The Fight I Could Never Win Ch. 03

Going for a nice, normal run and allowing myself to rest yesterday seemed to have had a generally calming effect, even managing to wipe away some of the crushing leftovers from the day before. I felt fairly revived, although the ominous truths surrounding my mysterious oppressor continued to gnaw at the back of my mind. Fortunately, mental gnawing was something I knew how to handle.

After a long training session, my body comfortably exhausted, I made my way to the locker room, looking forward to dinner and a solid night's sleep. The shower was, as always, an exquisite sensation. Pouring hot water on oneself somehow never lost its appeal, regardless of repetition. In the clean, revived mood that only clean clothes immediately after a bit of water can provide, I walked outside and made for my apartment, two blocks away.

The sun was out for the first time in a while, although the air was still cool enough to make some sort of coat a necessity. Normally, the sun would have been nothing out of the ordinary. In this case, it served a simple purpose: it created a shadow. The disappearance of the sun from my back somehow felt just a little more chilly than it should have. Unfortunately, my intuition was right. I didn't even need to turn around.

"You look like you have a minute to spare for a lovely lady, don't you, Champ?"

The deliberate, dripping mockery of the last word, even more so than the chillingly melodic, smooth quality of the voice, made the identity of the speaker all too clear. I slowed, stood still, and balled up my fists tightly enough to hurt my palms. Just her presence made me furious, driving me mad with a desire to redeem my lost pride. It took a tremendous amount of willpower to stop myself from attacking her again, but I knew all too well what consequences that could have.

"You. What do you want now?"

"When you say that, it's almost as if you weren't happy to see me. I know that's not true, right?"

The now-familiar icy laugh made it all too clear that I was expected to do more than just cooperate. The notion crossed my mind that she truly enjoyed watching me compromise my pride, dismantle myself out of helplessness, all at her command, crossed my mind. I had seen sadism before, but she was something totally outside my experience. As if to prove my theory, a cold point introduced itself to the small of my back, right over the kidney.

"I won't use this. I don't need it. You'll do exactly as I say even if I don't so much as touch you. Even so, it's fun to use a little teaching aid from time to time. Don't mind me, love- keep walking."

She was practically whispering into my ear, luscious syllables floating into my mind- largely thanks to the fact that she was pressing her body against my back, one hand on my chest. Something about this reminded me of the fatal embrace of a snake. The metaphor seemed to fit alarmingly well.

Largely to avoid saying something dangerous, I kept my mouth shut and continued my walk home, the two of us joined in a bizarre parody of an affectionate, contact-happy couple. After what might as well have been a leisurely marathon, I reached the familiar door, and found myself alone with her in the elevator. Never before had I felt so unlucky to live on the thirty-fourth floor.

When the doors closed, the knife left my back. This somehow seemed like an invitation to turn around. The leather coat she wore this time was a bit less bulky than most of what I had seen her wear, doing more than a little to display an impressively curved waist. Another pair of fairly loose, heavy pants didn't even try to conceal the kind of hips that can only come from a lucky combination of genetics and muscle development. She was undeniably powerfully built, especially for a woman, but that did nothing to counter the intensely feminine lines of her figure. Broad shoulders or not, she was alluring in a truly unignorable way. In fact, oddly enough, the unorthodox details of her physique might have added to the overall impression, not detracted.

.A razor-sharp voice, veiled in feigned velvet ignorance, broke my reverie.

"Hmmm... now, why might you be so intently interested in my wardrobe planning? Or were you perhaps feeling just a little perverted, letting your eyes roam so freely over a woman's body?"

I had completely failed to notice that I was staring. Terrifying as the owner may have been, legs like that were not something that any heterosexual man with a shred of sex drive could possibly ignore. That said, she was now casually twirling a knife in one gloved hand, nonchalantly leaning on the elevator wall and leering like a wolf from beneath the omnipresent dark glasses. This all set a slightly different tone than most of the other times I had found myself staring at a woman's legs. A long braid draped over one shoulder did absolutely nothing to dilute her downright predatory expression, which was pointed at me like the barrel of a gun. I realized that I had to say something, and fast. She was more than capable of doing me severe bodily harm, and any retaliation would earn me the wrath of one of the nation's most feared crime syndicates. Even if neither of those things applied, the situation clearly called for an attempt at diplomacy.

"I... I-"

"You don't seriously think you have the right to just feast your eyes like that, do you? One warning, for now. You're fine, love. It looks nice, though, doesn't it?"

Her grin gained another level of menace. I was walking on a razor's edge. There may well be no right answer to this question. Well, nothing for it...

"It... yes. I can't help it, it's hard not to look."

"And why exactly is that? By all means, be specific."

I was firmly caught in the spider's web, and I knew it. My only hope was to remain as courteous as possible and try not to make a misstep. Taking a deep breath and even further averting my eyes, I attempted to grit out a satisfactory answer. This was not an action conducive to maintaining one's pride. If anything, it was quite the opposite. I could feel a little bit of my self-respect evaporate with every obedient thought- especially the idea that this constituted obedience in the first place. That alien concept sent a tiny shiver through me, one that I could almost have pretended did not happen.

"I apologize. I couldn't- couldn't help looking, your legs are just-"

Grinning even wider, glossy lips baring brilliantly white teeth, she advanced across the small box in one smooth motion. In an instant, her body was pressed against my chest and my back against the wall, our faces no more than an inch apart as she smoothly brought the shining edge of her blade to my throat. I could feel the heat of her breath with every hypnotic, poison-dripping word.

"Yes, just what are my legs?"

A merciless pause, just long enough to throw me further off guard but just short enough to prevent any real response. The next words came slowly, unhurriedly. She apparently enjoyed playing with her food.

"How does all of this make you feel? I would just love to hear. Of course, I already know full well, but you're going to tell me anyway. Go ahead, you have my full attention."

This wasn't so much speech as the purr of a cat satisfied by its trapped prey. I had no escape. There was only one true answer. Shameful as it was, a small tremor made its way down my back and legs. My mouth wobbled as I attempted to choke out a response. This was ridiculous. I had stood steady in many situations just as deadly and confusing as this. What about her could break me down so easily? I had seen legs before, objectively just as enticing as hers. To boot, I had seen plenty of extremely dangerous women in my time. In theory, nothing about this was new. In theory. In spite of this common sense, something about her rendered my defenses totally useless.

Ding. The elevator doors opened. My knees went momentarily weak from relief: I was, quite literally, saved by the bell. Moving as lightly and gracefully as a hunting snake, she stepped back, releasing me from her perilous embrace.

"This is where you live, isn't it? Naturally, you're planning to invite me in."

I couldn't help but think to myself that my invitation and consent did not have so much as a scrap of relevance here, but she seemed to get some sort of pleasure from manipulating me into formalities like this. I hated myself with every step. I wanted redemption, I wanted to fight, I wanted to retaliate. Even simply running would feel better than simply letting myself stay under her influence. This sort of casual intrusion was, under the circumstances, enough to make me want to vomit, but I noticed once again that obedience had become less of a concession than a habit. That realization became even more disturbing when I opened the door and heard myself invite her in, even holding it open for her.

Her smirk walking into my own home was enough to make my grit my teeth hard- so much so that I was sure she could hear it. Unnerving as that was, I was helpless to take my eyes away from the view in front of me. The sensual movement of her hips introduced quite a few emotions, none of which were remotely in line with the somewhat perilous reality of the situation. Without so much as turning around, she brought me, at least partially, back to earth.

"You haven't so much as asked why I'm here. Are you really enjoying your perversion that much?"

For some reason, she seemed to be casually toying with my wooden desk chair, lining it up to some unseen point while continuing my interrogation. Why she felt the need to have a plain wood chair in a specific location was utterly beyond me. Before I could answer, she interjected again.

"You really are an awful host. Not even offering to take a lady's coat... my, that's just pathetic."

I didn't even need to see the sneer. The scorn dripping from her mockingly musical voice was more than enough. Her tone was slightly lower than an average woman, making her speech sound like more of a low, confident purr than anything else, tinged with a clear note of haughty disdain. I caught the coat that was tossed in my direction without so much as a glance, setting it on a nearby table and hoping that that was adequately hospitable. I felt hopelessly emasculated taking commands this readily. Most of the time I didn't even bother with a second thought. That truly scared me.

Disgusted with myself as I was, I instinctively froze, not so much as turning around, when she started up again in a more businesslike tone.

"You're going to fight for me again. This time, you'll win. You're going to defeat Johann Olson."

I coughed out of sheer disbelief. The Swede was one of the most famous fighters outside the boosted circuits, essentially a sure win against all but the best opponents. I was good, but not that good. Not even close. I lost a good deal of my accumulated restraint.

"How the hell do you expect me to do that? Losing to an idiot is one thing, but Olson is out of my damn league. You know that as well as I do."

"You're going to win. We have ways of getting Olson softened up a little. That's not the part that matters, though. Not at all, love. I'll tell you exactly how you're going to win. Have a seat."

I heard something building in her voice, like a deadly weapon charging up for a lethal blast. I was not wrong.

In an explosive burst of physical power, I was pulled back by the collar of my shirt into the waiting chair. I hit the seat hard enough to cause a fair bit of pain, grunting with the unexpected impact. Normally, I would have leapt back up, ready to annihilate whoever the threat was. In this case, I knew better, somehow seeing through the rush of adrenaline. I sat still, breathing hard but restraining myself.

Looking up, I was, to my pleasant surprise, granted a spectacular view. Walking away from me, she provided a clearer view of her impressive body than I had ever seen before. Logic and reason evaporated when confronted with her hips. Cargo pants and sturdy combat boots did nothing to disguise the length of her legs. Everything bulged with muscle, but remained just as alluring as a more conventional figure, if not more so.

Stunning as her legs were, my eyes were drawn a little further up. The natural, muscular curves of the back are a wonderful thing. So is a slender, curved waist. She had both. I had managed not to notice these facts because of her fairly bulky coats. She was not wearing a coat. The removal of her leather jacket had brought a functionally skintight white tank top into vision. Not only was her torso alluringly tapered, the effect was amplified by powerfully developed back muscles. This was a body that could perform pull-ups more or less indefinitely. Her shoulders and arms told a similar story, far more developed than those of an ordinary female athlete, but still absolutely those of a woman.

Just as I felt my mouth fall open, she turned around with a downright chilling laugh. Not bothering with words, she cleared the distance between us with two paces, the same demonic grin aimed at me, point-blank.

"Hands together, behind your back. Wrists crossed. Keep them there. I would strongly recommend that you follow my advice."

Now that she was back to giving orders, it was immediately obvious that she was deadly serious. I crossed my hands behind the back of the chair. The pressure on my back and shoulders as the relevant muscles were forced to compress against themselves was undeniably uncomfortable, but the compulsion of her commands won out. The second I realized that, my heart fell out from under me once more. Seeing myself as an indomitable male power was rapidly becoming a weak charade. Shame flooded my mind even more, but it was instantly washed aside by another, far more powerful emotion.

"Very good. I do so enjoy your obedience."

Without a single warning, she brought her leg in a glorious, arching step over my own thighs, effortlessly tossing her head back at the same time. Her body seemed to move in a perfect, clean arc, flowing through space as naturally as the flight of a bird. With one incredibly fluid motion, she straddled my hips, pressing her impossibly warm crotch hard against mine. One gloved hand held my chin, tilting it back to see my reflection in her shaded eyes. The forceful pressure of her chest against mine accelerated my pulse instantaneously. Intense as that sensation was, her hips against my crotch were more than I could possibly bear.

I sunk to a new level of despair as I felt an unmistakable hotness and hardness fill my pants. I was so painfully erect that every racing heartbeat forced a twitch down my entire length. She was clearly aware of this, licking her lips and forcefully gyrating her hips against mine. I clenched my teeth hard, my fingernails digging deep into my palms as I frantically held my hands behind me, helpless to the overpowering heat and pressure of her body.

I could feel my manhood desperately, agonizingly straining against its cloth prison. I was harder than I had ever been in my life, heightened sensitivity turning every tiny movement into a full-body earthquake. My breathing deepened, huge volumes of air impatiently rushing in and out of my wide-open mouth. Like an unholy overture, her laugh rang out with terrifying clarity over my torment.

"This, my dear, is why you will win for me. You know exactly why. You know that you will do absolutely anything for more. Quite simply, you're addicted. Do you have any idea how easy this is for me? I'm not... even... trying."

These last words were accented by deeper presses into my tortured, tantalized crotch. My entire body was on fire with lust. The combination of arousal and the bitter, bitter self-hatred that came with it slowly filled my eyes with water, blurring my vision. As hot tears of frustration and anger rolled down my face, her voice, which had by now taken on the melodic power of a masterpiece sonata composed in the darkest, most sinful depths of hell, stroking my libido with every luscious syllable, teasing my enthralled mind with each purred word, once again strode uninvited into my ears.

"I can feel how badly you want me right now. That must be simply awful. You're completely, utterly helpless, and you know that part of you loves it. Not once in your life have you ever felt anything this powerful. It's obvious. You want to try to use that thing more than you could possibly imagine."

She was right. I hated her for it. I hated myself for it. Every word was true. I would have sold my soul for a single touch. My entire being was nothing more than her puppet. Every velvet word pulled a string, effortlessly proving her total control of my body.

"It's simple, love. All you have to do is win. The adrenaline shots we give you won't matter. The boosters won't matter. You won't even care that it's against the rules. You won't think twice about getting caught. You won't bother to question for a second that I have the entire situation in the palm of my hand. None of that matters. Your body is starving. You need this. You want this with every fiber of your being."

My vision was blurred by tears and sweat. My entire body was soaked with perspiration. The pain of my excruciatingly engorged manhood was enough to leave me nearly sobbing with unbearable arousal.

"Yes. Fuck, yes, for the love of God, I want it. I will win. I'll win for you. I'll do anything. Anything you want."

I was essentially alternating between words and ragged, tormented gasps for air. This was a far greater trial than I had ever had to endure. As I literally wept with denied lust, she smiled, bringing the mirror shine of the knife into view once more.

"Just for fun. Don't forget to thank me."

With a terribly beautiful, caressing stroke, she slid the edge gently, tenderly across my cheek. The cut was shallow, but I could feel a light trickle of blood all the same. Looking straight at me, close enough for me to vaguely make out the outline of her eyes behind the impenetrable glasses, she licked the blade clean, her tongue moving more sensually that anything I could have possibly dreamed. Every fiber of effort I could muster was devoted to keeping my hands in place behind my back. My hips bucked, spasmodically shaking with uncontrollable desire. Her victory was finally, undeniably sealed by the words that left my lips without any knowledge or intent of mine.

"Ahh... ahh... th-thank you."

Without meaning to, I had obeyed her instructions. Putting the knife away, she moved her hand behind my head, allowing her fingers to leisurely conform to the contours of my skull.

"Very good. Now, I'd like to hear a proper term of courtesy next time. Tell me, now, once more: what are you going to do for me next week? What is a pathetic, pulsing-hard wreck like you going to do to serve me?"

The answer slipped out with a terrifying fluidity, as if it were an unalterable fact of the universe, the sum of one and one, the color of the sky. It was the most natural thing in the world, answering with a half-whispered surrender.

"I will win for you. I will win the fight, because you ordered me to... Mistress."

As she stood up, another demonic laugh ringing in my ears, the relief from the removal of the pressure pushed me nearly to the edge. I gasped from the unbearable power of the sensation. As I desperately tried to make my breathing keep pace with the pounding of my heart, I heard her parting shots as if they had come from another dimension entirely.

"You've finally learned a proper level of courtesy. I never doubted that you would be a good servant. Work hard for me. Give me your everything, and I might just reward you. Someone will be in touch with you about the fight."

As she walked out the door, inhumanly perfect hips tantalizing me with every step, she seemed to remember something.