This takes place at a point after the end of Season 1.
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Samantha was raised to be forgiving and considerate. Through her father’s lessons, she learned focus and control. She knew she was capable of inflicting pain thus knew she must avoid giving in when rage possessed her. This was the opposite of what that bastard at Cobra Kai was teaching. He ruined her dear Miguel, teaching him how to inflict pain without holding back. Sam didn’t have a plan exactly, but she had to do something. She drove fast through the streets this night, her music blaring, silencing her hesitation. She had to trust her instincts on this. She would confront Sensei Lawrence and demand Miguel come to learn with her.
This was a bad part of town. Red and blue police lights flashed down a side streets, what looked like a drug deal was being made in an alley, loud hip hop aggressively pounding from car stereos. There were a few abandoned houses houses with light leaking out between boarded up windows. Sam’s martial art training gave her confidence but that confidence was waning. What sort of person comes here to learn martial arts; this place is dangerous enough to drive through but to learn to fight here…
As these thoughts, this self doubt, rushed through her, as she began to sweat, the strip mall with the Cobra Kai sign loomed up ahead. The snake rearing up was truly frightening now. But she turned into the parking lot, despite her growing fear and swallowed hard, determined.
The school was almost entirely dark. There was a faint glow from inside but it was impossible to see behind the opaque shades drawn over the windows. Why would they hide what was going on in the school? Wouldn’t they want to advertise their school size and invite casual passersby?
Cutting her engine, silencing her music, she sat in the car for a moment longer, calming her breathing. If the school was open, if Sensei Lawrence was there, she’d approach him reasonably at first but stand firm.
With a deep breathe and exhale, Sam left her car, walked to the doors of the school and tested if they were locked. They were not. Inside, it smelled of a typical dojo; stale with the musk of sweat and blood. She sheepishly stepped inside, calling out, “Sensei Lawrence?” with no response. There was a loud slam sound in the backroom.
Honoring the school, she slipped off her shoes, bowed, and stepped onto the mat towards the backroom. That slam sound was louder this time. It caught her, made her actually stumble backwards, was there something wrong? Was someone hurt? She should have rushed forward to help, but there was an intangible force that accompanied that slam. Power.
Again and again. Faster. Harder. The walls trembled, mirrors rattled. This was the sound of violence like she had never before experienced.
“Sense Lawrence? Are you okay?” Sam’s voice trembled but she continued forward. Her barefeet allowed her to approach quietly. Fluidly, Samantha moved down the hall to the open door of the backroom. The only light in the dojo came from the hall and was positioned in such a way it made it impossible to adjust her eyes to the complete darkness of the backroom. But the slamming was louder and harder than before. Something seemed wrong.
She stayed quiet for a few seconds more, until her eyes adjusted to the horror unfolding in front of her. There was a large man kneeling atop an unmoving figure whose arms were at their sides. The man was unloading with hammerfists on the face of the figure, who was motionless.
Her training took over. Without a sound, Samantha crossed the distance rapidly and lept at the large man, intending to kick him off of his victim. Her intention failed, however. For, while the large man was relentlessly punishing the downed figure, he was simultaneously able to counter her own attack with ease; as if he was waiting for it.
He slipped to one side, allowing her to momentarily sail almost past him, almost however, for in the same instant he moved back toward her, his muscular arms flashing to control her. A big hand shot to her throat, turning her body around in the air until she was slammed upside down; landing on the back of her neck. His other hand grabbed her inner thigh.
His hands seemed huge compared to her small, young body. He was much bigger than any opponent she had face before and commanded more power than she ever felt. Instinct took over and she launched a kick up at him, successfully catching him in the chin. But her kick, delivered with her full force, did not cause him to flinch. He spat blood down on her. Her kick was a mistake. He yanked her body up by her outstretched leg and then twisted and slammed her back down again, putting her in a position where her head was against the mat, his knee against her head to secure her there, one arm powerfully controlling her leg in the air while the other was free to strike her. She was in some kind of inverted pretzel. Her first thought was terror at what form of strike she could expect.
Her second thought was also horror, since her skirt had fallen down, exposing her soft, pink panties.
The hand that was previously pounding down on, what she now saw was a stuffed combat dummy, slid down her tender, inner thigh. She was simultaneously shocked at this sensation and terrified. She wanted the sensation to continue, for this stranger in the dark to move his bruised hands to her hairless slit, but knew this was wrong.
“Sensei Lawrence! Stop!” She shouted. But his hand did not stop. His massive hand was large enough almost completely wrap around her thigh. His knuckles felt course, his hands wrinkled and gritty. And now, when he spoke, she smelled cigar.
“I’m not Sensei Lawrence, little girl,” the stranger said, his hand slowly creeping down further. “And you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”
Samantha did not reply. She was in a daze, allowing her body to react and explore this sensation. Soon his large hand moved over her panties, his thumb pressing up and down her tight, virgin pussy lips. The feeling of this caused her to moan against her will. That, combined with how suddenly soaked her pussy became, seemed to invite the stranger to grow more bold. He settled in to a more powerful stance, pressing his hips against her leg, allowing her to feel his frighteningly long and thick cock with a pronounced mushroom head. The stranger slipped one finger tip between her pussy lips as his thumb concentrated circular pressure on the nub of her clit.
His thumb was all she needed. That sensation had Samantha open her mouth and gasp. He dug in there, this much older man was practiced in this sensual art, and with just his finger could get Samantha to tremble as her body prepared for a powerful orgasm. Reading this in her reaction, the stranger was quick to forcefully shove two fingers down into her pussy. His two fingers were meaty, they barely fit and when he curled them her pussy stretched, feeling too full in such a wonderful way. He curled his fingers and battered her insides, pressing his two fingers and thumb together as if his hand was a feeding cobra, biting and suckling on her juicy, young pussy.
She could not hold back. She wanted to. She did not want this stranger to do this but the fear and built up tension along with this foreign, unwanted sensation overwhelmed her. He owned her. And as she came, he released his knee and lifted her body up from the ground, allowing her arms to reach out and back arch. Her whole body shook from the orgasm. She could not silence herself, she was screaming, tears rolling out of her eyes, and he kept battering both a sensitive place inside her pussy and her clit at the same time. Her orgasm did not slow, he milked it, knowing exactly how to touch her, how much pressure to apply, how to massage and pinch, ultimately causing her to begin squirting. He owned her young hole. Owned and manipulated her with a master’s grip.
Embarrassed, humiliated, and exhausted, she gave in. He let her body drop to the mat and rose.
She wanted to call out. She wanted the name of her assailant, her mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts, but she could not move. She was defeated.
The figure stepped into the light, allowing her to only see his silhouette, and then he was gone. Her hand slipped down her body to her swollen pussy, enjoying what she felt, wondering who that was and what other techniques they may know.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/j4v29x/cobra_clutch_mf_ageplayvirgincobra_kai