3 comments/ 7238 views/ 2 favorites Sex is a Battle Field By: GoldenMaia All Frankie could taste was her own blood. There was a copper fire in the back of her mouth and her head was ringing. She felt alive. She was alive! She stood in the middle of the ring with hands over her head, willing her legs to stay steady as she let the victory wash over her. Her adrenaline was throbbing through her, beating and pounding, like she could feel everything. She wanted to feel it all! The pain was a tangle of sensation bordering on pleasure. She'd won the fight! She'd won, despite the odds against her. Sure, she was only Eighteen but she'd been training since she was ten. Now, a woman, she was soaking in the glory and the blood. All the times she'd lost didn't matter now. It felt like forever until her trainer Dave swept in with a towel and blessed water. Oh thank God for Dave! She sagged, heart so full, tears trickled down her cheeks. Dave would always be there; her rock. Steady and strong and she longed towards him, wanting him to feel the electric thrill of the afterglow with him. He was a large man, thick through the neck and shoulders, looking like a thug. He was a bit of a thug, and she had been in love with him for years. He grinned at her, "You are bad ass Welton." His voice sounded rough as razor wire and diesel, deep back in his throat. Part of his charm, Frankie thought, his deep Bronx accent and he snarled with extra volume tonight. His broad chest puffed out with pride as he swept the warm robe over her shoulders and threw his arm around her. "Yeah?" She said and beamed at him. They stood at equal height, 6'2. She loved it. How he could fight her and train her and keep her in line. He didn't make her feel too big or too awkward like other men did. He was perfect. And he thought she was a bad ass. Frankie Welton came as close to laughter as she got these days. "Hell yeah. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and we can celebrate. You deserve it. God /damn/ girl." His words punched the consonants with more than his typical vigor. He beamed at her and then winked, "Told you if you keep your hands up, you won't get your nose busted again." She felt her smile widen, her heart pattering as she leaned into him and the arm around her. He never put an arm around her like this. He usually kept his distance. She'd proven herself now though. He could see that. Right? He thought she was bad ass. Her heart felt almost too big to fit her ribs and she ducked her head so he couldn't see her tears. "Don't go all pussy on me." He growled at her, the teasing bordering on mocking. She sniffled a last time and sucked it in. "Right. I'm not. Just happy is all. Really happy Dave." Could he tell how happy she was? Drunk on the moment and on life, thrilled through the ache in her body, her rib where she'd gotten kicked and almost ended the fight. A win! She might actually be able to do this for real. Amateur fighter! She cleaned up and dressed, smiling as she put on the snug baby-doll tee-shirt. She never did this either. Flirting and wearing something skimpy to show off her curves. Flaunting her little breasts meant showing off all the edges, the heavy muscles women weren't supposed to have. The broad shoulders and thick neck of a weight lifter and fighter. Tonight she felt like she could do it, and Dave would look at her and see her as a woman. He would see her like she wanted to be seen. Sexy. She even selected a skirt to wear, a very short, tight skirt that rode low on her hips. Her hip bones and stomach showed when she lifted her hands over her head. It was daring. It was very un-Frankie-Like. God, she wanted to live tonight. She wanted to take life and make it hers. Looking into the mirror, she grinned at herself and applied makeup for a change, foundation to cover her nutmeg freckles and conceal most of the bruises. Eyeliner applied to bring out the silver-green of her gaze and some gold shadow. Her hair. She sighed at the mass of Sunkist orange curls and scrubbed her hands through them. There was little she could do with the curls to manage them, so she tied the mess back. Her mouth was too wide, her teeth too big, her aquiline nose broken and badly healed. Frankie was a fighter, not a model. She put lipstick on anyway and blushed at her reflection. She looked like a real girl. A real woman. She pulled the hem of her shirt down and her small, pert breasts pushed against the thin fabric of the teeshirt, pulling against her nipples. No bra either. Posing there for her reflection, she pushed her chest forward and her ass out slightly, rolling her hip. The motion was awkward and unpracticed; her blush crept through the mask of her makeup. God she wanted Dave tonight. Her nipples tightened under the shirt as she thought of the many ways she wanted him. Was she putting out all the right signals? Too many signals? The only way to tell was to go out there and see if he took the bait. He was waiting for her as she came out of the locker room and his eyes almost bugged out of his head at seeing her. Made up, body exposed and she was putting on all the sensuality in her walk. Though she felt silly, the effect was what she wanted. Dave looked her over like he never had before. Like he was seeing a woman and not some snot-nosed kid he had to keep in line. She was Eighteen. She wasn't a kid now. "Wow Frankie. You look great. Winning really looks good on you." He grinned at her and moistened his lips. She noticed he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and he seemed to remember it too as his eyes made another pass over her body. "Want a drink? I mean—I guess I shouldn't since you're a minor and all but—I had to have one myself." She felt her stomach tighten a few more knots as those azure blue eyes drank her in. She rolled her shoulders back, pushing her chest forward so she could feel the rasp of the shirt against her nipples and saw his eyes half lid in pleasure at her unexpected new sensuality. "I shouldn't drink. But you go ahead. Maybe we could—stay here instead of going out?" She took another step closer to him, slow and steady. "Well, we probably shouldn't stay here." He said, his voice catching. He drank right from the bottle, not moving away from her as she took another step in, taking her chance. He wasn't moving away. It was almost an invitation. "I want to stay in." She murmured, enjoying the warm scent of the whiskey on him as she got into his personal space. Her body shivered as she felt his warmth. So close. She would just lean in and feel his strong, hard body against hers. She heard him groan as she leaned in and answered him with a soft moan of her own as her nipples ground up against his chest. "Oh God. I promised to take care of you Frankie. I don't think it's a good job to...ughn." He almost dropped the bottle of whiskey as she pressed herself in flush against him. She lay her hand on his chest, curling her fingers in his shirt as she met his gaze levelly, loving how she didn't have to look down at him. Loving how solid he was. How he smelled. She wanted to feel his rough face against hers. Against her breasts. Fantasy and imagination tumbled in her mind. What would she do if he put that rough mouth all over her young body? "It's ok Dave, you /are/ taking care of me." Her fingers relaxed and slid down his stomach, tracing each hard muscle, making them twitch and quiver as he tried to resist her, but not enough to draw away. "Please Dave. You know we will be so good together." Lower her hand trailed and he made a trapped sound in his throat as her fingers cupped around his groin at last, giving a slow, steady squeeze around him. "I want you to be my first." She'd imagined what it would feel like to touch him. It was so much better than she dreamed. Thick, swelling under her hand as she applied a steady pressure to him. Even through his jeans, she felt the prickle of lust and pleasure at stroking him. The way the length tightened when she rolled her palm against it sent a wave of desire through her. What if he were to cup his hand over her sex under her skirt—found her without panties. Oh yes. She wanted to feel his thick fingers pushing inside her. He moaned and set the whiskey aside so he could slowly run his hands down her shoulders, sides and settled his hands on her hips, squeezing those powerful fingers until she felt the sweet ache of power in his hold. "I shouldn't take advantage of...ugh...God." His hips slowly rocked forward to press his cock against her hand and through the jeans she felt him thicken and pulse in time with her heartbeat. "Maybe I'm the one taking advantage." She whispered and rubbed her breasts against his shirt, breathing in the whiskey and sweat smell of him, lips so close to his. "You're not afraid of a girl are you?" She teased. He gave a shake of his head and unsteadily covered her hand with his. "Please Frankie, we can't. I shouldn't." He took a small step back from her, sucking a breath in through his teeth as he reluctantly drew her hands off his manhood. They stood there looking at each other, the desire thick and heavy between them. "Have a drink with me instead." His voice broke a little with the raw emotion there. She could tell he wanted her; he was just playing hard to get. "I'll get a glass then." She told him, heart in her mouth, hammering so hard. A drink or two more, perhaps that would convince him to let down his guard. Heat washed through her face, her legs were weak and knees uncertain as she moved to the side bar. She leaned over the bar and felt her skirt rise up a little as she searched the bar for the glasses for them. Just as her fingers wrapped around the glass, she felt him up behind her, his body pressing in against hers, the thick hardness of his manhood pressed into her ass cheek, his big hands gripping her hips to hold her steady and keep her from getting away. "You know Frankie—you are one sexy woman." His voice slightly slurred from the booze. Straightening, she leaned herself back against him, feeling his chest at her spine and his cock throbbing against her through the tight skirt and his tighter jeans. A thrill shot through her body and she let her eyes close. "Is that right? Maybe you should show me just how good I look." She murmured and held her breath. She could feel him hesitate a moment behind her and then his hands slid upward, sliding under the edge of her shirt, pushing it up. His rough fingertips slid along her body, tracing her tight abs and making her quiver with desire. "And just how—would I do that?" He asked, rolling his hips forward, grinding against her. Low, his voice moaned against the back of her neck. "You smell so good. Good enough to eat." A sudden prickle along her skin shocked her. His teeth pressed into her shoulder, dimpling her flesh under the pressure of it, making her moan. She moaned, leaning again onto the bar, pushing the whiskey aside. Her head buzzed from the fight and from her need for him. "Take off my clothes and use my body to show me." She demanded it through her teeth. "Fuck." He snarled and his hand brushed along the underside of her breast, hard fingertips scraping her skin. Her plump nipples tightened to points as his big palm cupped over the mound. Fingernails bit into her flesh, raking fingers against her nipple, pulling and squeezing until she cried out. "You like being hurt. Don't you?" He demanded in her ear before biting her ear lobe. "Yes!" She cried out, lost in the sensation, loving how he took charge of her. She did like being hurt like this. Why did she like that? Why did it thrill her so much and soak her virgin pussy? "I should show you what it really feels like—pain." He suggested and bit her earlobe again until she sagged, screaming out again, sharper this time at the unexpected spark of sensation that spread through her cunny and soaked her thighs. "Yes! More!" She whimpered, feeling weak as he squeezed her nipple and twisted it. "You're such an eager virgin aren't you?" He demanded, putting his leg between hers and forcing her thighs open wide so he could slide his body in between them, grinding himself against the cleft of her ass. "You will just let me fuck you right here? Claim you? As hard as I want?" His voice had that whiskey heat to it, growling out with the nearly shocking primal fury. "Fucking slut." He slurred. "Yess!!" Frankie moaned, head spinning at the sensation and she heard him fumbling with his belt buckle and pants and his other hand lifted her skirt, ripping it up high over her hips, exposing her ass. His hand grabbed her cheek hard, bruising her and making her scream in response. Pain. Pleasure. Shock. Her body bucked and he forced her down and forward. "Slut." He snarled against her ear and she felt the heat of his cock lap along her ass cheeks, wet with precum and hard as a steel spike. "I'm going to give you want you want. You going to scream for it?" His hand found her hair and grabbed a handful of her curls, pulling her head back. Her heart sang with pleasure at how rough and brutal he was. She could feel her juices trickling down her thighs as her legs were spread wider. "Spread your thighs. Wider. Wider! Ughh!!" He was forcing her head down by the grip in her hair and she bowed forward more, arching her ass high and proud into the air. Her cheek pressed into the cold bar top, her breath making a steamy fog on the surface as he held her down, forcing her down roughly. Then he slapped her ass with his hand. Once. Twice. Three times. The impact stinging and sending hot tangle of beautiful, shameful delight weaving in her belly, trickling down her thighs as the honey overflowed her. "Look how wet you are! I don't even have to touch your little pussy. Do you touch your pussy slut?" he snarled at her and spanked her again. "N-no!" She stuttered and jerked, pain warming through her flanks as he spanked her harder. "That's because you need it to hurt. Don't you? Need to be brutal? " She started to cry YES. Felt her bones melting with the sweet sensation of the mixture of lust and need and hunger when his cock suddenly split her cock. The pain was intense. Fire and agony as he claimed her, slamming into her with one, rough, savage pump of his hips that threw her forward into the bar with a clank of bottles and rattle of bones. "Oh." He sounded shocked as he plunged into her and his cock twitched savagely up into her. His balls tightened up against her cleft and his whole body went ridged unexpectedly. "Fuck!" Surprise and startled, he gripped her hard and bit into her shoulder hard enough to break the skin. He held onto her with a crushing strength, shuddering and trembling and she could tell he was struggling with his passions. "Don't stop!" She whimpered, "Fuck me!" She demanded and jerked back against him. She felt his cock throb inside her and the heat washed through her as he cried out sharply. "UGhnn!! Ughn, Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!" HE said over and over again, burring his face into the nape of her neck, grinding against her as he spasmed and jerked inside her. Frankie wasn't quite sure what happened. She ached through to her core with unsatisfied need and a fire of pain like warm coals where she'd been bitten and spanked and it made her crave more. Yet he stopped. And he didn't move against her, panting and growling softly. His grip softened against her and his cock softened too. As it did, the heat of his cum trickled out around him, down her thighs. But—there should be more. There should be hard, brutal thrusting and -more. MORE. Her insides craved it and her heart continued to gallop with need but—he only held her and hid his face against her neck, struggling to control his breathing. The smell of whiskey washed over her as he breathed against her, "I'm ... Sorry Frankie." He slurred low against her ear. "I'm So sorry." She turned to see the wretched expression of guilt and shame on his face. She didn't understand for a moment and then it crashed down on her. That had been the end of it. He'd—finished. "We can rest and try again. She murmured to him but even as she said it, she saw the haunted lookin his eyes, the grim expression so heavy with guilt. He pulled away from her and his cock slipped free, leaving her full of his cum and yearning for more. "I ... didn't mean to hurt you." His voice sounded thick with the booze. "I should have had more control. I took advantage. Oh Fuck Frankie. Please forgive me." There was something haunted in his expression as he looked at her and a little shiver ran through him as he pulled his boxers up. "But I wanted it." She told him, adjusting her skirt, feeling strange and awkward as he fixed that look on her. "Didn't you?" He must have. Right? He'd lost control." Shame burned through his eyes. "It's not right to want to hurt someone like that for pleasure." He managed. "I'm sorry. There's just something wrong about—about that. I'm sorry. So sorry." He hesitated and then kissed her forehead and stumbled out of the room, grabbing his whiskey bottle and taking it with him to the locker room. Frankie remained where she was, her heart still thundering, cum and her own lust trickling down the inside of her thigh and frowned to herself. It was so very wrong to want to be hurt? Was she really a slut? She bit on the inside of her cheek hard, until she could taste her blood again.