Mud Bowl by Ginny
I’d been with the firm a little over a year out of law school when Diane joined our office. She was one of those bright, eager, girls who’d excelled in college. At first, I had made an effort to befriend her, but it was quickly apparent that she had designs on my job. I felt I could handle a little professional rivalry since I was pretty cocky in those days. After a couple of months, however, I realized she was getting more of the “plum” assignments.
It didn’t take long for my girlfriends to get word to me of what was happening. Diane had started seeing Larry, our boss, after work. From the stories that were being circulated around the water cooler, some of the “dates” lasted all night. I considered myself pretty good-looking (brunette, 5’9″, 130 lb., 36D-24-33) and if I’d wanted to fight fire with fire, it wouldn’t have been the first time, if you know what I mean. But I wanted to get promoted on merit, not my back.
One morning, I went to see Larry and closed the office door so we could speak candidly. I asked him if the rumors about him and Diane were true. When he didn’t deny it, I asked how his involvement with Diane was going to affect my future with the firm and he made it clear that there was only going to be room for one woman in the office and that I’d be “considered” for that position “. . . when the time is right.”
He said he was planning an executive retreat for the next weekend that was supposed to show how well we could work as members of a team and he promised Diane and I would be placed on opposing teams. At the conclusion of the weekend, the executives would decide which of us was more deserving to remain. He swore his personal feelings toward Diane wouldn’t influence the decision.
His casual disregard for the two years of hard work I’d given the firm hit me hard. As I was leaving his office, I was brushing a tear from my eye. Just then, Diane came barging in without knocking. She looked at me and smirked, “What’s the matter Ginny, did Larry give you the bad news that after next weekend, you’re history?”
I burst out crying and rushed from his office. One of my friends who overheard the conversation told me that Diane had laughed about it with Larry after I left in tears.
I tried to avoid Larry and Diane for the rest of the week before the executive retreat, unsure of what to say. That didn’t seem to be a problem for Diane, however, she was bragging to all of her friends that not only was I out of the firm but that if I dared to show up at the retreat, she’d expose me as a “fraud.” If I had known what she was planning, I would have skipped the retreat and started my job search then and there.
Despite my nervous jitters, however, the first day of the retreat went well. The executives were divided into four teams for a mock case study. I was the head of one team and Diane another, with two of the younger men heading up other teams. The point of the exercise was for each team to arrive at agreements with each of the other three teams although each team was given conflicting information. For example, one team represented a company producing an item that another team needed to provide a product or service that a third team needed, etc.
The key to success was for each team to reach an agreement with all of the other teams to purchase and/or provide its’ product or service at a fair price. If one team failed to provide their part of the puzzle, all the teams lost. My initial assessment of the data showed that the product that my team was offering would be critical to Diane’s team. Perhaps somewhat vindictively, I resolved to make her pay dearly to get it. Our negotiations were bitter, and Diane resorted to personal attacks on me several times.
Finally, with the deadline approaching, her teammates forced Diane to meet our price. With that concession, our team earned enough points to finish first, Diane’s team came in third. My ear-to-ear grin during the review couldn’t have helped to cool Diane’s anger. That night, all of us partied late into the evening. There were few women for the men to dance with which only fueled Diane’s competitive juices. By my own count, I was asked to dance twice as many times as she was.
The next day, we had been instructed to dress casually as we would be outdoors in the heat and humidity all morning. Like most men, I wore shorts and a tee shirt. Diane, however, showed up in a lycra and spandex bodysuit, cut high at the thighs, and see-through jogging shorts. Her skin-tight outfit left little to the imagination and she was a sight to behold (5’4″, 118 lbs, 34C-22-33). There was no doubt in my mind that she had deliberately chosen the striking outfit to make me appear drab and dowdy in my shorts and T-shirt outfit.
It had rained the week before, and the area designated for a “capture the flag” game was slippery and extremely muddy. The game was designed to allow each member of the team to emphasize their strengths as a member of a group and minimize their weaknesses by cooperating with a complementary teammate. Each team would have one opportunity on defense and one as the attacker. My team lost the toss and started as the attacker. There were twelve people on each team, ten men and two women. The other woman on our team was Ellen, a chunky accountant in her mid-thirties. The other woman on Diane’s team was another twenty-five-year-old lawyer, who had belonged to the same college sorority as Diane.
When our team attacked, we split into four groups of three people each. Our plan was for the other teams to attack from three sides, drawing the defenders away, while my team crept up behind the hill with the flag on top and captured it. Our plan was working well until it came to the part where we had to climb the hill. The back of the slope was mostly mud, and slippery. Ellen was only able to climb slowly. Hal, the lone man with me, scrambled up the hill ahead of us and almost got the flag before he was spotted by the defenders.
The flag was being defended by four people, two men plus Diane and her friend. The two men tackled Hal and the three of them slid down the hill. Just as Ellen and I got to the top, the lawyer hit Ellen in the head with her elbow, knocking the poor woman out cold. For the next few minutes, as time ran on, the woman and Diane took turns pushing me around and trying to shove me back down the hill. Just before the whistle sounded signaling the end, there was a yell from the hilltop. Ellen had regained consciousness and crawled to the top and captured the flag.
Diane and her friend argued loudly about whose fault it was that Ellen had escaped capturing the flag. I was surprised at how angry Diane got over a simple game. When it became our turn to defend, I would find out just how angry she really was.
When her team planned their attack, Diane and the lawyer insisted that they be allowed to deal with Ellen and me, whatever the outcome of the game. The men could sense that Diane’s rivalry with me had become serious and was eagerly awaiting our confrontation. We kept two of our burliest men with us to guard the flag, not wanting to lose the advantage we’d gained by winning the previous round.
Ellen and I remained with the flag, hoping that Diane and the woman would try to get it. I saw Diane pointing at me, and yelling at her teammates to let her have me to herself, which was fine with me. I was bigger than she was, taller and slightly heavier, and I was confident of my ability to handle her one-on-one. When the attack came, their team didn’t try any tricky maneuvers, they smashed straight through our line and opened a hole for several of their teammates to race toward the flag.
When I saw that Diane was one of them, I picked her out for myself. She had the same idea. We met at the top of the hill and her momentum carried us over the edge. She landed on top of me and we rolled and slid all the way down the hill locked in each other's arms. At the bottom, the mud was several inches deep where we hit and I got a mouthful of the brown goo. As I coughed and sputtered, Diane stood up, grabbed my hair with both hands, and began shaking my head from side to side.
I managed to grab her hair myself and, as I struggled to regain my feet, we slipped and slid around in the mud, each holding the other’s hair. My scalp was starting to burn and I wanted to end the hair-pulling before she did any permanent damage. I stuck out my leg and tripped her, but she didn’t let go of my hair. She fell face-first into the mud, covering the front of her bodysuit with a layer of slippery brown muck.
My tee was already soaked and it clung to my stomach and back, the bra I had worn underneath was clearly visible through the wet cotton. I figured that I’d better find a way to get Diane out of my hair, so I let go of her hair and tried to punch her in the stomach. As long as she held my hair, however, with the slippery footing I could only swing wildly, missing each time. When she yanked on my hair, my feet flew out from under me and I fell hard. Despite the mud is soft, the fall knocked the breath out of me.
Before I recovered, Diane jumped on my stomach and began pummelling my face and head with her fists. Her blows didn’t pack much power, but they hurt and I kept my hands in front of my face to protect myself while I tried to figure out what to do next. Diane solved my problem for me. The dirty blonde grabbed the front of my tee-shirt and began to yank and twist, trying to tear the wet material.
I tried to retaliate, but the mud and the slippery material of her suit didn’t allow me to get a grip. When I heard the sound of cloth tearing, I began to thrash around wildly, terrified that she might rip my shirt off. I clutched the front of my shirt, pulling against her.
Fortunately, she only succeeded in ripping it down one of the seams before I could buck her off. We scrambled to our feet me trying to hold my shirt together until I could get away. As I turned to run, however, the sneaky ***** grabbed the waist of my shorts and yanked them down to my thighs.
A man who saw it told me later that my white ******* made a stark contrast to the brown mud that now covered us both from head to toe. I tried to run while pulling up my shorts with one hand, and holding my shirt together with the other. The weight of Diane, holding onto my shorts with both hands was too much to overcome, however. My shorts slid to my ankles, tripping me and I fell on my face trapping one hand beneath me.
Before I could get up, Diane leaped on top of me, pinning my arm under our combined weight. I was only able to use my free hand to rake her thigh once before she grabbed it and held it against my back. While holding my arm with one hand, the ***** grabbed a handful of my hair with the other and shoved my face into the mud. The ooze filled my nose and mouth, choking me. I realized that this was more than just a game to Diane and I panicked.
Fortunately, the mud covering my wrist and arm prevented her from holding it behind my back against my thrashing. I slipped free and managed to wiggle around until I turned on my side. Able to breathe again, I spit mud from my mouth and sucked air into my lungs. While I was catching my breath, the crazy blonde began to rake my chest with her hands, ripping my shirt still further. I managed to roll onto my back and get both of my hands-free to defend myself.
As I began to slap at her, Diane finished ripping away my tee-shirt, leaving me in just my bra and ******* with my ankles trapped by my shorts. By this time, the men from both teams had gathered around the mud pond to watch us. I wasn’t too happy about being turned into an object of their amusement, but clearly, Diane was loving every minute of it. I wanted to make her as uncomfortable as I was, so I tried again to grab her bodysuit, hoping to yank the front down and embarrass her into quitting the fight.
The wily blonde had chosen a good suit, however. The fabric was impossible to grasp due to its’ tight construction, and the slippery mud clinging to my hands only frustrated me. No matter what I tried, my fingers just slid across the surface of the cloth. The suit was too tight for me to get a grip anywhere. While I had been futilely trying to grab Diane’s suit, she had gotten a good hold on my bra and when she leaned back and tugged, my body lifted right out of the mud.
At least it started to. Just as I realized what she was up to, the hooks on the back of my bra gave way and Diane tumbled backward into the mud, taking my bra with her. I remember screaming and trying to cover my breasts with both hands. I know that I rolled over and tried to bury myself in the mud in shame. While I lay there mortified, Diane was up and dancing around showing everyone my bra.
I like to think that I’ve got a good figure. Hell, I do have a good figure, but I’ve always been self-conscious of my large breasts. Diane didn’t need any padding either and with her tight bodysuit, it was obvious that she had plenty “there.” She made a point of waving my bra at everyone before she returned for the final humiliation.
At this point, mind you, I thought that she already had done more than enough, but the cruel ***** didn’t just want to humiliate me, she was intent on embarrassing me so badly that I could never function effectively in the firm. She returned to where I lay sobbing face down in the mud, trying to hide my bare breasts with both hands. Stepping across me, she sat down hard on my back. I’m afraid I let out a very unladylike grunt at that moment.
When she started to tear at my *******, I lost it entirely. I thrashed and flailed with both hands, screaming and pleading for mercy, but to no avail. She had no difficulty in tearing the seat out of the thin cotton ******* and exposing my lovely ass cheeks to everyone’s gaze. Then, the ultimate embarrassment; she began to spank me on my bare bottom. I’m sure it was fiery red by the time she finished, it certainly felt like it, anyway. I was crying uncontrollably, both in frustration and pain, when she stopped. She took two handfuls of mud and wiped them across my burning ass. “That should help to cool you off, Ginny dear,” she said laughing.
She and her team went to the top of the hill and celebrated with the flag they had captured, while most of my teammates turned away in embarrassment. I was only able to get up after a couple of men lent me their tee shirts and Ellen helped me get my shorts back up.
I ran back to the dormitory and dressed without showering. By the time the others had returned, I was already driving back to town. I never returned to work. I let Diane have the job she had fought so hard for, rather than return to face the snide remarks of the coworkers who had seen me humiliated.
About a week later, I got a job offer from an out-of-town firm in the same line of work. One of my friends in the firm had called an old college buddy of hers and recommended me highly and he hired me sight-unseen. I’ve been promoted several times and, looking back on it, what happened to me wasn’t that bad. The embarrassment hurt for a while, but like the spanking pain, it faded with time. I’m a tougher person today thanks to Diane.
Speaking of Diane, she and Larry got married later that year. She worked for the company for a year before leaving to start a family. When Larry was arrested in a police prostitution sting, she divorced him and took most of his money in the settlement.
I think about that ***** every so often. Especially when it rains. I hope to bump into her in a muddy field one day and settle an old score. One more thing. Now, I wear a lycra and spandex bodysuit under my business suit, just in case!