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A Cliché

By: goodhands_4u



You come to my office after class, wearing your plaid skirt and white blouse, like a Catholic school girl, only this isn't a Catholic college, making what you're wearing that much hotter.

"Mr. H, I really want to get an A in your class," you say, getting right to the point.

"I'm sure you're close to one, Alli. Just write the last paper as well as your others."

"That's the problem, I really have to study hard for my trig class just to get by. So there's no way this paper will be as good."

"You could always take and incomplete and turn it in later," I suggest, trying to be helpful and professional with those smooth thighs at eyes level as I sit in my office chair.

"Let me show you something," you say, turning away from me. You bend over, giving me a wonderful view farther up your thighs as you rummage through your book bag. I can almost see your panties. 

You straighten up, turn around, did your eyes just linger on my stiffening cock? Can you tell?

You hand me a brochure.

"As soon as the semester's over, I'm leaving for this program in London," you say.

"Very impressive."

"So I don't have time for any of that. Isn't there anyway at all that you could help me?"

"Hmmm, I suppose I could think it over and see what I can come up with."

"Great, when will you let me know?"

Knowing that you've seen where I live because a friend of yours lives in the same apartment complex, I say, "You could swing by this weekend if you're around Emily's and see if I have any ideas."

You smile knowing that I heard your hint loud and clear.

"Great, I'll do that. Thank you so much Mr. H."

I keep my seat and watch as you bend over to replace the brochure. As you swing the bag onto your shoulder, I stand and move close to you. Very low, so that no one passing by can hear, "And wear what you have on today."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You're in my Tuesday-Thursday Literary Heritage class, so two days later is Saturday. I've spent those two days thinking over how you can get you're a without doing the final paper. When you knock, I'm prepared.

I open the door to find you standing there in your Catholic schoolgirl get-up just as I asked. You follow directions well. This is a good thing. You look a bit nervous. When I say hello, you smile shyly.

"I've decided that you can have your A without doing the paper if you will do whatever I say until I say that you can go."

You suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Not so sure since you made the proposition two days ago? Didn't think I'd take you up on it?

"The choice is yours, Alli," I continue, step inside, do as you're told, and get the A or leave now write the paper and earn you're A in the customary fashion with no hard feelengs."

I step back to allow you inside, but I'm sure you're going to bolt. You look me in the eye for a moment and step inside. Surprising and, again, impressive.

Closing the door, I say, "Stand here," pointing to a spot on the floor about three feet from the wall. 

You step onto the spot.

"Face the wall." I stand beside you. "Like I said before, Alli, you do whatever I say, when I say to do it. You don't speak unless I ask you a question. Understand?"

You nod your head.

"Answer me." Although it's like you're standing at attention, my voice is not that of drill sergeant, but rather that of your caring teacher giving you instructions.

"Yes, Mr. H," you answer.

"Good girl, but there is one exception, you may moan as much as you want. Now, place your hands on the wall."

You do as you're told, having to bend a little. 

I move behind you and finger the hem of your skirt.

"Did you realize that you have flashed me three separate peeks at your panties in class this semester?"

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. You sure it was an accident?"

"Yes."

"Is that the truth."

"Yes…I didn't mean too, but I have dreamed of doing that."

"Well, let's see what sexy panties you're wearing today." I push your skirt up around your waist, revealing a pair of pink, silk, French-cut panties. "Very nice," I say.

"Thank you."

"But I don't think we'll be needing them." I kneel down behind you and slide your panties slowly down your smooth legs, seeing your gorgeous ass up close and naked for the first time.

I rise with your panties in my hand. "Very nice, indeed," I say after a sniff. I hold them to your nose. "Don't you think so?"

You sniff tentatively, "Yes."

I drop them to the floor and run a hand up and down your arched back, lightly. My other goes to your butt, exploring all over your bottom. It begins at the top of your and follows the curve down, then squeezes a cheek, then deeper between your legs, feeling your slit. All ready a hint of dampness. Tickling your short pubic hairs. My hand moves upward, giving your pussy a long slow stroke, then a finger trails between your cheeks as my hand continues up your butt. Then I rub all around both cheeks, mixing in a few squeezes, before returning to your pussy. Once you are nice and wet and horny I have you turn around.

I kiss you hard, pressing your back against the wall, you feel my dick getting hard and my hands on your breasts.

Then I step back and tell you to take off your skirt. I think you'd be very sexy with just a shirt on, nothing else, unbuttoned low.

When you're dressed the way I want you, I take the back of your hair in my hand and pull your head back, run my tongue up and down your neck, as my other hand caresses your now naked breasts. Then I kiss you hard and deep just as my hand drops from your breast to your pussy. You're good and wet so my finger slips right in. I use the back of your hair to guide your head the way that I want it to go during our long kiss.

We stand there, you pressed against the wall, me pressed against you, kissing, with my fingers working in and out of your pussy and rubbing your clit until you cum, moaning into my mouth, our tongues still intertwined. 

I break the kiss, "Did you like that?"

You mumble something that sounds positive as you try to catch your breath.

Then I tell you to undress me. 

You rub your hands over my chest as you unbutton and remove my shirt. You kneel down and undo my pants, unable to help rubbing the bulge as you try to concentrate on your task. Finally, you slide my pants and boxers down and I step out of them. 

You reach for my cock wanting it in your mouth, but I stop you and make you stand up.

"Don't you want me to...suck you?" you say.

"You're used to college boys, aren't you? But what was the rule?"

"Don't speak." 

"I want to taste you," I say. "Get me a taste with your fingers."

You do as you're told, slipping a finger in your still wet pussy and then sliding it in my mouth. 

I suck your juice from it.

I kiss you again, this time you feel my naked dick against your belly, as you taste your pussy on my tongue.

"Come," I lead you to the bedroom, to the foot of my bed. "Get up there on your knees, facing the wall." Your feet are at the foot of the bed and you automatically go down on your hands as well. Is this a hint that you like it doggy style?

"No, just on your knees, raise up."

You do.

I nudge your knees apart a bit more, getting you in the position I want. I step back and look at you. Just as I thought, your ass looks wonderful peeking out from the tail of your shirt, the muscles slightly taut from the position.

I raise the tail of your shirt a little as I bend over and run my tongue up the length of your butt. You almost lose your balance, but you catch yourself. Was that from surprise or from pleasure?

Then I move to the head of the bed and get on in front of you. I lean down and take a nipple in my mouth, but for only a second. I kiss you again.

Breaking the kiss, I move back and turn around. I lay down, my head going between your legs. I take your hips in my hands and pull your sweet pussy down to my face. I lap all around your dripping cunt, your inner thighs, your cheeks, outer lips, every place my tongue can reach before it darts between your pussy lips.

My hands caress your stomach, moving up your body to your breast. After I play with them for a bit, I squeeze them tighter I pull out and down. Your body follows and we're in a 69.

To be continued. . . maybe

A Clichéd Love Story



Will Harker was man enough to know that he didn't know much.

What he did know was that Kassandra Troy was a bitch, and he hated her guts. 

They'd met just six months ago; they were martial artists from the same style, but different dojos. Kassandra and Will had risen in the ranks through dojos (places of learning) at the opposite ends of town. When Kassandra moved out on her own, she switched dojos, planting herself firmly, and inconveniently, in his life. 

They were both level one black-belts and both highly commended by the Kentokukan Karate school's higher authorities. While Will was praised for his discipline and grace in demonstrations and fighting alike, Kassandra's fiery temper and a capacity for brutality that made her one hell of a fighter. 

"These demonstrations, or katas, as you call them, are useless," she'd say when the higher ranks would meet to discuss the novices' curriculum, "I'm a single woman living in Montreal . . . like a lot of the new students. These things will get them nowhere. We should focus more on fighting and self defense and less on these useless activities"

"Those useless activities teach discipline and grace. Your response only reveals what an animal you are!"

It was an insult that fit in fact, but not appearances. Will had only ever seen Kassandra in the bulky tunic and trousers of their martial arts school. Her features were such that her ethnicity was impossible to determine. On some days she looked Caucasian, on others she looked Asian, and others still she could pass for Native American, Polynesian, or Latina. She was skinny as a toothpick, wore thick glasses anyone would find hideous, and her long dark hair was always brutally tied to the back of her head. 

"Just hope you never find out what kind of animal I am," she said slowly. 

It was her eyes that gave her away. Behind her glasses, they were dark, cold, and watchful. They were the eyes of someone comfortable with violence; someone who could command it to work to their advantage. The overall effect was a cross between a schoolmarm and a serial killer; a combination unappealing enough to make hating her all the easier.

"You're a barbarian! What kind of a woman are you...if you are a woman?"

"That's enough!" The fight had ended due to Janus, their instructor's brutal interruption.

Will Harker's behavior had been exemplary for the five years Janus had known him, but since the day young Kassandra had walked in and announced that she would like to train with them, the two of them had been at each other's throats. 

When Harker was leading warm-ups, Kassandra was grumbling and cursing his harsh discipline and regimented silence. While Kassandra was cracking jokes during some of the harsher exercises, Harker stood and seethed. When Janus put them together to train, they did so in silence, their eyes shooting darts at each other with a tension that every other student in the room could all but feel. Occasionally, during choreographed fight routines, one of their arms or legs would 'slip,' planting a firm blow in faces, stomachs, and in poor Harker's case, his groin. If one of them made a mistake, the other took the liberty of pointing it out, and that always resulted in a fight.

"There's something about one that seems to bring out the worst in the other," one brown belt said to another over a beer.

"Any clue how many push ups they've gotten for all the fighting they've done?"

"By my count, let's see . . . two classes a week . . . ten push ups for every offense . . . the session started three weeks ago . . . I'd say at least two hundred"

"Sounds like love to me."

"You're a hopeless romantic, Alice."

"And you are full of crap, Raph, if I were a romantic, I wouldn't pay some sadist to boss me around, exercise me and make me beat people up."

"Whatever you say . . . more beer?"

"Now you're talking."

The teachers of the Karate school were big believers in the concept of work hard, train hard, and play hard. Everyone had lives outside the school, but friendships in the otherwise austere dojo inevitably formed. People were always heading out for drinks, or movies or a meal, but you never saw Will and Kassandra at these events. When the class wanted to go out for drinks, one of them always had an excuse. It was as if they'd negotiated social time with the rest of the group in such a way as never to have deal with one another. It was an arrangement that suited them, but not the rest of the class. Half found their fights hilarious, and the other half found their fights distracting and hoped that all the penalties they got would eventually teach them to get along, or at least get them to switch martial arts schools. 

Alas, the two had strong personalities and were stubborn as mules. Neither of them was going anywhere...and everyone suffered because of it, particularly the two parties involved.

***

In every respect, Will Harker was a tight ass. 

In her youth, Kassandra had gone to a private school, and in the number of times she'd almost been expelled it had always been because of fault finding sticks in the mud like William Harker. He was one of those people who took himself too seriously. One of those guys who came into martial arts with the hope of regaining some sort of lost warrior spirit urban society and professional armies had taken away. The man was a tax attorney for God's sakes! He strutted about like some science fiction barbarian talking about discipline and obscure Asian philosophers hoping to convert the masses.

"You have no discipline! You have no honor! You have no control! How in the hell did you make it to the upper ranks?"

"Oh, that's easy, William Harker, by acting as a welcome contrast to dicks like you!"

"Oh that's really mature! Name calling! Another reason why you are unfit to wear that belt!"

Kassandra's reply had something to do with a biologically impossible act involving his ass, her foot, and the taste of shoe polish. The fighting continued, and they simply threw themselves onto their stomachs and took their push ups; Kassandra huffing and cursing, and Will in his usual brooding silence. Kassandra was a pragmatist at heart. 

While Will bitched and moaned about honor and warrior codes, her logic was a little different. As far as she was concerned, she was paying for the teaching, and because she was paying them, they owed her a certain amount of respect. She rejected the spineless 'Lick the Ground the Teachers Walk On' policy of one Lenny May Bono, a fellow black belt who'd been promoted for her submissive cowardice. She rejected Will's warrior like stoicism. As far as Kassandra was concerned, the best policy was to follow the rules but don't alter your personality or jump through hoops, and it suited her just fine. She worked; she went to class, fought in tournaments, showered, masturbated and slept; in her free time, she picked fights with Will. She'd made a hobby of baiting anal retentive prudes like him. 

Will's appearance was a shocking contrast to his anal retentive personality. He was about six feet in height, and muscled. His face exuded a sort of boyish charm; clean shaven, with nice lips, large, intense blue eyes with heavy lashes, a strong jaw and high cheekbones. His hair was dirty blondish, and cropped stylishly close to his head. 

A woman would have to be dead not to appreciate him for the fine piece of ass that he was. Fortunately his personality was the biggest turn off of them all. She was convinced that if the man ever got laid it's because he knew to keep his mouth shut. In the month she'd known him, the only thing that kept her from planting her fist in his face was an obscene amount of self control.

Of course their face off was inevitable, and her self control, while powerful, was not infinite. Until six weeks into the session, they managed to avoid each other with a skill spies would find commendable . . . but they couldn't avoid each other forever. 

Then their Martial Arts instructor dropped a bomb. Kassandra, Will, and a few other students were asked to represent the school in a big tournament in New York City. 

"Of course, your invitation is conditional on your getting along. Don't embarrass your team mates, your city, and your country by going to war in front of everybody. You break into ANY fighting outside the ring, and I will personally drag you out of there by the hair . . . Do you understand?"

They sent sideways glares at one another and nodded. Both loved the sport, and were too stubborn to turn down the opportunity. Cold civility seemed to be the only solution... and it was going to work out fine . . .

Or it would have, until Kassandra's subconscious decided to have a little fun with her the night before the trip. 

In her dreams she had sex. 

Wild, hot, sweaty sex 

. . . With Will Harker.

She woke up, flushed, her chest heaving, her body wet and aching with the need for sex.

Kassandra dismissed it as the result of a year's celibacy. It was official: she needed to get laid, and soon . . . before she started hallucinating! Apparently all the fighting she did wasn't enough to satisfy baser needs. Any chance of her getting to sleep was officially shot to hell, so she did ten push ups and busied herself with work.

***

It was a typical spring morning in Montreal; freezing cold, and snowy. At the edge of every sidewalk were knee-deep puddles of sludge that even the most expensive boots couldn't save you from. No matter which sidewalk you stood on, no matter how well you hid, a busy motorist would find you and skim the curb, splashing the wet, icy mess across your legs.

Only in Montreal, Harker thought grimly, were there three seasons, autumn, winter, and construction. He was tired, but alert, and as usual, he was the first to arrive. Next to show up at the bus station was a wreck in a ski jacket, a bulky hoodie, and torn jeans. The equipment she carried, along with the severe pony tail and ugly glasses identified her instantly. 

"Rough night?" 

He figured being sociable was the first step to making peace, and making peace would make this trip all the smoother.

"Screw you, Harker!" 

Well, he thought, so much for that. Dumping her bags on the floor, Kassandra reached into the pouch of her hoodie and pulled out a candy bar. 

"Those things will make you fat, y'know."

"What part of 'screw you' did you not understand?" she asked, focusing her serial killer eyes on him with more than a little irritation. Black eyes stared into blue for several seconds before she turned back to her chocolate bar.

"I was trying to make peace with you. You know; try and get to know you better, figure out why the hell we fight all the time?"

She glared at him again. "Do you want to know why we fight all the time? You're an anal retentive pain in the ass with no sense of humor. You want to get through this trip in one piece? Avoid me like the plague, I'll avoid you, and nary will the two meet!"

"Sounds fantastic," he said succinctly. She didn't want to be friends? No problem. He had better things to do than trying to warm up to an ugly, cold-hearted bitch.

The bus ride went smoothly. He sat at the front of the bus. She sat at the back. Harker read a book and Kassandra joked with the lower ranks. They arrived in New York at five p.m., exactly on schedule. They ended up with decent roommates; Kassandra with Alice, and Harker with Raph. 

Things were going to be just fine... if some idiot hadn't booked them across from each other. 

"There's a hallway and two doors between you, what the hell's the problem?" Alice demanded.

"The problem, Alice, is that I don't want to have to explain myself to that Klingon across the hall if I decide to go out for a drink or something before the tournament. Do you really want to have to sit through two hours of holier than thou bullshit?"

"You're being paranoid," Alice said dismissively.

"Maybe."

"So we avoid him."

"If he were down the hall, maybe, but the man's a nitpicker, a fault finder. I wouldn't be surprised if he were keeping his eye on us right now, just so he could report that we dared to go out the night before a tournament!"

It was ridiculous, but for Kassandra's peace of mind, Alice peeked out the door. 

"The coast is clear. Wanna go down to the bar for a drink?"

"Are you of legal drinking age?"

"Do you care?"

Kassandra's lips curved. She and Alice were going to get along just fine.

"Let me take a cat nap and freshen up. Drinks are on me."

***

The hotel bar was like any other; populated by a combination of hard drinkers, Casanova wannabes, and middle-aged people dancing the cha cha. Harker had been nursing his whiskey for the past hour. He'd gone through the motions of unpacking, meditating, and then going for a walk. He tried reading, and then sleeping, and failed. So there he was, in the bar, betraying his own principles about no booze, no bullshit before the tournament, and all because he couldn't sleep.

The first thing he noticed was her legs; long, slim, infinite, with just the slightest hint of muscle. They were encased in calf-length leather boots, above which was an expanse of smooth gold skin that disappeared into a short black skirt. Above a flat stomach was a pair nice sized breasts in a tight black T-shirt and her hair was a rich dark brown that fell like liquid silk between her shoulder blades. Age wise, he placed her anywhere between sixteen and twenty-five, but there was something about the way she moved that suggested she might be older. She walked toward the bar with graceful, purposeful strides and ordered a shot of vodka and an Amaretto sour.

"ID please."

Something about the way the woman looked at the bartender had the old man taking a step back. She reached into her purse, pulled out her ID, and to Will's surprise, flipped him off with it. The bartender put her drinks on the counter and she tossed the vodka back. Before she could pay the man, Will found himself stepping forward offering to buy them for her. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he could have sworn he saw shock before it was replaced with irritation.

"I can pay for myself, thanks." 

As she shoved his hand aside and put her money on the table, her companion arrived, a short, curvy young redhead in a tank top and jeans.

"This looks great, thanks," the girl said, picking up her drink, "What is it?"

"Amaretto sour."

He recognized Alice immediately, and in stunned silence, he took a second look at her friend. For the first time, the woman turned to face him; there was no mistaking the serial killer eyes, all the more intense without her glasses. He wanted to start yelling at her; he had no idea why.

Kassandra had no idea what the hell was wrong with him. One second ago he was hitting on her, and now the man was catatonic. It occurred to her that this was the first time he'd seen her in street clothes with her hair down and glasses off, and was only now realizing who she was. Then she shook herself back to reality. Harker would have to be a bigger stereotype than she'd initially thought. Whatever the reason for his behavior, she couldn't bring herself to leave him comatose like that. 

So she did what she did best. 

She slapped him. 

Harker reeled, not from the blow, but from the shock. 

"Was that necessary?" Alice asked.

Kassandra pursed her full red lips, and Harker turned silently back on his stool and took a large gulp of his drink.

"It got him to leave us alone didn't it?"

He had concluded a long time ago that she wasn't pretty enough to look at. Looking at her without the bulky tunic, schoolmarm's hairdo, and the ugly glasses, Kassandra's serial killer eyes weren't hideous; they were sexy. Dressed in decent clothes she didn't look gawky or skinny. She looked good enough to eat. It was disarming, to say the least. 

Harker took another gulp as he found himself imagining her naked. It was all well and good when he didn't know who she was, but now the hallway between their two rooms looked a lot smaller. What would happen, he wondered, if he showed up and put the moves on her? Then he brushed the thought aside. It was ridiculous! He didn't even like her! He needed to step back, and re-examine the situation.

He risked another glance at her out of the corner of his eye. She was laughing at something Alice was telling her, and the smile transformed her face, bringing color to her cheeks. He watched a tall suit approach and offer to buy her a second drink, and felt an uncomfortable twinge he refused to call jealousy.

As Kassandra put the man in his place with a few sharp words, Will found himself smiling into his empty glass. As the suit turned away, he smiled wider . . . until he realized she was watching him.

Their gazes locked, and for a fraction of a second, there was no contempt or hatred in either of them. Whatever was in their eyes, it was just as primal as hatred, but infinitely more annoying. Then, from the other end of the bar she smiled at him; a cocky; go to hell smile that had him turning away instantly to try to shake off whatever the hell he was feeling.

Since when, he wondered, was he afraid of her? It didn't matter. Kassandra tossed back another shot of vodka, and then she and Alice left the bar. As they were leaving, the bartender put another glass of whiskey in front of him.

"I didn't order that."

"The lady sent it over...she said you needed it."

He stared down at the drink and then at Kassandra's retreating back; he knew instantly he was in a lot of trouble. 

***

It was a beautiful morning for a tournament. Warm, ugly, and just rainy enough to make a day indoors seem like heaven. Everything went routinely. They woke up at seven a.m., packed their gear, and headed to the massive gym where the event was held. There was registration, followed by floor cleaning, meditation, and then a strenuous warm up.

"Remember to do your best. The judges are looking for good technique; do what you can and make us proud." 

With a lot of ceremony, the contest began. Level after level showed their skills at presenting various Karate techniques to a series of stony faced black belts with clip boards. The first part of the contest lasted all morning and while Harker and a handful of brown and green belts competed, Kassandra sat beside sensei Janus, attempting to hide her boredom. She watched Will's demonstration; the man's movements were smooth and sharp, and belatedly, she found herself remembering the dream.

"Alice...Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Slap me."

The girl stared at her friend for a full minute, and then complied. The slap stung Kassandra's cheek and jarred her back to reality. She was here to fight, nothing more, nothing less. Attractive blondes with tight butts and piss-poor personalities were the least of her worries.

She drank her lunch, a heavy, spicy, tomato flavored vegetable shake, then stretched and warmed up. Push ups, sit ups, jumping jacks, and then stretch kicks.

Her muscles limber, Kassandra prepared herself for a fight. She imagined every person she'd ever hated and everything she'd wanted to do to them. Every opponent she would face that day became someone she'd been itching to have a crack at since the day she'd won her first fight.

"Can someone help with my body armor?"

She looked down the ranks. Alice was busy with Raph; some of the others were meditating, or talking, or something else. She noticed one of the green belts sitting by herself but before she could approach the girl, Harker stepped forward, his own breastplate under his arm. A glare from her instructor said turning him down was not an option.

With every attempt at civility, they faced one another, bowed and knelt. Kneeling, they bowed again, and Kassandra picked up the heavy fiberglass breast plate and shoved it onto herself while Will stepped behind her to fasten the straps.




A Clichéd Love Story



She was in the same hideous glasses, and the uniform did nothing for her, but he couldn't get the woman of last night out of his mind. As he fastened her buckles, he began to draw parallels between the fantasy of last night and the woman in front of him now; the long limbs, flawless skin, and full lips. As he went through the motions of tightening the straps of the armor, he indulged himself by tracing the length of her spine between them.

"Do that again, and I'll break your legs," she said slowly. 

Moving in front of her, he knelt, while she moved behind him and with a brisk and brutal hand, helped him with his padding. She refused to admire the breadth of his shoulders or the way he smelled. Formal as ever, they bowed, got to their feet and bowed again. 

"Don't get yourself killed," was all he said, and then he smiled slightly, his blue eyes twinkling. She wondered briefly if he was flirting, and then dismissed it. She had better things to do.

With a lot of ceremony, the fights began. 

With powerful legs and arms Kassandra cut down one after another. She never remembered the details of a fight; for some reason her conscious mind shut off and all she saw were openings, breaches in her opponents' guard. All she heard was the blood beating in her ears and the sound of her own heavy breathing through the thick plastic of her helmet. 

By the end of the day, she'd torn her knuckles open on her left hand, and the two she used for punching were severely bruised. Her arms and legs ached, and one of her toes wasn't bending properly, but she'd made it to the semi finals, and that was enough. She was exhausted. For the first time in two days, the only thing she was fantasizing about was sleep. 

Kassandra was one of those people who knew her strengths, and one of them happened to be an unnatural knack for avoiding people. She made it back to the hotel without having to deal with Harker or anyone else. She declined Alice's invite to a Broadway show, citing exhaustion and sore muscles and stepped into a hot shower. Twenty minutes of privacy under the steaming spray softened her skin and made her feel almost human again. It also enhanced every one of her aches, making her dream of ice and a professional massage. Stepping out of the shower, she smoothed moisturizer into her skin and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top. 

Room service, a bucket of ice, and a movie sounded like heaven. To her relief, the hallway was clear. Bucket in hand she made her way to the ice machine. 

At that same moment, Harker was stepping out of his room. He didn't feel like spending another night cooped up by himself and figured he'd see if there was a Jazz club or something in the area. 

The woman in front of the ice machine stopped him dead in his tracks. The tank top she wore exposed the smooth expanse of her back, and wouldn't accommodate a bra. Her flimsy plaid boxers revealed long, gorgeous legs and an ass so beautiful he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from touching it. Harker's hands fisted as he felt his jeans get painfully tight. He didn't have to talk to her, he told himself. He could ignore her, but try as he might, he couldn't move his legs.

"How are your knuckles?" he asked.

Kassandra's spine stiffened, and with a sigh, she realized she was too tired to pick a fight. 

"They feel like they've been run over a cheese grater," she said with her back to him.

"Hit the helmets a lot?"

"It wins points and it's not the first time," she said over her shoulder.

"You know . . . I watched you fight . . . you're quite good." Hard and brutal, but there was a grace to her movements she probably wasn't aware of. 

Kassandra turned and raised her brows. "A compliment? From you? Are you feeling ok?"

"I can't give you a compliment?"

"You hate my guts."

"Point taken," he said with a nod, "though I'm not so sure about that anymore . . . "

"Well I am," she said, picking up the bucket, "I still don't like you"

"Why?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned back to him.

"You take yourself too seriously. Isn't it exhausting to frown and nitpick all day?"

"Never," he said with mock outrage, and then he added hastily, "I don't do it all day. The guy you see in class isn't the real, every day me."

Kassandra arched a brow. "I suppose the second you change out of uniform you become the friendly, easy-going guy everyone likes, is that it? You're going to have to do better than that, Harker, if you want my friendship," she said dismissively. Before tonight he'd never noticed the way she spoke; elegant and precise, like the dialogue in an old English novel.

"How can I do better when you've never given me a chance?" the anger was up. It was much more familiar than the arousal.

"You're a hypocrite, Harker!" she spat. "You can't possibly expect me to extend a courtesy that you wouldn't deign to extend to me."

"You're right," he conceded, to her obvious shock. "How about we start fresh? Let's get to know each other not as martial artists, but as garden variety people. Who knows? We might even like each other."

He expected her to answer with that same cold derision, but to his surprise, she put down her bucket and bust out laughing.

"Sure!" she said doubling over, "...when pigs fly! And the Beatles get back together! And Jimmy Hoffa comes out of hiding! Hell Harker! I didn't know you were capable of joking!"

Her laugh was infectious, and despite the fact that she was doing it at his expense, he found himself fighting a grin. "I'm serious," he said at last. 

"I know," she replied on a calming breath, "...but I don't think it's a good idea. I don't want any trouble. I'm too fucking tired and I don't owe you anything, so why don't you find a dark corner to meditate in, and I'll bid you goodnight."

Harker grabbed her arm.

"For every time you've accidentally kicked me in the crotch during training, I'd say the least you owe me is a drink."

Kassandra glared at him, and suddenly realized she was in the mood to fight after all.

"I'd say that for every time you've lectured me about inappropriate behavior in the dojo, I'd say we're even. Go to hell, Harker!"

She tried to run off again but his grip on her arm held firm.

"Didn't your mother teach you any warrior's discipline?"

Kassandra laughed. "You colossal moron, do you even know what part of Asia my mother is from? Well I'll tell you. It's not Japan; my mother's people hate the Japanese, Karate included, for what they did to her family during the war. She's notorious for holding grudges!"

"Apparently so are you."

"She's pissed at me for taking up this martial art," Kassandra continued, "and she's pissed at me for being in New York, with you, getting the shit kicked out of me in the hope of winning some trophy!"

"Then why are you here?"

"Travels, thrills, excitement, and more importantly, to fight."

"You are no fighter!" he spat, though they both knew it wasn't true.

"Fine! You're an asshole!"

Neither knew how much longer the shouting went on, nor for that matter, were they entirely sure who moved first. All Kassandra knew was that one minute they were yelling at each other, and the next minute, she was up against the wall, with Harker's mouth fused to hers. 

She dropped the bucket and raised her arms, but she wasn't entirely sure what to do with them. She was going to push him away, she had to push him away, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. His lips were soft but firm and as she stood there, nearly numb from a combination of shock and arousal, his body pressed against her and she moaned helplessly. His hands were on her face now, tilting her head to give him better access.

Her lips parted of their own accord, and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth. He tasted clean, as though he'd just brushed his teeth, and suddenly she was kissing him back, her tongue meeting his, her teeth sinking into his lower lip. She knew what to do with her arms now, and as every inch of that hard muscled body pressed her more firmly into the wall, they wrapped themselves around his broad back and held on for dear life. Her hands fisted in his shirt, and as she felt his erection press against her, she gasped and sucked on his tongue. 

His hands were in her hair now, wrapping the silky strands around his fingers. He'd expected Kassandra to be sour, acidic even, but to his surprise, she was sweet, and tasted every bit as good as she looked. He couldn't get enough. She went still with shock when their lips met, and then she stiffened, and just as quickly she kissed him back, her kiss as fierce and maddening as when she fought. Just as suddenly she moved, rolling him so he was against the wall and her soft strong body pressed tightly against him, her breasts flattening themselves against his chest. As her busy hands moved over his chest and down his stomach, he fell backward, propelling her toward the door of her room. There was only one thing on his mind, and as she tilted her hips forward and smiled knowingly against his lips, he knew she wanted it just as badly. 

They were interrupted by the sound of giggles, and someone clearing their throat. Kassandra and Will, turned their heads their arms still locked to one another. It was Alice, Raph, and five other brown and green belts, all standing stock still, grinning from ear to ear. 

As there was no real way to explain it, Kassandra took up the most rational course of action, and with both hands on the wall, thrust a hard and willing Harker away from her. Doing her damndest to calm her breathing, she cleared her throat and tried for nonchalance. 

"I thought you guys were going to a show."

"It doesn't start for another hour, and the theater's not far from here. We were hoping the two of you would change your minds."

Kassandra feigned a yawn and picked up her bucket. 

"Thanks but no thanks, I'm exhausted. Can I take a rain check?"

Harker could see them biting back smiles as the group looked from him to Kassandra, and shrugged. To the relief of both, the crowd quickly dispersed and they were spared the embarrassment. 

He turned back to Kassandra but she had already filled her bucket and was making a beeline for her room. Harker knew he should do the same but his heart rate was up, and he could still taste her. She wasn't going to avoid him now, he decided. He wanted her too badly. With a fast hand, Harker caught her by the seat of her shorts. She stilled, and with one move, spun around, shoving him away with a single back kick. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and her hair fell over her shoulder as she glared at him, breathing heavily. 

"I'm not your type," she said simply. 

"Judging from two minutes ago, I beg to differ."

Kassandra swallowed slowly. If she was nervous, it didn't reach her eyes.

"Beg all you want, Harker," she said, running a fingertip over his chest. "As tempting as it sounds, it's not going to happen. I have a tournament to finish. I need ice, food, and sleep, nothing more!"

She turned to open her door, but Harker didn't give up easily . . . not when it came to women. It was more than a little irritating to realize that he finally saw her as one.

"You seem really stressed. You haven't had sex in a while, have you?" he asked with a grin.

With one hand on the doorknob, she turned back to him and glared. "I have no interest in sleeping with you."

"You're very interested," he corrected.

He saw her narrow fingers tighten on the doorknob. Her face colored, and her next words were spoken through gritted teeth. "You want me to admit that I want you? Fine! Dogs and cats fuck all the time; they don't have to like each other. Too bad for you I'm not a dog or a cat. Goodnight Harker, and good luck tomorrow."

"This isn't over Troy . . . "

"Oh it is," she said slowly, and before he could answer, she'd slammed the door in his face.

"The tournament ends tomorrow," he said softly, staring at her door, "after that, you're fair game; good luck getting to sleep, Kassandra," and with that, he went back to his room.

***

"So what do you think?" Raph asked as he and Alice attacked the burger and fries they'd dubbed their dinner.

"Well," she replied, pondering a French fry, "Would it be immature of me to say I told you so?"

"Yes." 

"Oh, well, I told you so," Alice smiled.

"How long before they're fucking?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"I give them two weeks." 

"Two weeks? You think too highly of them. I give them two days, max."

"For how much?"

Raph checked his wallet and frowned. "Ten bucks?"

"Make it twenty."

Raph stared at her proffered hand and shrugged. He knew Harker. The man was as determined as he was stubborn, and he had every bit of faith in Kassandra's involuntary charms. She was hot headed and stubborn; the kind of behavior that would only egg him on. Despite all their fights, he agreed with Alice that Will and Kassandra were too similar for their own good. The only way to put a stop to their blood feud was by giving them a push in the right direction, straight into each other's arms. With a knowing grin, Raph picked up his soda and toasted her with it.

"You're on," he said.

***

And while Raph and Alice were debating how long it would take their friends to jump each other, Harker was thinking strategy. He wanted Kassandra out of his system, and that meant getting her into bed, or on the floor, or a couch, or in the back seat of a car. Despite her sniping denials, she wanted him; he was experienced enough to know that. All he had to do was convince her to act on it. It wasn't going to be easy, he thought with a frown. He knew Kassandra was just as stubborn as he was, which meant she'd put up a hell of a fight. 

I'll get her, he promised himself, and then everything will go back to normal. Feeling much better, Harker took a cold shower and slept.

***

The next day, Kassandra was angry and ready for battle. The ointment she'd smeared on her knuckles had taken care of the pain, and a cold shower had temporarily killed the arousal. She'd slept hard and dreamed vividly, reliving that fantasy over and over until she woke up frustrated and irritable. She knew she'd be fine once she entered the ring. There was nothing that took the edge off a strong emotion than pummeling your fists into someone's face. She successfully avoided him at breakfast, and managed to steer clear of him during the morning's proceedings. Harker fought his fights, Kassandra fought hers, and as she made her way into the finals, she congratulated herself for successfully avoiding him. There was a lunch break before the final matches, and she sat herself down in a corner of the room. She was just cracking her shake open when someone stepped in front of her.

She looked up and saw the man she'd beaten in her last fight. He was short, and Asian, with a shaved head and face that vaguely reminded her of one of those cartoon ninja turtles.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. 

He had one of the kindest smiles Kassandra had ever seen, and seeing Harker brooding in the background only egged her on. The man had been watching her all morning, and the irritation it caused had nearly lost her the first fight of the day. He stared at her like he was going to eat her, and she didn't like it. She had to make it clear she'd rather screw a turtle than an ass. With a smile, she gestured to the mat she was sitting on and engaged in small talk with Jimmy Xang, martial artist from NYU. He was a nice guy, but he didn't exactly make her tingle. She was using him to make a point, and would have felt guilty about it if she'd had any intention of meeting him after the tournament.

Kassandra knew that Harker was watching her. There was no way to ignore those bright blue eyes when they focused on you. It was as though those eyes could see right through you; the intensity of his stare was almost as intimidating as hers. Though they'd looked at her with contempt in the past, today they were mentally undressing her. Kassandra couldn't decide if it was arousing or annoying, but whatever the effect, she managed to get it together for the last few fights. 

The rest of the tournament was a blur. The next thing she knew, she was back in her corner, chatting with Alice while the judges tabulated their scores. She saw Harker coming back from the men's finals but refused to look at him as he sat beside her on the bench.

Harker didn't like being jealous. Jealousy clouded your mind and affected your performance. Until he had her, no one, especially some martial artist from New York, was going to touch her. So he placed himself at her side in a gesture he knew was proprietary. Harker didn't know if it was boredom or the interest caused by a hormonal overload, but for the first time he actually listened to her conversation. They were chatting about some event in American politics and as he moved closer, he was surprised by Kassandra's intelligence. 

He didn't agree with everything she said, and she punctuated every argument with a bad joke, but it suited her. Despite his better judgment, and all her faults, he found himself liking her more every minute. There was only an hour before the judges made their final announcements, and in that brief period, Will's plans shifted from a simple matter of seducing her to something infinitely more complex...not to mention annoying.

If Kassandra had any idea what Harker was thinking, chances are she would have run screaming for the hills. He spent the last hour of the tournament with his side inches from hers. Listening intently to the conversations she had with the other students. It was irritating as hell, and she was convinced he did so just to make her nervous. He never participated; he just sat there, watching, listening, and undoubtedly judging her.

The judges finally made their announcements. Kassandra placed third in her division, while Will was recognized for his grace in the forms competition. As Harker moved to collect his trophy, he grabbed her, kissing Kassandra soundly in front of a couple of hundred of North America's best martial artists. She let herself taste him for only a second before shoving him violently away in her embarrassment. She fought every instinct to punch that cocky grin off his face, and through a haze of arousal and irritation, she looked at the crowd. Some were smiling, some frowning. 

She looked at Janus, expecting a look of consternation, but his expression was one of sudden understanding. No one said anything to her as people bowed and cheered. It was a big deal for such a small school to receive such honors, and Janus congratulated them for their behavior during the competition. There was a lot of hand shaking, bowing, and pats on the back. The proceedings halted only to take a bunch of pictures. With a lot of smiles and cheers, they made plans to meet up at ten for drinks.

Kassandra ate a light supper while Alice showered. When her friend left the room to get some dinner, she stepped into the shower and let the hot water heal the aches brought on by two days of fighting. Hoping to get some work done before going out, she slid into a pair of boxers and a tank top, threw a towel over her shoulders, and seated herself in front of her laptop. She heard the door open and close, and went right on typing.

"It's not time to go yet, is it Alice?"

"We're not going," a deep male voice said.

Her breath caught in her throat and she turned and stood, picking up her hairbrush just so she'd have something to fidget with. Her shriek could have cracked glass. There, against the door of her hotel room, stood Will Harker, the man of her unwelcome dreams, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a gray T-shirt that may as well have been painted on. Kassandra tried not to groan. 




A Clichéd Love Story



How the hell did he know men in jeans drove her crazy? 

In an involuntary gesture, she skimmed a glance at his crotch. He wasn't hard, but he was getting there, and she couldn't help licking her lips in response. She raised her eyes, staring into the blue intensity of his. His look was one of intent. Hers was of suspicion. Black eyes stared into blue for several seconds before she spoke. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" 

It sounded more like an accusation than a question. She waited intently for an answer, but Harker didn't give her one. He simply reached behind him and locked the door. His gaze didn't waver as he did it, and as the lock turned, Kassandra swallowed slowly and tightened her grip on her towel.

"I've come to you with a proposition," he said.

"No, thank you," she said immediately.

"You haven't heard me out yet."

"I don't have to."

"Do you have to be so stubborn?"

"I come from a long line of stubborn women," was her reply.

"Well, tough luck. You are going to hear me out, Kassandra, what happens after that is up to you."

"I could kick your ass."

"You can try," he began, "but it's not going to get me away from the door; not until you hear me. I can be just as stubborn as you, Kassandra." 

He said her name as though savoring it, and something inside her clenched in response. She thought about punching him. One punch would put a dent in his confidence . . . but she didn't. It would be too predictable, so she tried the direct approach. 

"You have a proposition, Harker? Out with it! I haven't got all night."

"I want you", he said simply. Though he'd made it clear in the hallway last night, those three little words disarmed her, causing her to drop the hairbrush.

"I don't know what to say to that," she said at last, feeling her heart hammer against her ribs. 

"You don't have to say anything. I want you . . . and despite my better judgment, I'm even beginning to like you. You told me no last night, and normally I'd just let it go, but I want you too badly, so I'll make a deal with you. If I can't convince you in three moves, I'll walk out of this room and never bother you again."

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. It was too ridiculous; but there Will Harker stood, in all his ripped, broad shouldered glory, offering to prove that he was as good in real life as he was in her dreams. She couldn't stand the man, he was arrogant, and proud, and gorgeous. She didn't know what to do, so she went to the small bottle of vodka she had in case of emergencies and took a long swig. As the alcohol burned its way inside her, she swallowed slowly and licked her dry lips. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue, and the pang it caused between her thighs was sharp enough to make her think just a little more clearly.

"You're insane," she said as a matter-of-fact.

"I might be," he said with a shrug, "but I'm not leaving."

Kassandra looked nervous as hell, and the sight of her nerves calmed his. She clutched that towel at her breasts with white knuckles and stared at him as though she wasn't sure what to do about him. He'd thought about using all the stereotypical moves to get her in to bed, but decided against it. Women like Kassandra expected finesse and would dismiss it in a heartbeat. He had no idea how Raph had gotten her room key, but when his friend wished him good luck, he threw manners to the wind and opted for the direct approach. Judging by the look on her face, it was working. She wanted him. All Harker had to do was wait for her permission.

"Three moves?" she asked, her breasts rising and falling with every slow, nervous breath.

"Three moves," he said calmly.

Harker watched her hands squeeze the towel slowly, as she took a deep breath. Her knuckles were banged up worse than yesterday and with a pang of sympathy, he reminded himself to be careful. He approached her slowly, knowing she was too proud to retreat.  

"You're serious," she said softly.

"Dead serious."

"Alright," she said, raising her hands with renewed bravado. "Take your best shot."

It was all he needed to hear. 

Standing before her, Harker looked into her eyes and slowly pulled the towel off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He peeled her glasses off with a more delicate hand, laying them gently on the table behind them. He promised to convince her in three moves, so with his eyes intently fixed on hers, he laid his hand on her ribs and slid it downward, over her tensed stomach muscles, and into her shorts. 

Kassandra's eyes went wide, and before she could speak, he slid his fingers deep inside her, easily finding her g-spot. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head, and she let out the breath he knew she'd been holding. Harker bit back a groan. She was very wet, and the feeling of her muscles around his fingers had him clenching his teeth against an erection so big it was painful. 

Calm down, he told himself; you have all night. He wanted to taste her mouth, but he held himself back. Her muscles clasped his fingers in desperation, but he refused to move them just yet. He wanted her so desperate she wouldn't fight him any more, so rather than indulging himself by tasting those lips, he leaned forward, his mouth inches from hers, and uttered two words.

"That's one."

Kassandra could feel the color rise in her cheeks, as she took deep, slow breaths, fighting the urge to move her hips. Her spine stiffened and she glared at him, her muscles clenching painfully against him. Harker had found the one spot that would make her give in, but she had too much pride to admit defeat this early in the game. She couldn't help but clamp on his fingers, but she could do her best to maintain her composure until he was finished. 

Goddamn, it felt good, and she felt her eyes roll back in her head. She was getting wetter by the second. With all the patience she had, she stood stone still with his fingers lodged inside her, gently rubbing that spot, and waited for his next move. She prayed she wouldn't cum. The instant her body gave in, the game was lost. 

Only Harker didn't see it as a power game. What he felt for her now transcended simple lust; he wasn't sure what it was, but it kept him from jumping her and using her body the way he'd initially planned. 

His eyes never left hers as he walked her back toward her bed. With his fingers still inside her, he urged her backwards onto the mattress. 

Lost in that blue intensity, she laid back, her breasts rising and falling, every muscle tensed as he pulled her shirt up. With his free hand, he took hold of both her wrists, pinning them above her head on the bed, making her back arch. He didn't move immediately. He simply looked at her, taking in gorgeous breasts topped with brownish pink nipples. As Kassandra's nipples puckered in the cold air of the room, he lowered his mouth to her breast.

"That's two," he said softly, looking up at her. 

She stared down at him, her eyes hazed with arousal, those inner muscles clasping urgently at his fingers. She squeezed him once, twice, and he scraped his five o'clock shadow against her breast and took her nipple into his mouth. He licked gently at first, and then sucked violently on her, moving his fingers more quickly inside her, urgently mimicking the act she was now desperate for. 

Kassandra couldn't help herself. His mouth was on her breast, and his fingers stroked her G-spot, and her hands were pinned while she lay there helpless, unable to shove him off, but she didn't want to anymore. Her system experienced a full sensory overload, and she came silently but violently, gasping as her hips thrust frantically against his fingers. 

When her contractions subsided, he looked up, only to find her staring intently at him with those serial killer eyes. Every muscle he had was tensed as he slid his fingers from her body and released her wrists while she lay there breathing heavily. He wanted her so badly it was killing him, but he promised to leave if she decided he hadn't convinced her. 

Harker waited with bated breath, praying that his control wouldn't snap. He had incredible amounts of self discipline, but so help him, all he could think about was taking a bite out of her gorgeous neck as he pumped himself into her. She had to give in, he told himself. He'd just made her cum, that had to count for something. He didn't know if he'd survive her rejection, but he didn't have a choice.

Harker couldn't decide if he felt relief or panic at Kassandra's next move. The next thing he knew he was on his back on the bed, with Kassandra kneeling above him, pinning his arms above his head with alarming strength.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" she hissed against his mouth. "I gave you every opportunity to come to your senses, but you kept coming after me! You want me Harker? You've got me, but don't expect soft or gentle. You won't get them from me!" With that, she crushed her mouth to his, prying his lips apart with her tongue, her nails digging into his wrists.

Harker was helpless then, and he loved it. He kissed her back because there was nothing else, matching her fierce demand. His whole body sighed with relief as she pressed against him. When she lifted her mouth, her look was one of feral intent. Gone was the nervous woman who lay quivering beneath him. The one above him knew exactly what she was doing, and it made him throb painfully. 

Kassandra smiled and slowly released his wrists. Harker lowered his arms, hoping to touch her but she grabbed his hands, lacing their fingers.

"Don't move," she told him, her dark eyes bearing into his. He heard fabric tear as she ripped his shirt down the middle, groaning as she trailed lips, teeth and tongue over him. 

She took a bite of his neck, teasing him with her tongue. She ran her nails over his pecs and stomach, scratching just hard enough to make him hiss. As she looked down at the broad chest and six-pack abs, her mouth watered. The man was gorgeously ripped and tasted every bit as good as he looked. With her lips and tongue, she savored the softness of his skin, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. 

She knew he'd complain tomorrow, but Kassandra didn't care. She didn't believe he'd want her in the morning, and she wasn't entirely sure she'd want him, but for the first time, her conscious and subconscious recognized Harker for what he was: a gorgeous, intelligent male who wanted HER, the village hothead. Kassandra bit hard because she wanted to mark him, brand him as a man she'd fucked. She wanted him bruised, so the next morning, amid the cold civility and awkward, post coital dialogue, she'd have proof she'd had him.

With her hands, she kneaded his muscles and played with the soft hair on his chest. She yanked just hard enough to make him gasp, and then soothed him gently kissing the side of his neck. Her face, she noted, as she slid her tongue over him, fit perfectly, as though it were meant to be there, and then she shoved the thought aside. This is my fantasy, she told herself, jerking his belt open with urgent hands. With a violence that surprised even her, she tore his jeans open and pulled him out, ignoring his pleas to move faster. He'd pushed her past the point of no return, a place where she ignored the begging and took what she wanted. If Harker didn't like it, he could go to hell!

Her face inches from his crotch, Kassandra paused, stared, and licked her lips. This was turning out to be one massive cosmic joke. Not only was Harker drop dead gorgeous, the man was hung. It wasn't fair. No man deserved to be this beautiful. 

She took him into her mouth, wanting him desperate, smiling to herself when he cursed. Though she didn't do this very often, it was a skill she was particularly proud of. While he groaned, she moved her tongue over the head of him, massaging the groove beneath it with her tongue, silently spelling out what she planned to do with him.

"Oh Christ!"

Kassandra raised her head and cocked a brow. "For someone with such a problem with profanity, you're cursing like a sailor."

"I'm doing my damndest not to cum!" he gasped.

"Really?"

He knew she intended to torture him, and the realization destroyed the remains of his self control. On a growl he grabbed her by the waist and tossed her back on the bed, shedding the remains of his shirt as he followed her down. Yanking her shorts off, he took hold of both her thighs and spread her wide. 

Kassandra's gasped and hissed. Just as she prepared to force herself on top, he slid slowly inside her, replacing her protests with a moan of tortured ecstasy. 

Harker groaned. She was even wetter than before, and those soft, tight, clamping muscles made the blow job seem like nothing. God she felt good, and he gritted his teeth against the demand for release. He held still inside her. Now that he had Kassandra, he planned to make it last! He forced himself to think of boring things; Baseball, Soap Operas, Shopping, anything but the woman beneath him and the release his body demanded.

Kassandra didn't want him in control. She wanted him to go crazy and thrust deeply inside her. The man felt so good, she moved her hips frantically against him, causing shallow thrusts inside her, but it wasn't enough. She needed him harder, faster, deeper; but all he did was look deep into her eyes as he held himself lodged deep inside her. His only movement was the rise and fall of his chest that inevitably rubbed him against aching nipples. She sank her nails into his back, silently begging him to end her agony, but he refused to move, and God help her, she couldn't take it anymore!

"Please," she begged, wrapping her legs around his hips and squeezing. "Please."

It was all Harker needed to hear, and with a cocky smile, he moved deeper inside her, tormenting her with slow, deep thrusts. She looked defiantly at him before her eyes glazed over and she dug her nails into his back. Leaning forward, Harker kissed her long and hard and deep, mimicking the thrusts of his hips. He felt Kassandra screaming against his mouth, and took her higher, sliding his hand between them to tease her clit with the tip of his finger. He felt her nails gouge bloody welts into his back, and he didn't care. He felt her cum for the third time that night, savoring her screams as he gave in to her need to go faster. On a moan, he thrust harder and faster inside her and let himself go. 

He recovered a few minutes later, only to discover with immense pride, that Kassandra had passed out. With a grin, he headed to the bathroom to wash up, and then crawled into bed beside her, pulling her limp body against him. Now that he'd had her, he wasn't letting her go.

**

Kassandra woke up to an arousal that was almost painful. She'd had another dream about Harker, and this one had beaten all the others, hands down. In her dream she'd fucked him and passed out, and in her sleep, he'd tied her to the bed and spread her legs. With light touches on her inner thighs, he'd teased gently before licking his way down her belly to her clit. It had all been so real. 

Half asleep, she tried to move her hands and froze. They were tied to the bed with what felt like a belt, and someone had spread her wide and was gently licking her, holding her now flailing legs apart with two strong male hands. Consciousness came back in a rush and her eyes flew open, her muscles tensing. Looking down her body, she could just make out the blonde head in the darkness.

Harker looked up and grinned sheepishly. "I didn't mean to scare you, honey. You just did such an amazing job on me that I thought I'd return the favor."

"Was it necessary to tie me up?" she asked breathlessly.

Harker smiled wider. "You're a restless sleeper, Kassandra . . . and besides, as far as I can tell, you don't like me yet, but you will by the time I'm through with you. Lie back and enjoy yourself, honey, because I'm never letting you go"

Kassandra couldn't decide whether to laugh or scream; gone was the arrogant asshole she knew. The grinning man between her legs was too darn cute, and she was too tired to be shocked or angry. As he licked her clit and blew gently on it, she sighed. If this was a dream, she hoped to stay comatose forever. 

**

In a bar a couple of blocks from the hotel, a twenty-dollar bill exchanged hands.

"It really wasn't fair of you to steal my room key," Alice grumbled.

"Hey! You're the one who can't hold on to anything? Its only twenty bucks," Raph said with a smile.

"Twenty bucks American," she muttered.

"Besides," Raph added, "You're the romantic one. You wanted this to happen, be happy for them."

"I guess," she muttered. 

"Under the circumstances, it looks like we're sharing a room tonight. How about I make it up to you?"

Alice stared at Raph and smiled.

"You're on."



A Cliched Valentine's Massacre



Nothing was going to compare to the amazing valentine's I had last year. I don't care what anyone says, hand painted cards are the way to go....especially when they mean as much as last years did. 

But that was last year, and this year I was all set up for a tragically normal tuesday. I was all prepared to ignore this holiday for the happily (and sometimes sickeningly) coupled.

But apparently Valentine's Day is not a day to be forgotten, and so it decided to pretty much dance infront of me, singing Monty Python's Theme Tune, and wearing.....very little. I shall start from the beginning.

So there I was, having the most wonderful lie in on a monday morning, practising my perfected art of preventing monday morning blues, by turning them into tuesday morning blues (ie, mondays equal lie ins, tuesday equal start of the weeks work...or rather the three days of it) when I got rudely awoken.

Don't get me wrong, it was about half eleven, and lazy old me should have been getting up, but there was this dream I was having....but that's not what this is about.

In my half arsed state I rolled over and looked at my phone, that was buzzing in a fairly irritating way next to my ear. 

"You have one text message." It happily vibrated....far too chirpy for that time of the....well nearly afternoon. 

"Hey, could you send me your address please?"

Now on a normal monday this text would send me into panic...what's so important it can't be emailed, why write to me, when you can call etc...and then I realised. Tuesday was Valentine's day. So this could only mean one thing...someone wanted my address to send me a card!!

The sad being that I am meant that I lept out of bed at such a rate, I almost left my PJs behind me. At this point you're asking me, 'why are you so excited? it's lost any magic it had because now you know who the text is from....surely?' Well no...and you see here is why I am so lazy...

I got a new phone at christmas. And the woman setting my phone up in the shop was useless. So it meant that all my numbers have to be transferred manually...only I sort of ran out of time - didn't get round to it - just in total couldn't be arsed...and so, I have very few numbers on my phone. 

So anyone that hasn't text me in about a month and a half isn't on my new phone...yet.

So this text was from someone from a while ago. And I knew it wasn't someone who annoyed me too much, as they bug me by text far to frequently for me not to have stored their numbers. 

So I was fairly over the moon. And to be honest, not too keen on finding out who it was from, as I like a bit of magic....(only a very, very small bit).

So bouncing around the house, my sister's and I set about making the house tidy for my grandparents. I knew I was in for a bit of stick from my grandad, as I recently noticed he had found a new way to make digs at me. 

When I passed my driving test, not too long ago, I got a card from the lovely dear. The usual congratulations, and then in small print 'make sure you keep your eyes on the road and not on your boyfriends...'

And yet, mother's parents know I've been single since October....I knew I was in for a rough week. 

Grandparent's arrive, everything goes well. Then dinner in the evening. "So," they question my youngest sister, "Have you got a boyfriend?"

Actually she hasn't, but she's darn closer to it that I am, on the basis that she likes him, he likes her, its just neither has any guts at the moment. This keeps Nanny and Grandad (N&G) happy. 

"How about you?" They ask my 16 year old sister. She's been half in/not really in a relationship with a 'Sweet and lovely' lad for a while. So N&G are all smiles.

And then it's my turn. "I'm happy." I replied, smiling sweetly. 

"You're lonely." N&G retort. 

"You won't get any cards...." And a smug smile turned the corners of my mouth up, and they - for once - decided to let it slide.

Tuesday morning arrives, and I'm off to work. Only, it's not too bad, as I recon I can get through the day because I could have a card waiting for me. But while I'm at work, my curiousity gets the better of me. 

I start checking my phone, sure that I've had a message from this number before. And I have. And it relates to hockey. Alarm bells start to ring.....My 16 year old sister's 'sweet and lovely' friend is a player in our mixed team. 

And sure enough, it's his number.

Realisation is fairly slow to dawn I must say. 'Sweet and Lovely', was not after MY address....Sweet and Lovely was after my SISTER'S address. 

Bugger.

I trudge home finally, to find that, yes 'Sweet and Lovely' has sent my sister a valentine's card, and no, there's nothing waiting for me. So I settle myself down with a few magazines and start cutting out some lush lads to put on my wall to help me smile first thing in the morning. 

N&G seem to thrilled to be loaded with enough ammo for the next 17 visits, and are so lovely....

"Never mind...it was never going to beat last year.....why don't you give your ex a ring, does he have a new gf?" 

I breathe in, I have to find a way to shut them up.....or else this really will turn into a cliched valentine's day massacre..... and then grandad delivers what he believes to be a killer blow...

"I never thought I'd see the day when my grandaughters love life would resort to paper cut outs of unattractive wimps from magazines..."

"Oh grandad" I reply, an evil glint finally appearing in my eye as I decide to play the one card that I KNOW could shock them into silence. 

"You're looking at the wrong side....of course I'm not cutting out pictures of Adam brody......I'm after the picture of Jordan on the back..." 

N&G stare at me, a look of horror on their face. "In fact," I mutter, making sure I'm just audiable, "I wonder when I can start bidding on her implants on ebay......"

Valentine's Day the clear winner, but leaving these scores at N&G 0 Moi 1



A Cliff-Hanging Banging



Amy could barely remember the day of the accident. She had been an avid rock climber for years, always being safe, but one day she slipped while leading an overhung sport route and the next thing she knew she was drifting in and out of consciousness in a hospital ICU. 

She normally wore a helmet, but she couldn't remember why she didn't wear one this time: was she showing off for Jason? Was she just forgetful? Was it just a really easy climb? And yeah, why DID she slip off? She vaguely remembered something crawling out of a hold onto her hand, and then pulling the hand out to shake it off; but was that just her imagination filling in details?

A year later, her depression from the trauma and the headaches was exacerbated by her fear of getting back into the sport. She had tried climbing once but vertigo set in no more than 5 feet off the ground. She panicked, climbed down, and stuffed her climbing gear into the back of her closet. 

Finally her friends intervened and bought her a free session with Instructor Mike, a local mountain guide offering instruction in overcoming mental blocks to climbing. His methods were unorthodox, but climbers recovering from post-traumatic stress swore by him. 

And, her friends figured, it wouldn't hurt that he was notoriously incredibly sexy. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Amy checked her watch. The sun was sweltering in the shade-less parking lot, and she was already sweating from nerves, anticipating the climb to come. Instructor Mike was 20 minutes late, and she wondered how long she should reasonably wait. 

She was wearing spandex shorts and a fitted t-shirt, but she was still overheating. She had just decided to take off her shirt to cool down, and was pulling it up over her head when a pick-up pulled up and skidded to a stop into the spot next to her car. She was going to ask for a refund for the unprofessional late arrival, she decided. 

Then she saw Mike. Buff, tanned, moderately tall, with wavy hair that blew around his friendly sweet facial features, she was instantly charmed. "Hi!" he waved as he jumped out of the cabin and grabbed a bag from the truck bed. "Sorry I'm late, car troubles. I won't bore you. Ya ready to climb?" 

"Ha... I guess..." 

"I know you're nervous, your friends told me all about you. It looks like you've been keeping in pretty good shape on your year-long hiatus." He looked her up and down, his eyes moving over her thin sports bra and shorts. He smiled ever so slightly; it made her blush. God, he was gorgeous...

"We're gonna go through a few techniques that I've picked up over the years that will help you relax and get past your trauma. Let's just get your energy up, keep you loose, and focus on re-centering. Sound good?"

Sounded like some hippie crap, but what the hell. "Yeah sounds great."

"Awesome!" Mike tossed her a few pieces of gear and they began walking down the stairs towards the base of the cliffs, making small-talk the whole way. Finally they put their stuff down at a small flat spot beneath a group of climbs that were almost entirely obscured by woods. "There are some good easy climbs here; we'll get to that anchor and then relax you; hopefully by the end of the day we'll get you to lead the next climb!" 

She nodded, but fretted to herself the whole time she was belaying Mike, almost not noticing his perfectly shaped ass and his wide muscular back. Almost. She also noticed a sizeable bulge in his pants, and began to feel a warmth between her legs... 

"Amy, you're on belay!" he yelled down. She noticed the rope was tight, pulling at her harness reassuringly, though the leg loops were distractingly tight against her upper thighs. She began climbing, and the fear quickly returned. Luckily the climb was easy, and despite her shaking and heavy breathing she managed to get up to the top fairly easily. "Nice job, Amy. Let's tie you to this anchor; come right over here." He made a space for her between him and the wall, so they'd both be centered; her back pressed against his torso reassuringly. She thought she felt a bulge growing against her, but assumed it was just his harness.

"Great. Now Amy, I want you to look down; don't worry, I'm right here with you, and you're safe."

Amy looked down; a new wave of panic came over her. She couldn't believe she was 50 feet up; what if the bolt came out? What if the ropes and slings broke? What if her harness had rotted through in the year of disuse? Not trusting herself or her equipment anymore, she began hyperventillating. 

Mike's reassuring voice coaxed her over her shoulder: "Okay, I know it's scary, you're gonna have to ease into it." He began massaging her shoulders, moving down her back, releasing all the tension in what used to be her climbing muscles. 

"Still not helping, huh? Okay, let's get a stretch going. Put your feet up over the anchor bolts. Put your left foot there," he said, pointed at the chain connecting them to the cliff about a foot to their left at head height, "and your right foot over on that one." She did as she was told, and stretched her legs straight. She knew her ass was pressed against his crotch now, but she didn't care; it was working, the stretch and the massage were beginning to relax the knot in her chest that told her she shouldn't be up there. "Now keep breathing deeply," Mike said as he continued to massage her back, and began working his growing boner back and forth against her round backside. 

"Amy, you're still holding on to the rope; let go of the rope, you're gonna need to relax your grip on the ropes completely if you're going to trust this mountain to hold you up." 

"I can't."

"Yes you can Amy. Just trust me. Here, let's tie your hands back here so you don't try and grab the ropes." He took a length of rope and tied it around her left wrist, then ran it behind his back and tied it to her right wrist. He then went back to massaging her shoulders, moving his hips against her. "Just relax. You are completely safe. I got you."

Despite herself, Amy leaned back against his chest, breathing deeply like he asked, trying to relax into the situation of being far off the ground. She felt his dick stiffen as she pushed her chest out; in turn she felt herself get wetter and wetter. 

Mike moved his massaging hands around to the front and began to massage her tits through her thin sports bra. "I see your nipples aren't afraid of heights." She laughed, and then yelped as he squeezed them. 

"Your heart rate is still fast, Amy; we're gonna need you to be fully comfortable up here." 

"Sorry, Mike, I'm doing my best..." 

"I know. Don't worry, we have plenty of other stuff to try, to really ease you back into this." He moved one hand down her front, moving below the harness's waistbelt and down towards her crotch. 

Amy bit her lip as he began massaging her. She was soaking her shorts and she didn't care. He was playing with her labia through the fabric, and pushing it into her slit to massage her clit. Did he do this with all his clients? She didn't care; she was so dripping wet she couldn't stand it. She felt like she was going to come; just as she felt herself welling up, he took his hand away. She suddenly felt the vertigo return, and tried to grab the ropes with her hands. Instead she found herself straining against the ties he'd made around her wrists; it only pulled him closer, his stiff cock moving up and down her ass. 

He then reached down and pulled her shorts down, as far as the leg loops would allow. Her legs were still up, exposing her wet pussy. He pulled his cock out over the elastic band of his shorts and she felt its warm shaft rub up and down her dripping wet slit. Then he entered her. 

The fabric of her shorts held his shaft against her pussy as he began fucking her; but because of the fact that they were hanging, he couldn't really thrust. He reached back around with one hand, reached into her shorts, and started working her wet swollen clit. She sighed and pulled him in with her tied hands, pushing him further into her. She began involuntarily clenching and unclenching her pelvic muscles around his shaft, and over her shoulder she heard him groan with pleasure. He kept circling her clit faster and faster, as she worked his cock inside her. Faster and faster, her fear replaced by the sheer need to come and have him come inside her. She forgot she was up on a cliff; she forgot that she'd just met this man; she forgot the accident.

"Ohhh FUUUCCKKK!!! I'm coming!!!" he shouted as he squirted hot, sticky cum into her pussy. She moaned loudly as she began coming in spasms against his hand and around his cock, which kept shooting out warm liquid that dripped down her shorts and down onto the cliff below.

As Mike untied Amy, he asked: "How are you feeling now about the climb?"

Amy looked down, no longer afraid of the height. She smiled and winked at him as she replied: "I could keep climbing all day."



A Climactic Buffet



Charles and Charlene cut a wide swath through the crowd as they were ushered into the restaurant. They were formidable people with a classic beauty that few can truly appreciate today. 

Once a ninety-pound weakling with a single sports jacket and a perfectly groomed mullet, Charles now stood six feet tall and weighed three hundred forty pounds. His shaved head was decorated with a dragon that curled up near his left ear and then stretched down his neck.

While his waist was large, his biceps bulged through his shirt and his chest was massive. His thighs stretched his pants, nearly splitting the seams. It was obvious he spent hours in the gym.

Though not as large as Charles, Charlene was a Rubenesque beauty on steroids, with an odd mix of soft voluptuous curves and rock hard muscles. Her breasts were barely restrained in her super-sized sports bra and warm-up jacket, while her short dress exposed her large, sculpted thighs and calves. Long blond hair fell straight onto her shoulders, rolling a bit down her back.

As the couple moved past the buffet tables toward their booth, the restaurant manager began to sweat as he felt his profit margin get smaller and smaller with each of the couple's thunderous steps. Determined to maintain his dignity and the integrity of his buffet, he stormed back into the kitchen and directed his crew to double their normal output.

Charles approached the buffet first, grabbing a single plate he moved to the salad bar. He dabbed a light sprinkling of lettuce, spinach leaves and other fixings onto his plate and then moved on to the meat, fish and vegetables. He added a piece of chicken, a slice of fish and some steamed broccoli to his plate and then returned to his seat.

Charlene followed placing slightly smaller portions on her plate and then returned quickly to their booth. The couple ate very slowly, quietly talking and taking long pauses between bites of food.

They had been seated in a dark, back corner of the dining area in a booth in the hopes the distance to the buffet and the struggle to get in and out of the booth might reduce the number of trips they made to the food. Of course, this was the perfect setting for the couple as their conversation and actions became more and more intimate.

Without touching the salad yet, Charlene had eaten the chicken, fish and vegetables while Charles had finished his plate. Instead of heading back to the buffet table, he kicked off his sandals, leaned back in the booth, reached his foot under the table and slid it between Charlene's legs. Spreading her legs wider, she leaned back, scooting her ass forward on the bench giving him complete access to her pussy.

Charles slid his big toe down her slit, dipping it into cunt. He pushed it slowly, letting her lips open to him and her opening moisten his toe in her wetness. Moving the toe in and out of her, he made sure it was well lubricated before sliding it up to her clit. Finding the tiny nub, he rolled his toe over it as he watched her face respond to the pleasure.

As he continued toeing her clit, she started to raise and drop her hips, grinding herself against his foot. She now gripped the table firmly and Charles watched the muscles in her forearms and biceps bulge with the strain. He could feel her trembling in the vibrations of the table and knew she was getting close. Yes, yes he watched as she closed her eyes and raised her hips, hovering above the bench as she came.

Charles quickly ran his toe back down her slit and dipped it inside her. He could feel the faint pulsations that quaked within her. In a moment she relaxed, lowering herself back onto the bench.

Once she regained her composure, she slid her plate over next to him and then moved from her bench over to his. She reached down and opened Charles' pants and eased his cock out. Though not nearly as grotesque as the rest of the man, his cock was still larger than any other man Charlene had been with.

She wanted to take him in her mouth, but, as dark as it was at their booth, a blowjob would be far too obvious, so she used her hands on him. It did take both hands to do this cock justice and she worked them magnificently. First they moved in unison, then she began to vary her stroke, twisting the top hand out over the head, while moving the lower hand up and down, letting her fingers reach down to his balls as the bottom of her stroke.

The strength of her grip did incredible things to Charlie as his cock twitched and flopped in her hands and he had to hold the table just to keep her from pulling him onto the floor. When she stroked him in unison, he could match her strokes by thrusting his hips upward, but when she changed what she was doing, all he could do was sit and let the sensation overwhelm him.

Just as Charles was about to come, Charlene switched to using just one hand on him as she grabbed her plate and held it down between his legs. Just as he was about to spurt, she pointed his cock to her plate and carefully hosed his cum onto her salad. He continued to come, spurting several more times. She carefully caught every drop and then as his cock softened, she milked out the last few drops.

Leaving Charles to return his, now softening, cock back to his pants, Charlene moved back to her spot across the table from him. Sliding the plate back in front of her, she took several bites of the salad and then held a forkful up to Charles, who sheepishly took the bite. Smiling, she finished the salad and then waved to the waiter.

After paying for their single plate of food, the couple stood up and headed back through the restaurant. There was a general ruckus that took them a minute or so to get around. 

Apparently several dozen trays of food were being pushed out to an already full buffet as the manager watched Charles and Charlene leave. He then went into the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks, he then whined, "Make that a double please."  



A Clinical Tale



I walked nervously into the small waiting room and gave the person sitting behind the front desk my name and said it was my first time as I had been told to do. The woman asked for my signature on a number of forms and to certify that the information I'd filled out online was correct. Then she gave me a small, black card with the number 34 printed in white. 

"This is your tap card. From now on when you come in you tap this over at the computer, verify your information, and then sit and wait. Your number will flash above the window and you can pick up your box and walk through the door."

The woman stopped talking so I turned to walk to the computer and tapped my card. A thin strip of receipt paper came out after I tapped 'okay" and I tore it off and went back to my seat to read it.

#34

Procedures

-Cleansing 3

-External punishment 4B

-Stretching 4B

-Internal massage 2

Instructions: 

Keep card with you at all times.

A) Enter door 3 and remove all of your clothing. Remove the nozzle in the blue bag and using the lubricant in the room insert it rectally. At the enema machine lower yourself onto the bench so the protruding pipe goes through the stationary nozzle in your rectum. Place your feet flat on the provided footrests and lean back against the backrest. Tap your card on the card target and try to relax; follow the instructions on the screen in front of you. A green light will flash when you are free to stand up. Expect this process to be uncomfortable. It will take between 30 and 45 minutes. Do not engage in any stimulation.

Please take a black robe from the closet and leave all of your clothing in the cleansing room. Take your box through to the shower room. Remove the nozzle from your rectum and place it in the large red container against the wall. Shower, paying specific attention to genitalia. Do not masturbate. After you are finished please dry off and insert the rectal plug found in the red bag using only soap as lubricant. Put on the black robe and bring your box to door 4B. Place your box on the floor and lay on your stomach on the bench.

B) With your robe open in front place your feet behind the supports so your legs are spread. Tap your card on the card target to call your therapist.

Your therapist will give you any further instructions. You are required to remain as quiet as possible during treatment. Your safeword is SURRENDER. If you utter this all will stop but you will not be permitted to return for treatment without an extensive evaluation and punishment. Please only use it if you are in danger.

After your visit do not have a BM for at least 36 hours. Unless your therapist says otherwise you are welcome to orgasm after your treatment in the room marked "play room."

Enjoy!

I couldn't believe this place even existed. I stumbled on it online starting with a random comment I saw on a post. It was only a half hour drive from my house and in their response to my initial email they said that they'd be able to accommodate my needs.

There was a soft bell and my number flashed. I was the only person in the waiting room and it seemed silly to go through this formality but it had been explained that only new clients came through before noon.

A box came out and I took it and walked through door 3. I removed all of my clothes and put them in one of the cubbies. I pulled out the blue bag and ripped it open. Inside was a metal tube, flared at both ends, probably an inch in diameter. It looked huge but I reminded myself I wanted this. I approached the pump bottles on the wall and squirted a good amount on my hands and the nozzle. There was a poster on the wall illustrating how to insert it. I tilted it slightly and began pressing against my anus. It felt like it was stretching too much but I kept going. Surly they wouldn't give me something that would cut me, right? 

Slowly it entered, stretching me, and I felt completely unsexy. Did I really even want to do this? So far it wasn't any fun. I figured if I needed to I could always quit. I walked up to the somewhat imposing black plastic seat and tried to position myself over it and lowered myself onto the metal pipe protruding that was much smaller diameter than the stretcher inside me and probably 10 inches long. Because I was already stretched I didn't feel anything. I tapped my card and the screen in front of me turned on. I confirmed my name and patient number and heard the hum of something mechanical start up. I leaned back against the seat and suddenly I felt the pressure inside of me of water shooting in and the sound of it splashing back out. The screen in front of me read "rinse" with a countdown of 60 seconds. It wasn't pleasant or unpleasant. I could barely feel it except for the slight pressure. The water seemed to be exactly my body temperature. 

The countdown reached 0 and the pressure stopped. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and relaxed further into the seat. The screen read "Enema 1, soap" and I felt a slight pressure that I soon realized was a stopper. The solution began to fill me a little faster than the initial rinse. After just a minute I needed to release and glanced at the countdown. 

3:49... 48... 47

I took deep breaths and tried to relax. 2 minutes left. Breathe through the cramps. I was still being filled. I shifted a little in my seat. One minute and thirty seconds. One minute. The filling slowly tapered off. My stomach hurt. I'd fasted for 12 hours before but I hadn't used any enema or laxatives in the past 2 days as was requested.

The screen went blank for a second and then it read "retention" and the countdown started over at 5 minutes. I almost cried; five more minutes of this? And this was just the beginning; I knew I wouldn't get away with just one enema. I kept breathing and began massaging my stomach, clenching and trying to force myself to relax. The countdown finally read 0 and I felt the plug pull out and I slowly started to drain. After a minute the screen said "rinse" and I felt another wash of warm, clean water rinse the soap residue away. The rinse went on for two minutes and then I just sat there. It had hurt but I was definitely wet. The screen went blank again and then new instructions came up. "Place your arms on the arm rests. Do not remove them for the remainder of your cleansing session."

I did as it requested. I felt the pressure again that let me know I was plugged. The screen said, "Enema 2 -- baking soda." It was the same procedure as the first time but this one was colder and I cramped up faster. Within a minute I was aching to massage my stomach and after another minute I absentmindedly picked up my right arm to do so and the screen flashed and told me to keep my arms in place. I did so wondering if there were sensors in the arms or if someone was watching. I was startled and tensed up which made the cramps worse. After 3 minutes of rapid filling the release countdown clock came up again. 7 minutes. It was agonizing but I could tell I was wet. 

When the plug was released I breathed a sigh of relief and hoped that was it for the enemas. The screen flashed rinsing again and the warm water flushed me out. I longed to masturbate but knew it was against the rules. I clenched and released trying fruitlessly to get some release. 

The screen went blank again and I desperately hoped I was done but I felt the plug reenter me. I almost cried. My stomach still hurt. The screen read "Enema 3 -- water." I could handle water. Then I felt a lot of pressure. It kept filling and filling me and I was starting to cramp quickly and badly. After a while I was so full I couldn't feel the water shooting into me any longer but I still felt my stomach expanding. It was agony. The screen switched to say "retention 10 minutes." It was all I could do to keep breathing and try to not look at my distended stomach and watch the seconds count down. When I finally got to release I heard the water shoot out of me in a jet. "Please, please let it be over" I thought. And it was. The green light came on above the screen and I heard the pipe retract. I stood up gingerly, still sore and in a little pain from remaining in the same position for so long. I stretched for a minute and reached down to feel how wet I was. Very. It wasn't fun during some of those enemas but my body did like it. As I bent down to stretch out my back suddenly a small puddle of water appeared on the floor -- apparently I still had some water in me. 

I went back over to my small instruction sheet and reread what I was to do next. I got the black robe from the closet and picked up my box. I removed the red bag and pulled out a butt plug bigger than I'd ever used. My butt already hurt from not being able to close it for over a half hour. I didn't want to put this thing in. 

The shower room was warmer than I thought; I had been picturing the showers at the gym but this was somewhat like a normal bathroom. I adjusted the temperature to my liking and then steeled myself to pull the rectal nozzle out. I pulled slowly and it came out easier than I thought. It felt so good to have it removed.

I stepped into the steamy shower and just relaxed against the wall. I wanted to masturbate but I also wanted to follow the instructions. I knew I'd enjoy it more if I followed directions. I used the huge pumps on the wall to dispense soap. It smelled almost industrial strength and left my skin feeling dry. I didn't want to put it on any sensitive skin but I knew I had to. I pumped a bit onto my hand, lathered it up, and began to scrub. It didn't burn at first but after a bit I was tingling. I rinsed it off as soon as I could with the handheld shower but after all the soap was gone my feeling remained. I finished soaping up, washed my hair and conditioned it, and then reached for the butt plug. It was going to hurt but I guess I was going to be okay with that. 

I squirted a bit of the soap onto the plug hoping to use as little as possible to get it inside me. I touched the plug to my hole and immediately knew I was very sore. I took a deep breath and just started applying pressure trying to remember everything I'd learned about anal sex. Try to push out, try to relax. After a few false starts and almost breaking into tears I finally got it in. It stung, I felt very stretched, but it was inside me. I'd done it.

I walked, slightly wobbly, to the hook to get my robe and then took everything out the door and into the hall. Every step moved the plug up my ass and I felt like I had to shit even though I knew that after three enemas there couldn't be anything left in me. I found room 4, entered, and walked into door B. This was really it, I thought, the place I'll be punished. I already felt like I'd been through the ringer but this was special; this was really why I'd come. 

I carefully placed my box on the floor, went to the bench, and laid down, hooking my lower legs behind the supports so my ass was lewdly presented. I took my card, tapped it, and waited.

---

The therapist appeared within less than a minute. "Alex?" she checked. "Yes." She stepped to my side and laid her hand on my ass and pushed down slightly. I tensed up.

"Please try not to move. What I am going to do is designed to hurt but there will be no permanent damage. We request patients try to remain silent. You are permitted one three-minute break which you can request at any time by saying 'break.' Do you understand?"

"yes"

And with that she landed a hard blow on my ass. I hadn't expected it so soon and I jumped. She walked away to a cabinet I hadn't noticed and began pulling things out. A cane, a strap, and a leather glove.

She first put the glove on her right hand and stood on my left side. She took off my robe leaving me completely naked and with her right hand pushed on the butt plug a few times fucking me a little with it.

"no" I squeaked.

She pushed on it hard, driving it into me, "I believe I'm the one who decides yes or no." and without waiting for an answer she began to spank my ass hard. 

There's no feeling quit like being spanked by somebody who's good at it. She was very, very good. It hurt but it was incredibly hot. She put just a little pressure on my back and moved around my ass with her hand making sure it was well covered. Tears were just starting to well in my smarting eyes when she switched to roughly massaging my ass.

I took a deep breath and exhaled letting my body sink further into the bench. I heard her walk around to the front of the table. "I'm going to put two fingers in you." The sound of a rubber glove going on hit my ears and I felt two fingers slip into me. I was sopping wet. She added a third finger and started spanking my ass again with her other hand. She wasn't fucking me with the fingers she just had them firmly in me. I wished she'd move her hand or something. It was maddening to have her in me but not getting me off.

She withdrew her fingers from my cunt and her hand from my ass and walked away. I heard her remove her gloves.

She came back and without warning pushed something big into my cunt. She turned the base and it expanded both filling me and keeping it firmly in place. She took the leather paddle and said "count down from 50 for me." With each stroke seeming more painful than the last it was almost impossible to keep the numbers straight. I was whimpering by the time we got to 1. She grabbed the base of the butt plug and roughly shoved it further in a few times making me wince. 

"You're doing a good job. You like this, don't you."

"yes" I answered feeling proud I was keeping up.

"How's your ass?"

"Sore. Inside and out."

"Well it's about to get worse"

And without any warning she hit me with the cane. It was a sharp, smarting pain and I felt like my skin was splitting. 14 more times she hit me with the cane before she put it down and started massaging my ass again, more gently this time. 

"Okay, let's get these things out of you."

She started with the butt plug, pulling it slowly but firmly and stretching me painfully wide again. The soap had dried out a bit and my skin pulled as it came out. She took a wash cloth, ran it under warm water, and cleaned me off. Next she twisted the base of the thing in my cunt again, closing it slightly but still pulling it out while it was expanded. I grunted slightly at being stretched but I was mostly thrilled to have them out. 

"I'm going to give you 10 minutes to rest" she said, after cleaning me off again with the wash cloth. "Please stay laying down, I will return soon." She covered me with the black robe and walked out of the room.

I knew what was coming next -- stretching. Which I had specified as vaginal fisting and anal stretching. I wasn't looking forward to it as much as I had been because I was still pretty sore but I loved the idea of being fisted and I was excited to have it done to me. The woman I had originally spoken with told me that almost everyone was able to be fisted on their first visit but that I should expect some pain with that.

The footsteps let me know my therapist was coming back. She didn't say anything as she washed her hands but then asked if I wanted an ice cube to suck on. I was incredibly thirsty so I said yes, and she brought over a small cup of them. I pushed myself up a bit on my elbow and grabbed one to put in my mouth. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was.

"Do you need to urinate?" she asked. I answered that I didn't.

"Great. We're going to get started. Lay back down and remember to breathe deeply. Try not to tense up too much. I'm going to start with anal plugs and when I'm done with that we'll turn you over for fisting."

I felt her finger touch my asshole and slowly start pressing. Two fingers went in easily and a third was added without too much pressure. Then she removed them and I laid there in quiet anticipation. I felt something cold start to push into me and when it slowly started to open I realized it was a speculum. Trying to relax I took a deep breath but then winced as I was stretched too fast. She stopped for just a minute and then began slowly opening it again. At last I heard a small click I somehow knew meant it was done. She brought a small hose up from below and directed it at my gaping ass and warm water sprayed from it. It felt fantastic.

I felt her hand on the speculum again and some pressure; I realized she was pulling it out while still open. Involuntarily I tensed and it hurt even more. I felt the reassuring hand on my lower back and took a deep breath as she continued to pull it from me. At last she was at the end and said "this is the worst part" and then yanked it from me quickly. I couldn't help but let out a small cry.

Without my realizing it she'd slipped four fingers in my ass, palm down, and she was massaging inside me. She had everything up to where her thumb joined her hand inside me and slowly, so slowly, added her thumb inside me. And then she stopped moving in and out and the pressure was only pushing in. I realized she was going to fist my ass. And then with one last big stretch her entire fist was in my ass. It hurt but I was already so stretched I almost didn't register this. She continued pumping, in and out, for a few minutes and then just as slowly pulled her hand all the way out.

"Let's get you turned over" she said, retracting the side stirrups. I gingerly sat up and felt totally deflated. I was done. Totally worn out. I almost said this but couldn't bring myself to quit. I laid down on my back and it felt so good to be in a different position. After washing her hands and putting on new gloves my therapist came back over. 

She slid two fingers into my sopping cunt, then a third, and a fourth. "This should be fast and easy." 

She pushed her thumb in and then with steady in and out movements she got her hand inside me. It was that simple; I was being fisted. 

"Deep breaths" she said "try not to clench." She moved her hand deeper and then pulled it back just a bit. She didn't exit me at all, just retracted enough for me to feel it. She kept up these small movements making them the tiniest bit bigger with each passing minute. Soon she was pumping her hand hard in me and then she suddenly pulled out with a full fist.

I squeaked in surprise but before long her fist was back in me. And then out, and in, and out, and in again. Over and over she brought her fist out of my cunt and shoved it back in and while it didn't hurt I could feel the stretch, the pressure on the back of my vagina, and I was tired. I was glad she stopped when she did. 

"Let's have you sit up." She said after I'd laid quietly for a few minutes. "You did a great job. Drink that cup of water and then we'll have you go over for your massage. It's a fast process after what you just went through."

"Yes, ma'am." I said, between sips of water. After I'd finished the cup I slowly got to my feet to see how they would carry me. I was steady but sore. I thanked her again and put on my robe. I took my mostly empty box and walked out, checking my instructions. Room 2.

I found it and walked in. A woman in a pair of jeans and a button up with a brutally short haircut asked how I was feeling. 

"Fine. Sore."

"I'm going to have you sit on one of these chairs. Direct the small metal rods into your vagina and anus. A thin dildo will enter you and the tips will expand and vibrate. It shouldn't hurt at all."

I did as she said, relaxing back into the comfortable cushions of the chair. She pushed a button and said, "deep breaths and relax. I'll get you when it's done. Do not masturbate."

I felt the small dildos enter just like she said and both started vibrating. I felt the one in my pussy growing bigger, almost like it had a ball on the end. It felt good and gentle after all the roughness in the other room. Too soon the woman was back. 




A Clinical Tale



"All set?" she inquired.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Do you want to orgasm now, or go home?"

"I'd really like to cum" I said, somewhat shyly.

"Head straight back to the room with the black door. Use anything you find. After you're finished deposit whatever you've used in the red bin. Then go back to your original room, shower, and check out."

"Thank you" I said, walking toward the door.

I walked to the black door, entered, and saw all manner of dildo and vibrator available. I selected a hitachi magic wand, a tried and true favorite, and went to one of the curtained off cells. There was a cushy mat on the floor and an outlet. I plumped up a couple pillows behind me, relaxed, and turned on the high powered vibrations. 

Too soon I was cumming. My body was so beyond ready and so beyond turned on that I couldn't help it. I was too tired to go for a second though I'm sure I could have easily gotten there. I stood up, placed the hitachi in red bin, and walked out to get dressed.

After a thorough shower I put my clothes back on feeling exhausted, fucked, stretched, and hot. As I laced up my black boots I asked myself if I wanted to come back to be a regular. I did, I decided. It hurt but I loved it.

Upon leaving I tapped my card to leave the office door and a strip of paper printed out. I handed it to the receptionist. 

"Would you prefer a four or six week schedule?" she asked.

"Four." I decided. 

"Your next appointment will be the 25th of May." She said, printing this on a small card. "Please fast for 12 hours prior, drink at least 32 ounces of water, and wear this" she said, handing me a bag, "for at least 20 hours a week between now and then. We expect you to show up wearing it. We will know if you did not." Inside was a large buttplug. I slid it into my messenger bag as I walked out, slowly, still in pain, and smiling.