I’m in the back of the gym on a leg machine, the kind where you sit with your legs at ninety degrees with your shins pushing against a padded bar, and then straighten them, lifting the arm which pulls the cable which pulls the plates up in the process. The gym isn’t crowded today. There are maybe ten people here. I came with Chris and Amy but they’re off on the treadmills together up near the front of the gym by the windows. I’m not much into running long distances. Besides, twenty feet away, *she’s* working out. She’s doing single leg squats in front of the mirror and I can’t look away. Every time she stands up and her impossibly round and extruding posterior reforms, I imagine what it must feel like; muscular, firm, round, soft. Maybe a little soft when she’s not flexing them.
*I’d like to just rub her legs for a moment…*
Her well developed thighs and calves are prominently displayed through the maroon nylon leggings that leave nothing to my imagination. A matching sleeveless crop top again. For a moment I’m ashamed of my blue school issued gym shorts and white NRH Rebels t-shirt, but it’s what I have. She goes down to do another squat, her right leg extended before her, her left bearing her weight. I can see the muscles bulge under the thin fabric. She does two more while I’m sitting motionless on the machine watching, and then stops and stands there facing the mirrors, her hands gently on her hips. My eyes move up a little and I suddenly realize she’s staring at me inquisitively through the reflection in the mirrors.
*Oh Fuck…*
I look away quickly and try to look at other things around the gym, my heart pounding. I look at other people working out, or up at one of the many tv sets adorning the upper walls. I fiddle with the plates on the machine and increase the weight. I act like I’m about to start a new set. Hoping enough time has passed, I steal a glance. She’s now facing me with her arms folded across her chest, eyes narrowed and head cocked, studying me. I can feel the nervousness in my stomach start.
*Fuck Fuck Fuck!!!!!!!!*
I look up at her and manage a feeble smile and the most chicken shit little wave with my right hand. I’m clenching my legs like when I had Greg would find something to blame me for. She turns her right hand over in a fist and curls her index finger up twice back towards her and then points a dark red fingernail down in front of her. A bloody dagger signaling my demise. She wants me over there. My stomach churns. I slowly shift my butt off of the machine, stand up, and walk over to where she is standing. I stop about 6 feet away. I’m holding my hands in front my stomach with the fingernail of my right hand scratching the palm of my left. It’s an involuntary tick to help deal with stressful situations. I’ve rubbed so hard in the past I can cause blisters. She looks up and down at me and then shakes her head “*no*”. Her eyes dart down directly in front of her, indicating *closer.*
*Oh fuck I’m such an idiot please don’t yell at me oh fuck*
With my eyes looking just about everywhere but hers, I walk forward slowly, my thumb working overtime on my palm. I can feel my heart pounding, my stomach churning. I’m trying to breathe normal but the butterflies in my stomach won’t let me. My breathing feels like I’ve just ran a marathon and I know she can see the fabric of shirt thumping with every beat of my heart. I’m now standing right in front her with only about three feet separating us, her breasts directly in my face, forcing me to look up awkwardly.
I smile again and try to greet her, “Hi…ummmm…”
“Stop.” Her voice is not angry but it is direct.
*Oh shit here it comes*
Her eyes are narrowed, looking back at my eyes directly. I sheepishly look down; around my feet, at a machine to my right, anywhere but directly at her eyes. She’s bigger than I thought up close. Her leg muscles are still showing the effects of the lactic acid build up and they look bigger than normal. Her arms are crossed in front of her breasts, and I do all I can to avoid the obvious cleavage and the strain of the crop top holding them in. Her biceps are bunched up and intimidating. I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel even smaller and weaker. The nervousness is turning to nausea.
****SNAP****
I immediately look up. She’s snapped with her right hand; her index finger now pointing straight up next to her face.
“Let’s keep your eyes here, and your hands at your side, shall we?” She’s not mean, but commanding.
I lower my hands to my side, my eyes wide with fear but locked on hers.
“Better.” She nods, and then pauses a moment, then says, “I think we’re past the ‘hi’ phase here, sweetie. You’ve been drooling after me like a dog after a bone for the past few months, and I can only imagine what you’ve been thinking about over there for the last five minutes. It also seems like you have your worst workouts when I’m over there on the stair master, wouldn’t you say?” Her eyebrows raise, indicating a response is required.
*She’s fucking known all this time.* *Oh my god I’m such a fucking idiot.*
I’m breathing harder than I realized. My mouth is dry. I need a drink. My hands have found their way back up to my stomach and I’m digging my nail into my palm hard. I inhale as if to respond…
“Relax.” She’s precise, but calm. She isn’t angry. Her face changes from inquisitive to pleasant. I notice her full lips, a pleasant darker shade of red today. She smiles. Beautiful white teeth. “What’s your name, sweet heart?”
Her friendly nature throws me for a loop. After years of making up names to give to random adults and cops, I don’t understand why I suddenly pause. It’s too long of a pause, but I blurt out the only name that comes to mind, “Holly!” It’s the only thing I can find safety in.
*“Holly”?* *You’re a fucking idiot Sarah…*
She’s back to studying me, clearly pondering my answer, and me.
“I see…*Holly*.” She puts enough inflection on ‘Holly’ that I know she knows.
*Fuck.*
I close my eyes and wince.
*FUCK!*
“And how old are you, *Holly*?” Again with the inflection.
“Eighteen. My birthday is in…”
Her finger goes up. I stop.
“Sweetie, you just answer the question when I ask you, understand?” She’s like a principal at a school demanding compliance. I suddenly feel her touch for the very first time. I realize she’s reached out and placed her hands on my mine, and pushing them down gently, but firmly. “And your arms are at your side.”
I can smell her for the first time as she leans in and puts my hands on my legs. She’s not sweaty, and is wearing a pleasant perfume. *Opium*, I would learn later. It distracted me for a moment, but I managed a weak, “Yes” in response.
“Yes, ma’am.” She added. I needed to add that as well.
“Yes, ma’am.” I said. I hope it pleases her.
“That’s your boyfriend over there?” She nods her head in Chris’s direction.
“Yes, ma’am.” I almost add “*and his sister*”, but think better of it. I’m still hoping the nausea and my pounding heart subside.
She pauses a moment. I glance over at Chris on the treadmill. He’s actually stopped and is now looking our way, talking to Amy.
*Fuck.* *Please don’t, Chris, please don’t come over*
********SNAP********
I breathe in suddenly in panic and my eyes frantically try to find hers. Her lips are pursed and she’s shaking her head “*no”.* I look back up at her and suddenly feel her hands on mine again pushing them down to my side. I hadn’t realized I had brought them back together. I let her. I don’t know why, but I’m panicking. Anything to make sure she doesn’t get mad.
“Holly, pay attention.”
*I am*.
My eyes focus on hers, a little more wide eyed than I’d like but I need to make sure she knows I’m listening.
“I would like to have a simple conversation with you. Obviously you and I need to address this little situation. And,” she looks me up and down, “to be honest, I would like to ask you some questions. Some of them are easy; while some of them you may not want to answer. But, if you agree to the rules of my conversation, you will adhere to them until I am satisfied, and you and I can see where this goes. Beforehand, let’s get to the point where I’m right in my assumption that this gawking has become somewhat personal in nature?”
She holds her stare at me, eyebrows raised in question.
I can feel the blush on my cheeks.
*Fuck…*
I close my eyes in embarrassment and defeat. I only open my eyes after I nod slowly once.
“Mmhmm.” She nods and goes back to her serious face. “So, my rules? Or, you may apologize to me now and try convince me that you will stop staring at my ass every time I am here or you and I will sit down with the owner of this gym to discuss it. Yes?”
*The rules of “MY” conversation?* *At least she’s not yelling so far…it’s ok…it’s ok…it’ll be ok*
I don’t sound convincing at all in my head but I don’t want her to get mad.
“Yes, ma’am.” My hands are gripping my thighs tightly so I don’t raise them again. She notices and smiles.
“The rules are simple, Holly. I am going to ask you some very easy questions. I will expect you to answer them since I know that you know the answers. Some of them you may think are difficult, but I assure you I know they are not. Lie to me, and this conversation is over, and you will apologize for your behavior and the stalking stops. Tell me the simple, easy truth as soon as it pops in your head. Are we in agreement of the rules so far?”
*Holy fuck I HAVE been stalking her…fuck…yes…the rules…*
“Yes, ma’am.” I manage to get out.
“Are you ready?”
*I really don’t know…what the hell are you going to ask me?*
*“*Yes, ma’am.” My voice wavers. I’m still so nervous, my heart pounding, I can hear it in my head. I know I can’t lie about watching her, and I’ve already admitted it’s personal now. I want to hold my hands. I know she won’t allow that. I don’t.
“What is two plus two?”
I thought I would be able to react quicker as I thought I could lie pretty well on the fly, but my brain breaks for a moment at the simplicity of the question. Somehow I dryly mouth “Four.” I have no doubt she can see the immediate confusion on my face.
“What color is the sky?”
“Blue.”
*What the fuck?*
*“*What is the sum of five plus five?”
“Ten.” *I don’t understand…*
*“*What color is grass?”
*“*Green”
*ok… I don’t get it but whatever, fine…*
*“*Do you want me to go down on you?”
I balk. I want to respond. My mouth opens and hangs. I try to speak. I don’t know what I want to say. I stammer for a moment but it comes as more of a mumble. I start looking around in panic.
*Oh fuck…godamnit fuck…say something!!!!*
********SNAP****
I’m wide eyed in front of her, gripping my thighs so hard I think a nail is cutting me. The pain is a welcome distraction but not for long. I’m staring at her eyes now, her raised hand and fingers frozen in the snap position. Her eyes are locked on mine now. I know other people are watching but I can’t look. I shouldn’t look because she said not to.
“Holly, sweetie, you made a mistake.” There is no emotion in her voice; it is a statement of fact.
*Fuck*
*“*I don’t like mistakes,” she continues, “as they tend to annoy me, and it means I’m repeating myself, and wasting my time. I don’t want another one, am I understood?”
I try to swallow but can’t. “Yes, ma’am” I squeak out. I’m trying to lick my lips but there’s no spit. I want to run and hide.
“Holly, the task is simple. I ask you a question, and you give me the answer. You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.” She pauses and glances to the left. Her face contorts in a brief moment of frustration.
“Your boyfriend is coming over here. He is going to want you to end this conversation. You may, but that will certainly end it and I will expect my full apology as we discussed. Or, if you so choose, Holly, we may continue this conversation and see where it leads. If you are interested in talking any further here, you will ignore him when he walks over here. I do mean *ignore*.” She stresses that last word.
“When our conversation is over, you may tell him anything you like. Until that time, you and I have an agreement to finish what we are discussing. Now, what’s his name?”
“Chris.” I blurt out. I don’t hesitate.
*Please Chris, don’t be a dick.* *Not now, no no no…please…*
“Stand there. Do not say a word while we are talking.” She turns around to meet Chris before I have a chance to respond.
I think that I could apologize and walk away in shame. I think that I could apologize and this would be over.
*But isn’t talking to her what you wanted?*
Chris is animated; agitated. He’s walking over with an attitude. I look down and focus on the floor. There’s a small tear in the rubber mats that cover this section. It’s about an inch long. It looks old. Maybe it was a weight that dropped on it…
“Sarah, what’s going on?” He asks loudly as he gets closer. I can’t see his face but he’s walking quickly and the tone in his voice is harsh, demanding of me. Before he gets close enough she turns and steps in front of him, her back to me. Chris might be a few inches taller, but even he would have to see she would clearly win a physical altercation. He stops in bewilderment but she interrupts before he can say another word.
“Hi Chris.” She stands there, arms folded in front of her. She’s imposing. I can’t see their faces, but I can tell Chris is looking past her at me and then back at her. “As you can see Holly and I are having a private discussion. She’s fine, and nothing is wrong with her. But, she and I would like to finish this…”
“Who the FUCK is Holly?” He says, yelling “fuck” a bit louder than he should have. “What the fuck is going on here? Who are you?”
*Oh hell this is a fucking nightmare…*
“First, young man, you’re going to lower your voice when we’re speaking. My name is Kim, Chris.” She doesn’t get angry. She doesn’t move. She clearly has no problems dealing with aggravated males. I wouldn’t either if I had that physique.
I want to bolt. I want to run and hide anywhere but here.
“And *Holly* is the name she gave to me when she panicked and lied.” She looks back at me, but I don’t meet her eyes.
“Now please, lower your voice.” I wince. She turns back to him. Clearly this has become a spectacle. I can tell the few folks in the gym today are now paying attention. The silence is deafening. At least the music and the sounds of the fans whirring overhead are enough white noise to drown out normal conversation.
“What? That’s the name of that stupid stuffed bear of hers! Sarah, what the hell is going on?” His voice is still a bit elevated. He acts like he’s going to get around her for a moment. Surprisingly, she steps forward and puts a finger on his chest.
“You’re going to stop right there.” She demands. His cowering is immediate and he backs up a step.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is markedly lower; his anger is clearing rather abruptly and clarity unveils his precarious position.
*Yeah, how’s it feel?*
Chris had only slapped me once in the past, and that was because he thought I was looking at another guy. I wasn’t, but I was looking past that guy in order to better see *her.* I couldn’t exactly argue the truth on semantics. He has a bit of an anger management issue, but not nearly as bad as some of mom’s other boyfriends. He’s certainly not as bad as Greg. Other than that one incident, he’s been ok, and his family has been the first family to treat me half nicely. Still, I surprise myself in feeling like there’s been some deserved retribution.
*You know he’s going to probably hit you again after this.*
*“*Better*…*Chris…I can assure you that everything is fine here. Holly is fine.”
*I wouldn’t exactly say that…*
I’m starting to shake a little. My nausea is creeping again. I’m anything but fine. She probably knows it.
She turns to me.
“Holly?”
I look up. “Yes ma’am?” I look at her eyes but I can see the bewilderment on his face. My heart is racing but I don’t lose focus.
“I want you to return to your exercise machine. You will increase the weight by one plate. You will complete three sets of ten. Use the clock on the column here and count sixty seconds between sets. At the end of your routine you will return here. Go.” She waits only long enough to see me turn.
I don’t hesitate and walk towards where this nightmare began.
*Do what you’re told; just do what you’re told…*
I get to my machine and position myself in the chair; my legs behind the cushioned pin back in the ninety degree position. For the first time I look up and around the gym. I can see the other people in the looking at me, but quickly turn their in-quizzical gazes away. The gym isn’t crowded, but most of them have been watching. I notice Amy standing on her treadmill looking at me with something akin to disgust and confusion. She’s also holding a phone with the camera pointed my way. We’ve never been that close but it still stings. I look up at the clock on the dark gray painted column only a few feet from where we were standing. Unfortunately I then notice that she’s turned her head and is staring at me, clearly not that happy.
Still staring intently at me, I can hear her say loud enough, “Chris, may we please speak over here?”
She indicates with her left arm to move to a corner about ten feet further from where they had been standing. His jaw is agape and looking at me I notice, but he slowly moves. I reach over to my right and lower the pin one plate, increasing it by ten pounds. I grip the rubber handles and begin pushing my legs out and straight, raising the plates with the front of my shins.
*One……….two……….three……….four……….five……….six……….seven……….eight……….nine……….ten*
I’m breathing hard enough to drown out any hope of hearing them, plus I’m looking at the clock. 52 seconds past the minute. I keep an eye on the clock, and start counting, more watching the seconds hand than actually counting.
*Just start when the seconds hand hits the fifty two mark again.* *Fuck, what are they talking about?* *Just don’t freak out later Chris, I’m so sorry; I don’t how I fucked this up.* *I can’t believe she’s known I’m watching all this time*
My thoughts are a whirlwind as I glance at the clock. It’s hit the fifteen second mark. My breathing is back under control. I wish my stomach was.
*Thirty seven to go*
They’re talking, but now they’ve changed positions. I can act like I’m looking at the clock, but keep my focus in my peripheral. Chris now has his back to me and she is in front of him but where she can see me. I notice her gaze from time to time as they speak, and I keep count.
*Ten seconds to go*
She suddenly jerks her right index finger up in front of her face and somewhat wide eyed clearly mouths stop. Her left arm drops to her waist, her hand in a fist. Something he said was not taken kindly. I hear nothing but the music overhead, the whirring of fans, and the welcome return of people working out. Amy is still watching, standing there, and alternating her gaze between me and them. I’m focused on keeping count.
*Fifty-one…………*
From the way her head tilts from side to side, and her eyebrows rising and falling like angry waves on the sea, she’s clearly taken control of the conversation and is not happy. Chris takes a step back and has his arms crossed in front of him. He’s definitely cowing a bit now.
I start my next set. She glances at me and I quickly look down.
*One……….two……….three……….four……….five……….six……….seven……….eight……….nine……….ten*
I’m breathing a little harder but I immediately start counting the seconds on the clock. I’m starting at twenty-four seconds past the minute mark.
*One……….two……….three……….four……….five……….six……….seven……….eight……….nine……….*
She’s less animated as I dare to look up. I don’t focus on them, but on the clock, but enough still that I can see out of my peripheral. She’s calmly talking, and Chris is speaking and being less animated when he does, as she is now clearly dictating. I focus on the clock.
*Thirty-nine seconds to go.*
She has said something, and reached out to shake his hand. Chris suddenly shrugs his shoulders, looks over at me in bewilderment, and then takes her outstretched hand and shakes it. He seems a little limp wristed, but then nods and walks away. She glances at me, and I can see her chest rise and fall in a bit of an exaggerated sigh. I don’t know for sure, but think there was a slight smile. I focus on the clock. I have eight seconds to go. She breaks from standing there and walks halfway to the front desk where the attendant has been watching. She puts her right arm out, palm down and gives them the “stand down” signal. I realize I’ve been watching too long and snap my eyes back to the clock. It’s just passing the twenty-five second mark.
*FUCK!!!*
I get a bit of an adrenaline rush from the fear and frustration of having fucked up by one second, but I can see she is just now turning back towards me. I kick the workout in high gear, banging the plates a little harder than I anticipated.
*One……….two……….three……….four……….five……….*
*She’s going to ask that same question. I can’t answer her question.* *I can’t.* *Why the fuck would she ask me that?* *She’d going to ask me again.* *I’m going to apologize, fuck…no, she wouldn’t ask that if she wasn’t interested?* *What is Chris going to think, fuck…fuck fuck fuck!!!!*
*six……….seven……….eight……….nine……….ten*
I’m breathing harder than I was after the first set, but I immediately get up and walk over to where I needed to be. I can see Chris and Amy in the treadmill section at the front of the gym talking, sharing glances my way. I turn my attention back to the tear in the floor. My nausea has settled a little more though, which is helping, and the rest of the people that had been watching have all now returned. There’s more of a sense of normalcy. She walks back up and stands in front of me, arms folded again. I look up and meet her gaze, but my heart starts pounding again as soon our eyes meet. Clearly she’s looking me over and considering things.
I can feel the scraping of my thumbnail on my palm. Her eyes look down, and then suddenly soften. She smiles, reaches forward and puts both of her hands on mine, gently pushing them down to my sides where I spread my palms on my bare legs. I manage a bit of a smile and relax just a little. Instead of gripping my legs, I’m gently rubbing the outlines of my nail marks from earlier.
*Do it!* *Apologize!* *Ma’am, I’m so sorry I swear I won’t do it again, please don’t get me kicked out!* *Jesus, it’s that simple. But you don’t want that…do you?*
She takes her hands of off mine and says, “Take a deep breath, and relax, Holly.”
I actually do. I stop and focus on my breathing and take a deep breath and let my shoulders drop. I don’t lose eye contact. I try to find the courage to speak but she beats me to it.
“First, I’m flattered. You’re adorable.” She looks me up and down and gives me a brief smile. Her comment distracts me, and I feel a tad more at ease. “When I first noticed you watching me I thought it was cute, but the fact that it’s been going on for so long indicates this is more than just casual interest. I’m used to being gawked at, but you’ve gone a little overboard. I’ve been intending to have a discussion with you, but not like this. Now, before you chicken out here and apologize and try to forget all of this ever happened…”
*Please just let me…just let me…*
*“*…think about what it was that brought you here to begin with.”
She pauses for a moment. I’m not expecting that. Rather than blurt out my apology rambling around in my head, it stops me. I know the answer.
*You.* *The dreams.* *The fantasies.* *You whipping me instead of…him.* *You holding me down.* *You grabbing my hair.* *Being held by you…touched…I don’t know why and I can’t explain it and oh fuck no not now….*
The tear comes out of my left eye faster than I can control it. The overwhelming emotion of suddenly wanting her touch comes from nowhere and I’m not ready for it. The tear rolls down my cheek. I moved to wipe it off but her hand meets mine and she lowers it back down. The tear trickles its way down my cheek and I can feel the cool outline of its meandering as the fans move the air around us. Her eyes soften a little, as she watches the tear fall. Her black eye brows are raised a little, and her mouth is slightly open. She’s thinking. An eternity passes as she studies me with something I believe is interest and…maybe…compassion? I didn’t know what that felt like, not from any motherly figure in my life. Not that I had any remembrances of. I don’t flinch when she reaches out with her right hand and uses her thumb to gently wipe the tear off.
“You’re scared. You got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, didn’t you?” She says, a little more light heartedly.
“Yes ma’am, I’m so sor…” I try to start, but she holds up a single finger to stop me.
“I get it, you’ll never do it again.” She smiles. “But I’m not interested in meaningless, cliché responses based on what you think I want to hear. I don’t want you thinking at all, Holly.”
The involuntary scrunching of my eyebrows reveals my confusion. She puts both her hands on my shoulders, the fabric of my cheap t-shirt bunching up in her palms.
“All I want is the truth, which you shouldn’t have to think about. Understand?” She raises her eyebrows to indicate I should answer.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good.” She takes her hands off my shoulders and steps back just a bit. She thinks for a moment. “Holly, I’m going to offer you a contract for the next few minutes.”
*A what?* *A contract?*
“I assume you understand what a contract is.”
I nod slowly even though it wasn’t a question, but still unable to hide the confusion in my eyes.
“You agree to stand there and answer my questions no matter what I ask, without thinking about what I’m asking you, or why. You simply give me the answers and I determine what I will do with those answers. Or, I’ll let you finish your apology and we can hug and pretend it’s all ok and go our separate ways. You stop eyeing me like a piece of meat, and you go enjoy your volleyball out there in California.”
*Holy shit…how did you know that…*
“Yes, I know who you are.” She sees the surprise in my eyes. “You’ve got a great future ahead of you it looks like. That doesn’t detract from you and I coming to terms here though.”
She’s brought me back to reality. Back to dealing with the problem that I can’t run from.
*Yes I can.* *She just said I can…*
*“*If you agree to the terms of the contract, simply say ‘I’m ready ma’am’. Or, I’ll let you finish what you wanted to say.” Her lips close and she stands there, silent and imposing, but I find it oddly comforting to be so close.
*Shit…what do I do!?* *Chris is already pissed and has probably told Amy everything.* *She probably thinks I’m a freak.* *This is fucking freaky, Jesus!* *I let her boss me around already doing the weights but I WANTED to…*
My thoughts whirl around my head like dandelion tufts in a storm. In a panic I look around the gym for a moment. Chris and Amy are still huddled together, watching intently.
*Fuck…*
“Holly?”
I look back. I try to lick my lips but my mouth has gone dry again. I need to answer. I know what I want but it terrifies me. My voice wavers but I get it out.
“I’m…ready ma’am.” I swallow hard. I already know what kind of questions are coming. My breathing is increasing a little in anticipation and I can feel my fingers starting to tighten on my thighs.
“Good.” Her eyes focus on mine. She’s not annoyed or angry looking…but looking into me almost. “Holly, I want you to relax and simply focus on my voice, nothing else around here. Close your eyes.”
I do. I immediately feel safer. I can hear the low hum of the fans, the clink of the weights. The rhythmic thumping of feet on treadmills. I don’t hear voices, only sounds, and sounds don’t judge me. I know her voice, and I anticipate it coming. I’m eager for it. I suddenly feel her fingers on my forehead, clearing some errant hairs from my face. I don’t flinch. It’s surprisingly comforting. My breathing slows.
“Remember, there are no wrong answers, there is only the truth. Relax your mind and simply respond as you did when I asked you what color the sky was.” She pauses. What she said sinks in for a moment before she asks, “How often do you think about me?”
Without intending to, I take a very deep breath. I hand over control of my truths to her, “Every day.”
“Are they sexual thoughts?”
“Sometimes, ma’am.” My breathing increases a little.
“Sometimes…,” there’s a long pause. “And when it’s not sexual, what is it you fantasize about with me?”
*Shit…*
“You get…” I pause, almost too long, “rough.”
In my darkness, I can only hear. Every pause from her is an eternity. The nausea is creeping back along with my breathing. I thought it would be easy to just give in but it’s harder than I thought. My mouth is no longer dry, the nausea causing my saliva glands to kick in to gear. I swallow.
“Am I hitting you? With something?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes yes. A belt.” Suddenly my mind is flooded with dream images, images conjured during fantasies in which it was her holding the belt. It was her bringing it down across my bare buttocks and raising the welts. There’s a sudden and unexpected warm twinge between my legs, and I can immediately feel my nipples harden. I may not have been blessed in the bosom, but my nipples definitely stood out when erect. The sports bra and t-shirt would do nothing for that.
*Please don’t see them…shit…*
“Well that certainly seemed to elicit a response, didn’t it?” She said, with a touch of humor in her voice.
*Well fuck…*
*”*When it’s sexual, Holly, is it sensual?”
*FUCK!*
“No ma’am.” I’m swallowing more to keep ahead of the nausea. For the first time, the trash can behind her under the clock comes to mind as a suitable place to toss my cookies. The thought is revolting and horrifying. “Not usually. Maybe sometimes.”
“Am I using a strap-on on you?”
*Oh dear god no…*
“Some…,” I swallow, “…times.” I forget the “ma’am” part but I’m trying my damndest to not vomit.
“Is it forced sex? Are you tied up?” Her questions never betray emotion. She’s almost clinical in her presentation.
My breathing is getting more laborious, and my mouth is watering. My stomach is doing flip flops.
*Please no…I don’t want to puke, I don’t want puke…please…please…*
“Yes.”
“Ma’am.”
“Yes, ma’am”.
”Holly, are you fantasizing about me raping you?”
The severity and weight of the question takes a moment to sink in. A wave of heat comes over me as I form the answer in my mind. Unfortunately when my mouth opens to speak it, so do my eyes as I desperately look for the trash can. I quickly move to it, grabbing with both hands on either side and lean my head in, my hair spilling around my face. My body starts to lurch with the heaves as I feel sharp nails on my head as nurturing hands gather up my hair and hold it from behind. Another hand is on my lower back slowly rubbing.
The waves of nausea rack my body as I empty everything. I feel it through my nose, stinging me and causing tears to roll down my face. It’s dribbling down my chin too. I’m disgusted.
*Oh god I’m so disgusting…please don’t hate me oh please don’t hate me I’m so sorry…*
The hand on my back never stops rubbing, and her hand holding my hair never lets go as the spams continue. I can tell someone has approached, because I hear her say, “*No no, just a little over exertion, she’s fine.”* I grip the plastic receptacle hard, wanting to keep my head in there and not face the world ever again. I dry heave a couple of times and my body gives up the ghost. The hand on my back disappears. I then feel a soft towel on my face gently wiping me clean. She pulls on my hair lifting me up, letting go in the process. I move my hand to take the towel on my mouth, but she pushes it back down. She then wipes my mouth off with her own workout towel, and then folds it up and wipes my eyes. I have never felt such care before. Not like that.
“Are You ok?”
I nod yes.
*No…*
“Holly,” she says, adjusting the hair on my face and cleaning me off like a real mother cleaning smudges from a crying child’s face. “I think we can dispense with any further questions, ok?”
I look up with red, blood-shot eyes and nod. She takes a step back and hands me the towel. I take it.
“Thank you.” I squeak out.
“Go get your water over there.” She motions to the leg machine I was on. I walk over and get my bag and water bottle. I immediately wash my mouth with it. It helps. I put the dirty towel in my little bag and get my own small towel and rub my face with it. I take another sip and then walk back and stand in front of her, putting my bag on the ground and my bottle on top of that. I look up at her.
“Are you feeling ok?” She asks.
I smile weakly and nod. I know I’m a horrible liar normally but I do feel better after that, albeit mortified. I’m purposefully not looking around the gym now.
“Not quite the workout I anticipated today.” She says with a hint of humor.
“I’m so…” I try again to get it out, but she again puts her finger up stopping me in mid apology.
*Ugh…*
Her red lips are still pursed for a moment, eyes bunched together in thought. A full minute passes and I am still meeting her gaze. When she finally speaks her words don’t entirely register.
“I’m going to assume that apologizing has become knee jerk reaction from you, but I’m pretty sure I can correct it.”
*What do you mean, ‘correct it’?* *What?*
*“*Pay close attention Holly, I’m going to make you an offer here. You have fantasies, and I’m going to offer to fulfill one. A new contract. I’ll give you about thirty minutes to consider it.” She’s methodical, no emotions; making a business deal. I’m out of my league and I know it.
*What fantasy?* *What the fuck are these contracts?*
She points to the clock on the wall and says to my eventual shock, “At five exactly I am going to leave the gym. If you so choose you may come with me to my car, and enter the back passenger side door. If you do, I will take you home. Now listen very carefully to this next part.”
I’ve stopped hearing any other sound but her voice. My heart is thumping in my chest.
“You will strip naked,” she continues, “and I will blind fold you and tie you to a wooden cross. I am going to use a variety of whips, paddles, and canes on your back, your ass, and the back of your legs. It’s going to hurt. A lot.”
She pauses to let her words sink in. They sink in well.
“The price of you fantasizing about me for the last two months is a single drop of blood.” She continues, “If I get what I want, it ends and we will have a much longer discussion in the morning, if you choose. If you use your safe word to end it, you will be cared for and dropped off at home…and you and I…”
She uses her index fingers to point at me and then herself alternating each hand back and forth a few times.
“…are done.”
I pause long enough to realize that my mouth has been agape for too long. My wide stare
*What…the…fuck?* *A safe word? In the morning? That’s Fifty Shades of Gray shit isn’t it?* *Is that what she is?* *A female Dorian Gray?* *Oh fuck she’s a…what’s the fucking word…*
I hear what she says but I’m too stunned to accept them, and yet at the same time I can’t help that sudden warmth between my legs. In a flash I realize I’m aroused and yet I shouldn’t be, as scared as I am. My nipples are rock hard again and I can feel them pushing against the fabric. I shouldn’t, but I look anyways.
*Yep, no hiding those, thanks girls..* *Fuck.* *She wants to beat me til I bleed?*
The thought should make me bolt for the door but it doesn’t. I look back up quickly.
She’s still talking though. She says, “That gives you almost thirty minutes from now to decide. If you decide not to accept my offer, you come and apologize before I walk out. Do you understand?”
*Dominatrix.* *That’s the word.* *Holy shit.* *That’s what she is.* *Ok, thirty minutes.* *Ok.*
“Yes, ma’am.” I respond immediately.
“Good. 5 o’clock. And Holly, not all pain is for punishment. Go, and be careful what you wish for.”
I’m a bit stunned, but I look around a bit and see only Chris and Amy left looking at me. I glance up at her and she has turned and is gathering her things. She grabs her water bottle and her bag and heads to the front of the gym where the stair master machine is. I’m still standing there wondering what to do.
*I’ve just let this woman that I know nothing about intimidate me to the point where I did what she said without thinking about it.* *I wanted to.* *I did what she told me to do and I feel good about that but why?* *So I don’t get punished by her reporting me harassing her?* *Right? Or because I actually want her… Fuck…I need to clean up…*
I bolt to the bathroom.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/k8nc8t/hollys_talespart_2