from the solid, round thigh that secured me from beneath it. My eyes had closed and hands had moved to rest upon the mound of muscle that surrounded me.

“Open your eyes” I heard him say, his voice soft “Open your eyes and look at me”

I raised my head and looked at him as those once relaxed legs now began to tighten. The pulsing squeeze had been a warm up - a warning shot - for the crushing experience I was about to receive.

First his adductors flexed, bracing me in position in the high-between-the-thigh spot he’d locked me in. Now, with his ankles securely locked and the foot of his upper leg tucked behind the foot of the lower, his legs began to straighten.

With their thickness the pressure built quickly, I held my gaze into his, feeling my expression change and watching his sparkling eyes drink in every detail of my resistance and suffering.

“That's it, keep looking at me” he said, having me fight every instinct I had to close my eyes as I flexed my core against the squeeze.

He laughed a little and looked to my abdomen, enjoying the sight of his thick thighs swelling as they crushed me.

“You can flex all you want” he looked back at me, in part to watch my expression again and also to check I was still looking at him “It’s over once you’re in there, my legs are going to keep tightening and tightening around you” my hands that had been admiring the feel of the muscle beneath them now pushed in vain at the legs that were moving so purposefully slow that they were still not yet at full extension “Just like a vice”.

My heels were planted into the duvet now as I bridged and tried to push back, to shift the lock around me and resist that little bit longer, but this futile attempt was brought to a swift end with a small rotation of his hips coupled with the incessantly growing pressure. I was soon flat on my back again, squeezed and obedient.

With them finally at full extension I grit my teeth and held on as long as I could. My squeezer continued to watch me, enjoying the feel and sight of my squirms, his experience enhanced by the sound of my groans as he casually laid and admired the work of his leggy grip. My abs began to faulter and his thighs closed the gap of their fractional surrender. His control was absolute and with my hands tapping the solid musculature of his thighs, I signalled my surrender.

He relinquished his grip steadily, a warmth flooding through my legs as the restricted circulation was granted free passage. His ankles remained crossed and legs still around me, feeling as though they were absorbing the very energy of my submission.

Granting me only a few seconds of respite he bent towards me at the waist and reached across my abdomen, taking hold of my left side and with a parting of his legs turned me towards him, re-securing his scissor a little higher to now be in the space between the base of my rib cage and top of my waist.

“Oh no” I breathed, having fallen victim to this particular variation countless times before, and was met once more by that submission assured grin.

“You didn’t think you were getting away from this one, did you?” he mocked “I saw that bridge, you need reminding of your place”

The stretch to full extension came more quickly this time. It wasn’t a sudden burst of pressure – he knew the harm he could do and had long favoured breaking me down slowly - watching my resistance turn to acceptance, my fight turn to surrender – but unlike his slower squeeze across my stomach, he reached his target power over the course of only six seconds, flexing his legs as far as possible with my body in this position.

I couldn’t even speak. The squeeze felt incredible, my body registering a peculiar combination of pressure and stretch on my obliques. He expertly held this at the point where only a few percent more would have me tapping. I had instinctively curled forwards, bringing my body so close to his that he could easily have got his arms around me and pulled me into a hug from this position. My hands were on his chest as though I was bracing against him, my head was down and my eyes clenched shut. I’d brought my knees so high behind him they almost touched the perfect curve of the bubble that was his ass. His power had got me foetal, curled up in defence of his crush.

“Oh my god” I said through clenched teeth “Oh my god, I give up”

The bands of solid muscle slowly relaxed. His right leg, the one that had formed the upper part of his trap and lay over me, bent at the knee and brought his thick calf to my back, pulling me forwards a little and holding me there, the tips of the toes of that foot tucked behind his left calf to signal enclosure. The limitation of his short legs meant he could not fully secure a figure four around my body.

Not for the first time, I allowed myself the fantasy of once again wondering just what that would feel like? How could he play with that power and position? How long could he hold it? Indefinitely? The embrace alone would have me afraid to move for fear of having the life squeezed out of me.

“Lay on your front” he said suddenly, unlocking his legs and pulling me from my imagination.

He repositioned now to be turned away from me, sliding one leg beneath me and the other across my back. As before, the foot of his upper leg tucked behind the foot of the lower leg. I had noticed this was a feature across all of his scissorholds where there was a top and bottom position.

Shuffling once again to ensure I was as high between his thighs as possible, he set about flexing and relaxing, ensuring this time their pressure was across my diaphragm. I was instantly breathless with each squeeze, each muscular contraction constricted my chest and held me at exhalation.

“What shall we call this one?” he asked rhetorically, facing away from me as I gasped with every opportunity to take a breath that I could, unable to actually hold enough air to form words “The Python Grip? Or how about The Anaconda Attack?” he considered “No, no, I wouldn’t be letting you take ANY air with either of those would I?”, there was a prolonged squeeze on the word ‘any’ as if to demonstrate just how easily he could do that “I’m going to stick with The Vice for now, how’s that sound to you, jobber?”

I remained unable to reply, pained and increasingly suffocated but enjoying every second of his constrictive control “Good" he chuckled "I’m going to take that as a breathless yes”

I can’t remember how long this had continued for. There were gaps to allow longer breaths, almost as if he could sense or at least had an educated guess of when I was becoming more lightheaded, but eventually he let me free, allowed me to catch my breath then eased me on to my back.

Adjusting his gear and the contents within as he knelt up beside me, he moved to mount my chest reverse style, facing towards my feet, resting his weight on me momentarily before settling back onto my face, his glutes easily enveloping my features. He rested there a brief moment before his now sweating thighs slid around my head and drew me up into a stifling reverse figure four.