By Mike

Jazzmon was only going to be in town for a few days and wanted to squeeze in as many sessions as she could. Southern California is always lucrative for her, but part of making any road trip successful is getting as many clients to her hotel suite as possible. Making house calls is very time consuming, but she does of course charge more for that.

Paul had been in contact with her for several weeks setting up his session. He insisted it be done at his place and considering the severity of the session Jazzmon didn't object. He was also willing to pay extra for her to come to him.

During the short cab to his apartment Jazzmon reviewed his session requirements and specifications on his Emailed letter. She's also made several notes on the pages during her telephone conversations with him, which she also reviewed and memorized. Being a true professional, she needed to be certain she understood exactly what he wanted.

Soon she arrived at the somewhat luxury Sunset Strip condominium. She paid the cab driver and got out. Jazzmon walked into the front door and rang the buzzer next to Paul's name in the vestibule. Very quickly he answered and buzzed her in. She took the elevator to his floor and quickly found his apartment.

Paul, a medium size man of average looks in his late twenties, quickly answered the door. "Come in" he said. Jazzmon entered and offered him her hand. "Hi, I'm Jazzmon, so nice to finally meet you" she said in a very friendly and sincere way shaking his had firmly. Paul was impressed. She had the handshake of a man, which didn't really surprise him, and he could tell she was so far everything he'd imagined. "No trouble finding the place?" he asked. "Not at all…I just gave the address to the driver who luckily spoke English" she responded in her deep raspy voice. They both giggled a bit.

Jazzmon followed Paul into his modest but very nice two-bedroom condo, taking a quick securing look around. "Nice place" she said pleasantly. "Thanks" Paul answered. "Listen, I hope you've got all this straight" he said with a little suspicion in his voice. "Of course…Why do you ask?" Jazzmon asked. He pointed out her very conservative outfit, which was nothing like what he described for her to wear. Jazzmon quickly pointed out her large tote bag over her shoulder and explained she would change into it for the session. She would have drawn too much attention if she'd worn it to get there! Paul agreed!

"I need us to take care of business before we begin," she said politely. "No problem" Paul said. He reached into the pocket of his sweat shorts and pulled out a wad of money and handed it to Jazzmon. She took the money, her fee, in her oversized hand. She thanked him and asked for a place to change. Paul directed her to his bedroom.

Behind the closed door, Jazzmon quickly counted the money to be sure it was correct. Then she started to change. She thought to herself how Paul looked different than she'd imagined. However, her mind was really on the job and the work she was going to do. She imagined it in her mind and pictured Paul afterward. Just something she usually does before a session or job.

Back out in the living room Paul was getting quite nervous and excited. He fantasized about this for so long and now it was about to become a reality! He was of course scared, but that kind of added to his excitement. He to was imagining it and thinking what he'd look like after.

"Are you ready for me?" Jazzmon called from the bedroom "Yes" Paul answered turning toward the hall she'd be coming down. When she appeared, Paul's mouth nearly dropped out of his head! By changing her outfit she'd transformed herself into the goddess of destruction he dreamed of. Wearing a pair of skintight black shorts, white sweat socks, black combat boots and a white tank top, she strutted toward him. In her hands she held a pair of black leather sap gloves and a piece of paper. She was both stunning and frightening to say the least!

"Better?" she asked rhetorically "Oh yes" Paul answered with a slight quiver? Jazzmon asked where he wanted to do this. "Is here okay?" he asked referring to the living room and dining room area. Jazzmon took another quick look around and said it was fine.

Standing face to face with her in this outfit Paul realized fully just how big she was. Her massive 5'8" 180lbs. sculpted and muscular frame paled his modest, almost boyish, build. Even though he actually stands about an inch taller than she does, she still slightly dwarfed him given the extra height of her boots and the fact that he wore only socks on his feet. Her huge 44DDD's were almost bursting from her tank top. He wondered how she got the man's XXXLarge shirt on. Jazzmon could tell he was definitely affected and asked for some water to re-break the ice and move things along. She wanted water anyway.

Paul went to the kitchen and returned with a big glass of ice water. Jazzmon was sitting on the couch still holding her gloves and paper. Paul handed her the water. She took a sip and set it down on the coffee table.

"So, how do we start?" Paul asked sheepishly. Jazzmon explained they would first go over everything. As they spoke, Paul had a tough time keeping his mind on the conversation. First he kind of fixated on her massive arms. Her long, braided, blondish hair hung beautifully down her huge shoulders. Most black women don't look good with blond hair, but she does! Soon his attention moved to her immense legs. He was completely entranced although certainly not totally out of the conversation. He wondered what it would be like to bear the brunt of this brutally beautiful beast.

He was impressed at how stoic and clinical Jazzmon was about the whole thing while still being very friendly. She's very much a true professional. Even though she does enjoy it, this is her job to her and she wants to do the best she can for her clientele. Very calm, cool and accurately Jazzmon described everything they were going to do. She also explained the injuries she would inflict on him and what treatment he'd likely need. This alone was an immense turn-on. She also showed him her black leather sap gloves. With their 8 ounces of powdered lead sewn across the fists, he knew this was going to be a day he would not forget! Her friendly professional demeanor was certainly disarming.

They agreed that everything was in order and Jazzmon handed him the paper she'd been holding. It was a liability waiver that basically outlined what was going to happen, that he was a willing participant and protected her from any and all harm. Paul gave it only a quick glance and signed it. Jazzmon excused herself back to his bedroom to put the legal document back into her bag. "When I come, out we'll begin" she said as she walked away.

Less than a minute later Jazzmon returned. Paul was still sitting on the couch. She placed her gloves on the coffee table and took a sip of water. Everything that happened from here on was basically by Paul's design. "I'd like to warm up a little" Jazzmon said. Sure, go head" Paul responded. She stepped toward the center of the room and began doing a little exercise routine.

Jazzmon Slowly started with some slow deep knee bends. Paul eyed her massive legs as her huge calves pressed tight against her thighs spreading her giant knees out fully. What a sight! Then she did some stretches. He could see every beautiful muscle flex and strain as if they were going to pop! Jazzmon breathed deeply with each flexing stretch. In through her mouth, out through her nose.

After a few minutes of bending and stretching, Jazzmon laid face down on the floor and proceeded to do 25 perfect pushups in quick secession. Her tremendous arms bulged and pulsated, seaming to have a life all their own. Paul was entranced! Then she turned over and sat down on the floor for some more stretching. Slowly, deeply she reached out and grabbed each of her boots with her bare hands. First straight on, then side to side.

Jazzmon then got up and began doing some shadow boxing. One after the other she threw quick and varied rights and lefts starting with and concentrating on jabs. Paul paid particular attention to this! He could see that she could definitely fight and was not just some big muscle chick. She talked the talk and walked the walk! She started throwing in some really fine kicks and knees to. She threw her legs around and thrust her knees up just as though she was actually hitting someone. Paul watched her tough lovely face cringe and contort with each phantom blow as she demonstrated her ability as though it were the real thing. Paul was by now even more scared and excited!

Finally she finished. The entire display took about 10 minutes. Jazzmon took a sip of water and went toward Paul who was still sitting on the couch. She placed her right leg on the couch between his legs and leaned forward. Her bulbous knee, twice the size of any he'd ever seen, in his face and her huge calf pressed tight against her thigh, she ordered him to start worshipping her leg.

Paul nervously reached out and began stroking the massive limb before him. "You do this a lot?" he asked? "All the time" Jazzmon responded. "Really…This is a popular thing?" he asked starting to kiss and lick her leg. "More so than you'd think" she responded with a chuckle. "I also do a lot of wrestling to" she added switching legs giving him her left. Paul was thoroughly enjoying Jazzmon's legs. He stroked, kissed, licked and rubbed his face all around for a couple more minutes.

Jazzmon stood up, walked to the center of the room and told Paul to follow. She ordered him on to his knees for some more leg worshipping. He of course complied. Gently, with increasing confidence, he continued his worship of her giant tree trunks. "Could we do some wrestling?" he asked. "Um…maybe I could do some moves on you, but I don't wanna wear you out or hurt you before the main event" she responded condescendingly. "Okay" Paul said, blissfully making love to her legs. She soon squat down before him, her massive legs pressed to full size. He didn't skip a beat.

Jazzmon soon leaned back on her hands. Every sculpted muscle in her magnificent arms bulged seductively. Her legs, still folded now at a 45-degree angle, made still a beautiful target for Paul's worship. "How many guys you do this with?" he asked speaking in a breathy voice. "I never really counted, but it's been a lot" she answered. Then she shifted, unfolding her legs to give him access to her under thigh's and calves. Paul eagerly continued his homage.

Finally Jazzmon told him it was time to show her arms some respect. Paul crawled around to them and began to prod, kiss and lick them with her still leaning back on them. He dutifully worshipped every sculpted bulging muscle while Jazzmon watched making sure he did it right. Each arm at a time, he stroked, kissed and licked with the same hungry devotion he'd used on her legs.

"I do beat up a lot of guys, but not all them are the ones paying me," Jazzmon said opening the door to his next question. "What do you mean?" he asked. Jazzmon explained that in addition to doing private sessions she also hired her muscle out to those seeking revenge on others. Paul was fascinated and wanted to know more. "Lotta guys in this world who deserve a good beating" she said with a decidedly tough tone in her voice. "It's nothing personal…I'm paid to do the work," she added. "That's so hot" Paul sighed.

After a while, Jazzmon got down on her knees and flexed one arm at a time for Paul to go down on. Kneeling behind her he continued his worshipping each arm in turn while stroking her again folded legs. "What's the worst you do to people?" Paul asked. "You really wanna know?" she asked, to which Paul said "yes." Jazzmon took a deep breath. "I break arms, legs, fingers, kneecaps…Just about anything the client wants and can afford" she said casually. Paul wanted to know more while he kept worshipping her arms and legs.

Jazzmon wouldn't of course name names or specifics, but she nonetheless recounted several jobs she'd done. This turned Paul on even more! She told him that most of her clients are women and most of the targets are men who wronged them in some way. She usually doesn't beat up women as a rule, but has on occasion. She told him that she's got a network of equally dangerous and efficient associates mostly women, but some men to, who do this as well as the private sessions. They share and pass jobs off to each other when they're not able to do it.

Paul of course wanted to know if she kills. To that she declared a resounding "no!" "I don't believe in murder" she declared emphatically, while adding that the world would be nonetheless better without certain people in it! Paul, afraid he'd insulted her, just continued paying homage to her magnificent arms and legs.

Jazzmon soon ordered Paul to move in front of her to continue his worship, which he did. Finally he got the nerve to ask how she breaks someone's legs or kneecaps, something he finds strangely enticing. Kneecaps, she explained, are easier yet more serious than just the legs. "I usually beat them up first, then hold their legs up by their ankles and bust them with a small lead pipe I have" she said stoically. OUCH, Paul thought! "That must hurt" he suggested. "I'm sure it does" Jazzmon said with a chuckle.

She went on to explain that breaking legs is a little harder. She continued that usually she secures their ankles together with ductape, sits them in a chair, props their feet up on another chair so their legs are suspended, then uses a baseball bat usually across the shins. "They must scream really loud" Paul says, his briefs filled with cum that leaked out his cock. Jazzmon told him she usually puts a piece of ductape over their mouth's to muffle their shrieks. She explained that busted kneecaps are more serious cause they usually require surgery, often even artificial replacement, and lots of rehabilitation. Broken legs can usually be just set and placed in a cast. He wanted to know how she reconciled it morally. "If I show up on your doorstep, chances are you did something to bring me there" she answered frankly. "If you fuck with someone, you gotta be prepared for consequences...Sometimes you get the law, sometimes you get someone like me" she added.

Paul was absolutely intoxicated by what Jazzmon was telling him and her beautifully buffed body he'd been so devoted to all the while! She ordered him onto his back and proceeded to sit on his chest. With her knees on the floor she put her bare right fist to his mouth and ordered him to worship it. He did, with the voraciousness of a hungry animal. Jazzmon smiled a little alternating hands. These mallets would soon be dressed in more than 10 ounces of powdered lead and leather and dance all over his boyish face and body.

Soon she told him to stroke her legs some more. He did, even though he was only able to get to their sides being trapped under Jazzmon's 180lbs. of destructive muscle. "Has a private session client ever had you break his legs?" he finally asked. "No, that would be a new one to me" Jazzmon laughingly answered.

Jazzmon shifted and placed both her massive knees on Paul's meager arms. "This is called a school boy pin" she said with a smile. She squeezed his face between her thighs. He loved it! Feeling her on top of him and in such a helpless position filled Paul with even more ecstasy. He worried he might suffer the embarrassment of his shorts becoming soaked through. Jazzmon flexed her powerful arms for him to see.

Suddenly she jumped off him and forced him into a mean scissors hold. She squeezed his mid section between her mammoth legs forcing the air out of him. Then she let up to allow him to breathe a bit. She told him what this hold was called as she squeezed again. Then she did it a third time before releasing him. "I'd show you more, but like I said I don't wanna hurt you doing that" she explained standing over him as he struggled to catch his breath from the effective assault of her vice-like legs. "Besides, times ticking and we've got to wrap this up soon" she added. Fear started to return to Paul as he realized it wouldn't be long now.

She walked back over to the couch, sat down, pulled her knees to her well-oversized chest and ordered him over for some more leg worshipping. Paul quickly complied. On his knees before his master, he eagerly kissed licked and stroked every inch of her temple of legs as she ran her fingers through his brown thinning hair. He realized this might be the last time he'd be so intimate with this brutal body and sensuous legs realizing he was running out of time. "You're a good boy," Jazzmon said sweetly petting his head. "I don't want you to worry about anything…It's gonna be all right" she added very lovingly. Paul started to whimper a little. Jazzmon kept stroking his head and making soothing "SHHHHHing" sounds one would make for a baby to reassure him. "Don't worry baby, your gonna be just fine" she said with a big smile as she held his chin up and looked straight into his puppy dog eyes.

Jazzmon got up and walked over to the small wet bar in the corner. She picked up a high backed bar stool and placed in the center of the room. "Might as well be comfortable," she said gesturing at the chair. Paul slowly stood up and eyed the chair. "Go on…sit" Jazzmon said invitingly with her big smile. Paul stepped over toward the stool as Jazzmon stepped back toward the coffee table. She took several big gulps of water, then reached for her sap gloves. She slipped them on over her large hands as she stepped back toward Paul who was getting settled in the stool. She had a little smirk on her face that seemed to say "gee, too bad" as she sighed deeply.

Paul's heart was racing faster than ever by now. She cracked her knuckles and tightened her gloves. "Just relax…Take it easy…It's gonna be all right" Jazzmon said, almost motherly, as she drew up her right fist, took aim, and plowed it through Paul's left eye. He immediately saw stars and never really saw the second identical blow. Jazzmon then took aim with her mighty left and clubbed him across his right cheekbone with an intense left hook, knocking Paul off the stool to the floor.

He moaned and groaned as she reached down and brought him to his feet. She held him by the shirt with her left hand and clocked him across the left cheekbone with a mammoth right hook sending Paul sailing across the room and crashing to the floor. Jazzmon slowly approached him, her mallet-like fists clenched at her side. Paul, in a slight state of shock, rived around on the floor moaning and groaning. Jazzmon reached down and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands.

She dragged him toward the wall and sat him there with his legs out straight. Then she squat down in front of him, sitting on his legs. With a smile, she tightened her left fist and pummeled his right eye with 3 fast left jabs, insuring a matched set of hefty black eyes. "You sure you want the rest of it?" Jazzmon whispered into his ear. Paul, beaten and in agony, mumbled feebly "every penny's worth you black bitch."

Jazzmon immediately yanked Paul to his feet and stood him against the wall. She then blasted through his nose with a powerful, lightning fast right jab. His poor nose exploded under her fist. Water filled his swelling eyes as blood began to ooze from his freshly broken nose. Without skipping a beat, Jazzmon laid a powerful right through Paul's narrow belly. He keeled over and was met by an intense jolt of her massive bare right knee. She stepped back and let him fall to the floor.

Paul lied there, moaning and groaning and gasping for air, as Jazzmon rubbed her gloved hands together inspecting her work. After about a minute, she reached down and grabbed him up by his shirt with her left hand. Holding him at about her waist, she belted him in his mouth with a powerful downward right. Her mallet-like fist careened into his lips with a loud CRACK! Then she carefully laid him back down, blood spilling from his mouth.

Jazzmon stepped over toward the coffee table and took several large swigs of water. After giving Paul a couple of minutes to rest, she strutted back over and brought him again to his feet. "Almost done" she said sweetly, positioning him against the wall again. Then she attacked his stomach with a rapid barrage of rights and lefts. The intense force of the blows kept him standing. Finally she stopped. Paul slumped forward. Jazzmon caught him and pushed him back against the wall. Then she delivered a final facial assault. Back and forth she pummeled his already busted and swelling face with quick rights and lefts using a boxing stance. Her powerful fists accurately slammed into his mangled face leaving almost no spot untouched. Uppercuts, hooks, crosses and jabs pounded into him for about a minute straight till finally she stopped.

Jazzmon took him under his arms with both hands and gently dragged him to the couch. She lovingly laid him down. Paul was barely conscious as she went to the bathroom and returned with a couple of damp washcloths. She carefully wiped his blood soaked face with one, then laid the other over his forehead. Paul lied there in agony. Moaning and groaning and gasping a bit, he drifted off into a state of sleep.

Jazzmon went back into the bedroom and quickly changed back into her street clothes. She came back out and made sure he was okay. Paul, in a semi-conscious state, still moaned and groaned. She smiled over him. "Was it as good as you'd hoped for?" she asked. "Oh, yeah" Paul mumbled. "Would you like me to call an ambulance for you?" she asked compassionately. "Yeah, that'd be great" he feebly replied.

Jazzmon went to the kitchen, picked up the phone and dialed 911. She calmly told the operator that there was a man here who need some medical attention without elaborating too much. Then she hung up and wiped the phone clean of her prints. Force of habit. "You take care of yourself and be sure to call me when you're able to let me know you're okay" she said to Paul. "If you ever want it again, you know how to find me" she continued. Then she left. She went downstairs and hailed a cab. As she drove off down the Boulevard, the ambulance passed. Jazzmon smiled broadly watching the flashing lights turn into the driveway of Paul's building.

Paul was taken to the hospital. His nose was set and his entire head was bandaged. His eyes blackened severely and swelled shut. His entire face swelled to twice its normal size with huge welted bruises. Naturally the police wanted to know what happened, but he told them to just forget it. It took about a month for him to look normal again. Once he healed completely, he began thinking about doing it again....