Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7576129.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Sebastian_Stan_-_Fandom, Lance_Tucker_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Lance_Tucker/Reader, Sebastian_Stan/Reader, Lance_Tucker/You, Sebastian
      Stan/You
  Character:
      Lance_Tucker, You, Reader
  Additional Tags:
      Gymnastics, Gymnist, Coach_Lance_Tucker, Underage_Reader, Inappropriate
      Behavior, Hot_coach, Sadistic_Tucker, Perv_Tucker, Sexxxual_attraction,
      Daddy_Issues, Dom_Lance_Tucker, Submissive_Reader, Age_Difference, age
      gap, Masturbation, Daddy_Kink, Happy_birthday_reader, Aggressive_Lance
      Tucker
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-25 Completed: 2016-07-28 Chapters: 4/4 Words: 7482
****** Coach Tucker ******
by The_Whip_Hand_81
Summary
     You're a young gymnist whose parents just hired World Olympian
     Champion Lance Tucker to train you before your 18th birthday. Your
     sweet demeanor is no match for his surly, aggressive teachings...and
     sexually inappropriate behavior towards you. What will you do?
Notes
     Just watched "The Bronze" this weekend and it helped GREATLY with
     inspiration on his character.
     Lance Tucker, everybody.
     http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4e/eb/d1/
     4eebd110680a6b7256e0ea5cf762f81e.jpg
     This mainly goes out to my young readers who requested an underage/
     age difference story. This is dedicated to you, youngens! LOL Hope
     ya'll like it!
     More chapters coming soon!
***** Chapter 1 *****
You have been training as a gymnist as early as the age of four as something
your parents thought wouldl be fun for their little girl to enjoy. Through the
years, you became serious about competing throughout your tiny town and even
traveled to other parts of the state to compete up against your gymnist peers.
With a strict discipline of no junk food, no parties, no social time and no
boys, you were completely self-trained not to crave any of those things average
girls your age had. Now, nearing your 18th birthday, you are excited to be on
your own to make your own decisions and finally (maybe) eat a buffalo wing or
two as a treat to yourself on a week well done. Until then, you are working
hard and vigorously to attain your town's reputation as being the local
celebrity and role model all little girls look up to. With your stunning
youthful looks, great body and winning smile, your naive and sunny disposition
makes anyone instantly fall in love with you. Well, almost anyone.
******
"EEE!EEEE!EEE!EEEEE!"
You slam your hand down on the alarm button and look at the time. It's 5am - an
hour before your normal hour to wake for training down at the gym. "Who the
heck messed with my clock?" you whisper out loud when your bedroom door swings
open. Your parents stand at the doorway in their pajamas, frowns on their
faces, arms folded over their chests.
"We did, [Y/N]," your father says with your mother explaining shortly after.
"[Y/N], sweetie, we noticed you've been slacking the last couple weeks. We've
been catching you sneaking chocolate chip cookies from the cookie jar. We see
you constantly updating your Facepage book..thing constantly -"
"It's FaceBook," you correct in a groggy voice.
"Whatever. You've been chatting with these girls from that high school down the
road...you know you're not suppose to have any friends yet. Not until you make
it to the championship. Those kids will only slow you down, hon."
"But, mom, I don't have ANY friends or even aquaintances! Do you know how
lonely it gets being the star of your town with no friends, being home-schooled
all your life and only focusing on gymnastics?" you wallow with your knees up
to your chest, hugging yourself.
"You don't want to compete anymore, pumpkin?" your dad asks worried.
"Of course I do! I love it! I never want to stop but....I just want to be a
normal teenage girl...I'm gonna be 18 in a few weeks," you say to your parents
who give each other a frown and then look back at you.
Your father sits on the edge of your bed, "We know you're turning 18 soon and
that's why your ma and I agreed it would be best that we hire you a coach to
help get you through these tough times."
Your head pops up in shock, offended, "A coach?! No, no I don't need one! I've
went through half my life without one, why do I need one now?"
"It's just to keep your head straight, to keep you going on the good path
you're on without distractions of friends and boys. You'll love him, he's very
disciplined, stern yet caring. Lance Tucker, the gymnist who won Gold and
Silver at the 2004 Olympics! Isn't that great, hon?" your mother smiles.
You jolt up from your bed, upset, "You already hired him?!"
"That's why we set your clock so early. He'll be waiting down at the gym to
start at 7 so get up, shower, dress and eat because we're all going together to
see him. Come on, scoot into that shower!" your father nudges you with joy in
his voice.
You shuffle your socked feet to the shower and want to cry because of the
betrayal of your parents. How could they hire a coach without talking it over
with you first? All you know is if he's as hard as your parents say, you can
win him over with your adorable charms and melt his heart like you did your
hometown.
********
You arrive at the gym dressed in your pink and white leotard and pink leg
warmers, hair in a a braided bun a top of your head. You enter the small run
down gym between your parents, a bit nervous to meet an actual Olympian. Lance
Tucker is standing in the small office off to the back of the gym on his cell
phone, reprimanding someone about what name brand shakes they should be
ordering him when he hears footsteps behind him. He ends the call and walks out
of the office seeing your parents' smiling faces and you walking between them,
a bit frightened. Lance is wearing a USA windbreaker suit: white t-shirt
underneath a red and white USA jacket with blue pants and white sneakers. His
hair is gelled up high, not a brown hair out of place, nothing in the way of
his steely blue eyes that look fierce and mean. A smile curls over his full
pink lips, accentuating his clean shaven square jawline that holds a perfect
cleft on his chin as he approaches you three.
"Well, well, this must be the little darling I've been hearing so much about,"
Lance stops in front of you and tilts his head down a little to meet your gaze.
He is two heads taller than you. His height alone is making you nervous.
Your father lends out his hand for a hearty handshake, "Mr. Tucker, it's a
pleasure to see you again."
Lance's eyes wander up and down your curvy frame, "The pleasure's all mine." 
Your mother shoves your body toward him, "This is our little angel, [Y/N].
She's very excited to meet you, Mr Tucker. [Y/N], say hello to the nice
Olympian."
You clutch your hands to the front of your body, shoulders so tense, they are
up to your ears. You are afraid to look at him in the eyes so you stay staring
at his clean white shoes. He's much too attractive to have as a coach, more
distracting than any boy you've ever met.
"H-hi, Mr. Tucker," you stammer.
Lance pats you on the shoulder, soothing your nerves, and gives you a toothy
smile, "Oh, we're a team now. You can call me Lance. We're going to be attached
at the hip the next few months so get use to being comfortable around me, [Y/
N]."
You force a giggle and try to loosen your shoulders a bit when Lance claps his
hands once and politely orders you, "All right, [Y/N], lets get started on the
bars. We're not wasting any more time chattin'. Mr and Mrs [Your last name]?
I'm sorry but it is time for you to go, you can come pick her up later. Right
now, we need some time to get to know each other. Pleasure seeing you again,
such a pleasure," he ushers your parents out the door and closes it, locking it
behind him. He watches you run and take flight into the air and grab hold of
the high bar, flipping and turning around the bar, light as air. He is
mesmorized by you as he watches your every swing and flip from bar to bar, his
hands on his waist, his face hard.
You swing off, somersault in the air and stick the landing, arms up above your
head. You smile at how much you impressed your new coach. "How was that,
Lance?" you stay in your pose.
He walks in front of you, hands still on his hips, eyes glaring at you. He
stares down at your binded chest then at your face, "How big are your breasts?"
"Huh?" you ask, face turning red. You lower your arms over your chest to cover
the flattened boobs.
"Your breasts. What's your bra size?"
"What does that have anything to do with my work, Lance?"
"It has everything to do with your work. And don't call me Lance. Call me Mr
Tucker or Coach Tucker. Back to formalities, princess. Now, what is your boob
size or am I gonna have to check myself?" he brings a hand around your back to
check your sports bra but you jump back in horror.
You shout, "36H!"
Lance's mouth drops in delight, "NO FUCKING WAY! Those," he points to your flat
chest, "are an H?! Those are big even for a woman in her 30s."
You hug yourself in embarrassment and look away from his face, "Y-yeah, I know.
I keep them binded so they don't ruin my routines. My mother thinks I should
get a reduction..."
Lance shakes his head, "Oh no. God gave you those because he knew you could
handle them, don't you dare get rid of them....not before I see them anyway." A
glint in his eye appeared after he said that, giving you a shiver down your
spine.
"What did you say?"
"I said 'get your shit together, [Y/N] or else you'll pay the consequences of
being a fuckin' loser all your life'!" he shouts in your face.
You jump at his tone and shake your head, "I don't like profanities, please."
Lance straightens up and looks at your incredulously, "Profanities? You don't
like cursing?"
You shake your head not meeting his gaze. Lance steps close to you, lowers his
head to your face and says calmly, "Fucking. Fuck. Shit. Asshole. Bitch.
Dick....cunt."
You gasp at the last word and a surge of heat rushes throughout your body and
down to your groin. 'What is this weird feeling?' you think to yourself as you
shoot him a look of shock.
"Mr Tucker, you are being very inappropriate," your voice is shaking.
"Am I, princess?" he walks around your body as he spews his speech, "Everyone
in this deadbeat hick town thinks you're the cutest thing since kittens. Well,
you know what? I don't. You think because you don't swear or drink or fuck
around with random dudes, you're self-righteousness will be contagious? Your
charming little girl act won't work on me. You're gonna work hard and train
hard." He stops in front of you and tilts his head to look down at you, "I'm
gonna be your new mother, father, best friend and fuck buddy all in one."
"F- buddy?" you ask, unsure.
Lance smirks and purses his lips out and straightens up again, "This is going
to be so much fun. Now get your ass back on those bars. Lets go!"
You briskly walk over to the bars and grab some powder to put on your hands.
You look at Coach Tucker standing at the end of the mats, his arms folded over
his chest as he watches you intensely. You walk up to the bars and clap the
excess powder off your hands when your eyes accidentally glance over the front
of his windbreaker pants. Lance Tucker has an erection pushing through the top
left part of his pants and you are the one causing it. You feel your leotard
get wet as you make the jump onto the first bar.
***********
***** A Valuable Lesson *****
Chapter Summary
     Coach Tucker begins to ask some very personal questions and
     thoughtfully gives you a gift.
After four hours of near non-stop training (Lance was so kind as to give you
fifteen minutes to eat a banana and use the toilet), you slide your back
against a wall farthest away from the office where Lance is on a conference
call with his supervisor, and plop your exhausted butt on the floor. You wipe
sweat from your forehead and watch him through the open blinds in the officce
window. He is pontificating and carrying on over the call, you can only hear
muffled shouts of whatever he's talking about. You begin to think to yourself
about the day and that feeling you had earlier while Lance was calmly cursing
in your face. That feeling of adrenaline and....tingles in your tummy, a warm
glow that travelled down your tummy into your private girl parts. Your mom and
dad never really explained sex or hormones to you, only that you got a period
once a month and grew breasts. The baby making parts you filled in yourself
with the help of the internet and library books. You've only kissed a boy once
in summer camp when you were 12 but no tongue, no touchy feely stuff. But there
is a strange fascination with wanting to be touched by a man....more
specifically, Lance Tucker.
You watch him from afar as he smoothes a hand over his gelled hair to calm
himself down, his back facing you. You study his body as best you can through
that red and white and blue outfit. From what you can tell, his ass is
perfectly sculpted, thighs are thick like tree trunks and you find his veiny
lower arms and hands to be extremely sexy. You can only imagine what the rest
of him looks like without clothes.
"HEY! Dumb ass! I've been calling you for five minutes already. Your parents
are outside waiting in the car," Lance walks over to you, annoyance on his face
as he picks up your duffle bag and leads you toward the door. You scurry to
your feet and follow close behind.
The moment the sunlight hits his grim face, his fake smile appears and a
chuckle emits from his mouth. He gleefully looks down at you at his side and
warns softly, "What happens in the gym, stays in the gym. Got it, princess?"
You look up at him with slight worry when he grits between teeth, "Smile now.
Pretend you had fun." You do as he says as he walks you to the back door to
your parents' car and opens it for you, slapping your ass as you bend over into
the car. Your parents did not see because they are too blind with excitement to
have Lance Tucker as their daughter's coach.
Lance leans into your father's window, "She did a bang-up job today. She's a
little aloof at times but I think I can set her straight. Work out all her
stress," Lance throws you a wink at the backseat. "Same time tomorrow morning,
[Y/N]," he points at you as he steps back and puts his shades on, "Get some
rest. You thought today was long, wait until tomorrow." Your father drives away
back home leaving you to think about what will happen tomorrow with Lance
making you feel both nervous and excited.
********
This morning, you decide to wear a leotard that wasn't so cutesy and pink. You
decide that since you're turning 18 soon, you should dress a little more like
an 18 year old. You pull on an all black leotard with mesh fabric all around
your torso below your binded breasts, exposing your toned abs and back muscles.
Your parents drop you off at the gym and speed off, leaving you to walk in on
your own. You enter the quiet gym and don't see Lance around. "Lance?" you
meekly call out to the response of your own echo. You shrug your shoulders and
drop your bag down and begin to stretch. You go into several yoga positions to
stretch each tendon and muscle. Once you hit the 'downward dog' pose where
you're on all fours and butt up in the air, that's when you hear him call from
afar.
Lance sucks in a long breath and exhales as he approaches you, wearing a blue
jacket, white tshirt and blue jeans, "Such a limber little girl.."
You are startled as you stand up and face him, fake confidence on your face,
"I'm not a little girl. I'll be 18 in a couple weeks."
Lance stands in front of you, eyebrow raised, "17, eh? Barely legal..." he
smirks.
"What?"
Lance walks a few steps away to the pommel horse and leans against it, arms
folded over his chest, "Have you ever kissed a guy before, princess?"
You have to think about it for a second (out of nerves, you suppose), "Of
course I have."
"Okay, that's good. Have you ever fucked a guy before?" he asks so coldly and
invasive, glaring at you as he awaits your answer.
You fidget with your fingers in front of you and shudder, "Um, no!...I'm
waiting for marriage."
Lance tilts his head slightly to the right and asks, "Have you ever even seen a
dick before, [Y/N]?"
You choke on your breath and cough, "I, uh, have, yes."
"When?" still staring into your soul not budging.
"If you must know at a family reunion. Cousin Billy and I were playing doctor
when he showed me his....thing to inspect for bugs," as you are saying this,
you want to kick your own ass for sounding so unbelievably childish.
"Cousin? Gross. How old were you?"
".......9."
"Oh for fuck's sake. Come here," Lance motions you over to him, you quickly
scuttle over. He moves away from the pommel horse and, without warning, picks
you up and places your butt on it.
"Now," Lance sighs as he looks at your face, you are both on the same height
level, he steps between your legs, "You're telling me that you haven't seen or
touched a guy's dick since you were a kid?"
Your breath hitches, "Yes."
Lance looks down at your leotard and the hiding folds between your thighs,
"Answer me this, cupcake. Do you touch yourself?"
You nearly fall backward off the pommel horse with shock at his question but he
catches your arm. "WHAT?"
He gets closer to your body, his warmth radiating onto yours as he says next to
your ear, "Do you ever touch yourself at night? In the shower, maybe? Your hand
making it's way slowly down your belly, between your thighs, into your little
throbbing..." he pauses, listening to your erratic breathing, ".....cunt."
You let out a small moan and quickly cover your mouth, your body betraying you.
Lance smiles as he steps back and walks toward the office, "I know you don't do
any of that "dirty" stuff, princess. You're too repressed and THAT is why you
are lucky to have me." He disappears into the office, leaving you sitting there
and resurfaces with a gift bag in hand.
You hop off the horse as he approaches you with a big smile, presenting you
with it, "This is for you, my dear. A little gift for your hard work and
dedication. It'll help you to relieve stress and worry. I think you'll like
it."
Your face lights up, "Thank you, Coach! This is really sweet of you." You take
it about to look inside, he stops you.
"Tut, tut! Not now. You take that home with you and call me when you open it. I
want to hear a thank you when you do. Right now, we work. Get up there and show
me what you got, princess," he claps his hands to work you into a frenzy.
Throughout the day, you took the verbal beatings from Lance and tried your best
to keep him happy-which, in of itself, was hard. You survived another day
without passing out though and glad it was over. Your parents pick you up
afterward and you could hardly wait to get home to see the gift Lance bought
you. You made sure to do all your chores and spend time with your folks before
running to the shower, pull on your Smiley face night shirt and sit on your bed
with the gift bag. You excitedly pull out the box with a nice red/white/blue
bow on top from inside the bag and become giddy.
'Maybe it's a medal. Maybe it's a little trophy,' you think to yourself as you
pull off the bow, open the lid of the box and throw it to the floor with a
disgusted squeal. You cover your mouth with your hands as your parents call
out, "You ok, sweetheart?"
You cringe, rush up to lock your door and yell back, "Uh, yeah! I just saw a
mouse..it's gone now."
You slowly walk over to the thrown gift on the floor and stare at it. It is a
pink 6 inch vibrator. You become incensed and pick up your cell phone and
dialed Lance with fury. One ring, two rings, then an answer, "You've opened
your gift." You can hear him smiling on the other end with pride.
"You listen to me, Coach Tucker. That is no gift to give to a girl!" you try to
lower your voice.
"But it's pink, your favorite color."
"This is not funny!" you say seething with anger when he interrupts scaring you
over the phone.
"The polite thing to say is 'thank you'. And that gift, my dear, is what's
going to save your performances. So USE IT!"
"NO!" you yell into your phone.
You can hear him grit his teeth, "So help me God, if you don't use that thing
right now, I will knock on your window and make you. Your windows are with the
purple drapes, right?"
You perk up and dart your eyes to your window, "How do you know what color
drapes I have?"
"Because I'm sitting in my car, watching you," he laughs into the ear piece and
his tone gets dark, "now use it or else I'll get out of this car, climb through
your window and do it myself."
You don't know what to do, you've never had a vibrator before -let alone
someone WATCH you doing it. "But...I don't know how.." You step in front of
your window and see Lance's car ten feet away, sitting in the dark car.
Lance leans forward, resting his elbows on the steering wheel as he watches
you, "Stand right there so I can see you doing it correctly...now...twist the
bottom of the toy and it'll go on..do it."
You stand in front of the window and turn the toy on, the buzzing startles you.
"Good girl...now....I want you to rest your foot on something off the floor,
give you good leverage. Go on..." he calmly orders you.
You lift your right leg onto a stack of textbooks, "Ok.."
Lance licks his lips and gives you the final instructions, "Place it to your
clit...see what happens..and dont you hang up the phone."
You slowly bring the vibrator to your clit and the powerful buzz surprises you.
Your body jolts as he hear him on the other end, "Don't you fucking stop..leave
it on there." You keep it at your swollen clit as you try to keep balance. Your
mouth making small whimpering sounds.
Lance, in his car, has you on speaker phone as he releases his hard erection,
puts on a bit of lube he keeps in the glove compartment and slowly moves his
hand up and down his shaft, watching and listening to your whimpers on speaker
phone. "Keep going, princess...don't stop until you feel it..." he pumps
faster.
Your hips begin to gyrate into the toy, a feeling you've never felt before, you
start bucking into your own hand, your whimperings becoming moans of pleasure,
"Oh...OH!.....Oh God..." you bite your lower lip. Lance watches and pumps his
fist harder down his shaft and says, "Come on, princess...let all that
repression go...let me see you....I wanna see you cum..."
When Coach Tucker said the word 'cum', you lost your fucking mind and came so
hard and so loud, your body trembles before falling to the floor in a hot mess.
Lance shot up a load into the ceiling of the car and moaned, collapsing forward
over the steering wheel, spent.
Your hand still clutching the phone, you sit up, out of breath, "H-hello? D-Did
I do it right?" you ask still looking for acceptance.
You hear heavy breathing then, "Your homework is to use that every night before
bed.. I'll see you in 7 hours."
You stand up and watch Lance's car back up and skid away into the dark road.
A broad smile forms over your face.
***** Happy Birthday *****
Chapter Summary
     "So have you got the guts?
     Been wondering if your heart's still open and if so I wanna know what
     time it shuts
     Simmer down and pucker up
     I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of
     trying to kiss you
     I don't know if you feel the same as I do
     But we could be together if you wanted to..."
     "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys
Chapter Notes
     Highly recommend listening to "Do I Wanna Know?" by Arctic Monkeys
     when the scene pops up. The beat and bass alone (not just the sexy
     lyrics) set the mood NICELY.
     (And, yes, I did use lines from "The Bronze" lol)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Weeks have passed and your training has been strenuous and difficult. The
difficult part of the training wasn't the long hours of constant tumbles or
flips in the air or work on the bars. It was staying focused on your routine
and not thinking about Coach Tucker fucking you in every possible sex position
known to mankind. Since that night you masturbated in front of your bedroom
window with Lance watching, you couldn't stop fantasizing about him. You keep
trying to analyze your feelings about him: he's a complete asshole, he isn't
nice, he's rude and blunt and mean and demeaning. One thing's for sure, though,
when Lance gives you that look of cold hard steely blue eyes that have fire
behind them that intimidates you, your vaginal muscles twitch and clench close.
You feel this sudden urge to rip off your leotard or tights or whatever you're
wearing that day and just present yourself to him, naked, make him happy. Make
him see you are not a little girl or a princess, but a woman. And you know the
perfect time to show him what you are truly made of.
*******
Today is your 18th birthday and you could not be more excited. You quickly
dress in a red bodysuit and short shorts and climb into the back of your
parents' car so they can drive you to the gym for practice. Your mother turns
around to see you, "Ok, hon, the dinner is all set. We're having the family
dinner at Fajita Sunrise, everyone is coming: Uncle Ted, Grandma Lily, Cousin
Bo and Darryl, Sofia and Ed, Billy and Pressley. We've even invited Coach
Tucker!"
"You WHAT?!" you scream, not intending to sound so offended. Your parents jump,
they've never heard you raise your voice like that before.
"Why? He's your coach and you're turning 18! It's the least we can do
considering all he's done for you," your father chimes in.
"He declined the invitation, right?"
"Oh, no, he was the first person to RSVP. Isn't that nice? Oh, everyone is
going to love him! We are so lucky to have him!" your mother boasts, carrying
on as you sink deeper and deeper into the back seat, already embarrassed about
Lance meeting your weird little family. You try to think fast and come up with
a plan to get you out of your party early.
"I'm meeting Jenny at the Piggly Wiggly at 9!" you blurt out the lie. Jenny is
a friend you met at gymnastics camp when you were 10, probably the only friend
you had and barely spoke to but your parents didn't know that.
"Oh?" your mother asks a bit disappointed.
Your father lets you off the hook, "Let her go, Janice. It's her 18th birthday.
She should be celebrating with friends.."
"Oh, all right, fine," your mother huffs and puffs to herself not wanting to
accept the fact that you're growing up.
As you sit in the backseat, your brain formulates a plan of escape but, also, a
plan of seduction...
Once at the gym, you plop your duffle bag down and begin stretching. Lance
walks into the gym from inside the office, a pink frosted cupcake with one lit
candle on top. You stand up with a giddy smile and hop up and down, "Oh my God!
For me?!"
Lance smiles as he brandishes the pink cupcake in front of you, "Happy
birthday, [Y/N]. Make a wish."
You close your eyes and blow out the candle, clapping your hands. "Thank you,
Coach." Lance passes it to you but purposely drops it on the floor, frosting
side down landing at your feet.
"Oops." Is all he says as he watches your happy expression turn sad, "You don't
eat that shit. Not even on your birthday, you moron! Olympians don't eat
cupcakes! We eat bowls and bowls of Wheaties and grains and sticks and water to
maintain our figure - male or female! Remember that." Lance walks away and
orders you on the pommel horse then spins around.
"Oh, and if I have to spend an hour with your corn-fed, inbred family members
tonight, you better give me 110% of your fucking effort. No slacking...or
you'll be punished," his eyes narrow as the last four words leave his lips,
sending goosebumps all over your body.
Four hours later, you fall back onto the blue mats, exhausted. Lance kneels
down beside you and smiles, "I see someone has been doing her homework."
You catch your breath, "How do you know?"
"Because I can tell in your form and landings that you seem more....relaxed,"
Lance smirks down at you as his eyes wash over your body and back at your eyes.
You want him. You want Lance to climb on top of you, tear off your tights and
fuck you like an animal. You want him to make you his bitch, have his way with
you. You need him inside you. Lance bites down on his bottom lip watching your
binded chest move up and down when a car horn honks outside, startling the both
of you. You jump up and bend over to grab your duffle bag when Lance slaps your
ass hard, echoing the smack throughout the gym. You didn't flinch, it hurt and
you liked it.
Lance walks toward the office but doesn't turn around, "I'll see you at your
lame ass party tonight."
*********
At Fajita Sunrise, you are squished between your cousin Billy and Uncle Ted as
family all around the table take photos of you dressed in what your mother MADE
you specially for your 18th birthday: a bright pink maxi dress that falls all
the way down to your toes. The most unflattering thing you've ever worn that
makes you look like a long rectangular box. But you couldn't say no, she worked
so hard on it. The party's focus quickly changed from you to Lance Tucker once
he arrived. Lance was pleasant to your family. He took photos with them, signed
autographs, listened to embarrassing stories about you. You are sitting at one
end of the long table from Lance as cousin Bo talks his ear off when you pick
up your cell phone and see it's 8:30 and text Lance:
"Meet me at Stetson's next to the Piggly Wiggly at 9."
Sent.
You watch him across the table as he kindly stops your cousin midsentence to
check his phone. His brows furrow as he reads your text then looks up at you.
Your heart is beating fast, what will his answer be?
Lance gives you a silent head nod and turns on the ol' charm with your cousin,
announcing loudly that he must leave. You can't feel your arms, he's actually
going to meet you at the bar at 9. You feel faint as you casually watch him
leave the restaraunt and wait fifteen minutes to leave your own party.
*******
You take the bus to the Piggly Wiggly where you had a worker whom is good
friends with your cousins to hold your duffle bag filled with your night time
clothes. You get dressed in the staff rest room of the Piggly Wiggly and make
sure you look perfect. You are wearing a tight low cut black wrap-around dress
that reached mid-thigh and red high heels. Your 36H breasts are no longer
binded so your breasts are perky and round - making your hour-glass shape come
to life. Your hair is loose and your makeup is on point as you thank your
friend and walk next door to the bar, Stetson's, where Lance is suppose to be
waiting.
As if on cue, you open the door to Stetson's to the song "Do I Wanna Know?" by
Arctic Monkeys. You sway your hips to the brash bassy beat when you spot Lance
look up from his glass at the bar, his hardened face falls to disbelief. You
lick your red lips as you saunter your way over to Lance. It feels like you're
walking in slow motion as everyone stops what they're doing to look over at
your sexy stride as you keep your sultry eye contact with Lance. You don't know
where this confidence came from but you are SLAYING it. You give him a small
smile as you sit on the stool next to him and cross your legs, hiking your
tight dress up your thigh further. "Hi," you say, breathlessly as you flip your
hair.
A smile curls up on one end of Lance's mouth, he leans his elbow on the bar and
takes a drink from his glass. Lance's eyes glance at your bountiful cleavage
with a smile, "I see you got your Dream Killers on display tonight...you look
good." He bites his lower lip as his foot drags your stool closer to him, your
small frame now in between his knees. You can smell his cologne; the subtle
scent of sandalwood and leather.
"Thank you," you grab his glass of scotch and drink the last of it, not showing
how terribly disgusted you are at the taste. He raises his brows in surprise,
"Wow...First time drinking and you wolf down scotch. I'm impressed." He tilts
his head to the side to take in all of your body, "So, what is so important
that you escape your own birthday party to secretly meet me in a bar?"
The quick intoxication of the scotch overtakes your brain and makes your head
fuzzy but still confident, "I want you to see me as an adult.....I'm no longer
a child."
Lance chuckles, "You're not an adult..you're jail bait...." he leans close to
your ear, "I love jail bait..." his right hand snakes up your inner thigh and
push its way through to your wet slit. He fingers the outside of your panties.
"Do you wanna be Daddy's lil Jail Bait?"
You gasp and let out a small whine, "..yes."
Lance's other hand grabs a fistful of your hair and snaps your head back and
whispers into your ear, "Say it...say you wanna be Daddy's lil Jail Bait."
"I wanna be Daddy's lil Jail Bait, please.." you squeak out when a man's voice
calls out, interrupting your intensely sexually charged moment.
"HEY, BUDDY! GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER!" a big round man approaches Lance.
Lance waves him off with the hand that was teasing your folds, "Waddle back
over to your booth, old man."
The man put his hand on Lance's shoulder, "What did you say, Fucker?!"
Lance jumps off his stool and punches the big man in the stomach, knocking the
wind out of him, and kicks him to the floor, "You heard what I said....and the
name's Tucker. Lance Tucker, asshole." He kicks him once more for good measure
as he pulls you off your bar stool and briskly walks you out the bar toward his
car.
Your adrenaline racing, your panties soaked, you need to feel him now. As Lance
unlocks the back door to his car, you tap him on the shoulder and he turns
around. You hop up to hook your arms around his neck and pull his head down,
smashing your lips onto his. His arms wrap around your waist as he continues to
unlock the door with you hanging onto his neck like a monkey. He keeps kissing
you as he opens the door, pulls you off him and pushes you backward into the
back seat, slamming the door. Lance quickly walks around the car and gets into
the driver's seat and looks at you from the rear view mirror.
You compose yourself, confused, "Where are we going?"
"To train..." he smiles and puts the petal to the metal and skids away toward
the gym.
*******
Chapter End Notes
     Thanks for all the wonderful feedback, guys! LOVE U LOTS!
     Chapter 4 (and finale) coming soon!
***** Training *****
Chapter Summary
     A surprise training session at the gym. Bondage. Pommel Horse and a
     protein shake.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
The car pulls up to the front of the gym, Lance smoothly gets out of the car to
open the backdoor for you. Without warning, he pulls you by your upper arm and
practically yanks you out. "OW!" you shout as he shuffles you on your high
heels toward the gym doors. He uses the spare set of keys to open the doors and
turn on the bright lights in the gym.
You stand by the door, anxiously watching as Lance walks to the back office to
retrieve something. He comes back with a roll of sports tape in his hand and
orders you, sternly, "Go to the rings."
"What? Why do you have a roll of tape?" your voice is shaky, your 'grown-ass
woman' confidence is dwindling. All he does is point to the rings across the
gym with tight lips and flared nostrils. You jog in your heels to the rings
hanging from the ceiling and stand underneath them, arms folded over your busty
chest. "Ok...now what?"
"We're gonna train, like I said," he steps in front of you and smiles down at
you, deviously, "Now, grab 'em."
Confused and totally turned off from your kiss just a few moments ago, you did
as he said and hopped up, grabbing a ring in each hand, holding your body
weight up. Lance proceeds to tape your wrists and hands to the rings like he is
wrapping a Christmas gift haphazardly. "HEY! W-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
you shout down at him.
Lance stands in front of you, now looking to your hips that are eye level with
his arms at his sides and explains, "One of the key elements to becoming a
successful Olympian is endurance. Endurance comes from within, you have to own
your power and learn to control it no matter the odds, no matter the cost.
Lift," he says as you lift your legs up straight in front of your body,
pointing your heeled feet out toward his chest. You struggle with your weight
(and the tape wrapped around your hands) as Lance approaches your feet,
bringing his hands to your feet, parting your legs and slowly pulling down your
hot pink lace thong. You panic, "Wh - ?"
"Sssh. Don't break form. You're doing good, princess," he says gently as he
removes your thong and meets your desperate eyes, "In order to gain better
self-control, you must practice." Lance steps between your bare open thighs,
hiking up your dress to your waist and resting your thighs on each of his broad
shoulders - his face close to your wet folds, you can feel him breathing on
you.
You wriggle on the rings and bite your lip, "Wait...what's happening? What are
you doing, Lance?" knowing full well what is about to do, but your head is
swimming in a fog of rushing sexual desires coming true.
"I'm about to lick your sweet little pussy and you better not cum, princess. If
you do, you will have to face the consequences," his fingers dig into your ass
cheeks as he says, "Don't you dare cum on Daddy's face - if you do, you fail
the training." Lance brings his face into your folds and licks his tongue one
agonizingly slow lick up your slit to your clit. Your whole body shudders as
you whimper. He laps up your slit again and darts his long tongue into your
hole quickly. You whimper again and try concentrating on not having an orgasm.
Lance picks up the pace of his tongue and slaps your ass cheek as he begins
eating you out with ferver. You use the leverage of the rings to buck your hips
closer to his face as you yelp and moan with this new hot sensation all
throughout your body. You think you have it under control. That is until Lance
clamps his lips around your swollen clit and begins humming the National Anthem
loudly into your pussy. You lost your mind and came fast and hard - screaming
like you've never heard yourself scream before, using a word you've never used
before. "FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
Lance pulled his head out from between your legs and looks up at you, anger in
his eyes, mouth glistening from your juices, "You weak little bitch." He
quickly pulls out a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and cuts your wrists down
from the rings, placing your body over his shoulder, carrying you over to the
pommel horse and placing you on your tummy, bending you over the horse, with
your dress still around your waist. Lance takes out one of his gold medals from
the 2004 Olympics from his pocket then rips off his blue windbreaker pants and
pulls off his jacket and shirt, leaving his white sneakers still on. He walks
up to your bare ass and uses the red, white and blue ribbon of the medal to
whip your ass cheek with. You yelp out in surprise but suddenly giggle making
Lance stop after three harsh whips. "You think this is funny, princess?"
You can feel the tip of his hard dick on your other ass cheek, "Not at all,
Coach."
Lance only becomes more angry and gives you a lashing after each word, "I
*WHIP* said *WHIP* call *WHIP* me *WHIP* DADDY! *WHIP*"
You can't take it any longer, you scream in what it sounds like someone else's
voice, "PUNISH ME, DADDY! I NEED TO BE PUNISHED!"
Lance whips you one more time before spitting on his hand, rubbing his cock and
plunging it into your wet hole from behind. You shriek in pain as he grabs your
hips and plunges in and out of you with speed and force. He grunts out,
"Daddy's sweet little princess isn't a virgin anymore..." pumps into you with
more force, "Daddy's princess is a dirty little slut...right, baby girl? Tell
me what you are..."
Your whole body is convulsing around his cock as he repeatedly slams you into
the pommel horse, "I-I'm Daddy's dirty little slut...oh, fuck! FUCK! FUCK!"
"Filthy little mouth, you have....you need to wash your mouth out with Daddy's
special protein shake...." Lance pulls out of you, spins you around and slams
you to your knees, ordering you with his cock in his hand, "take off that
dress."
You pull it up off with the quickness, revealing your pink lacey bra. Lance
bites his lower lip, "I wanna see your tits." You practically rip it off your
shoulders, letting your big breasts fall out. Lance stares at your exposed
breasts, biting his lip and pumps his stiff dick.
"AH! Open your mouth and drink your protein, princess," Lance grabs the back of
your head and pulls you in toward his purple dick.
"Yes, Daddy," you take him into your mouth just as his orgasm hits, spewing hot
cum on your lips and into your wet mouth, pumping his hips into your face.
"Aaaahh.....sssssssssssssshhhiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" Lance spits as you suck every
last drop from his cock, swallowing it with pleasure.
You keep your mouth clamped around it until he is limp and you release it from
your mouth with a popping sound.
You stand up on your heels, wiping your mouth, naked, looking down at an
exhausted Lance. His left arm is covering his eyes as his muscular chest
heaves.
"You're fired, Lance."
He uncovers his eyes and shoots up into sitting position, "Excuse me?"
You pick up your dress and put it on, "You heard me. You're fired. I no longer
need a coach."
Lance jumps up and grabs your upper arm, yanking you, "What the fuck do you
mean you don't need a coach anymore?"
"I don't want you to be my coach. I just want you to fuck me when I need it.
You being my coach is distracting me from what I was born to do. I was born to
win and with you being here, intimidating me, all I ever want to do is fuck
you. You'll ruin my chances at the games. So, I have to let you go."
Lance stands there in nothing but his white socks and sneakers, hand still
gripping your arm and it loosens. A smile slowly curls over his lips and a
twinkle in his eye sparks true happiness for him for the first time. "THOSE are
the words of a true champion in the making. That is endurance, [Y/N]."
You smile, proudly at yourself as Lance pulls you in with his strong arms, his
hands resting on your hips as he looks down at you, "I'll step down as your
coach so long as you promise that I will be the ONLY one to fuck you any time I
want, whenever I want and whenever you need me."
You nod up at him, "Of course."
"That's what Daddy likes to hear," Lance tilts his head down and kisses your
lips smacking your ass with both hands, hard.
Chapter End Notes
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