Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
|
Shit.
Julie winced at the pain that shot up her ankle the moment she landed her double back handspring. What the hell? She'd always nailed that landingโalways. And now she hadn't even had an audience. At least she didn't think so. Her trainer was nowhere to be seenโthank God. If he knew she'd injured herself, he would only make her do the routine until she could stick the landing with an injured ankle, she was sure. And right now, Julie would rather take a break, maybe find some ice. Perhaps it was the pressure that had made her unstable. The World Championship was only three months away, and if anything went wrong, she could kiss any medal goodbye. Or maybe it was just the result of having skipped lunch. It didn't really matter what caused it, she just had to make it to the changing room before her trainer saw her limping. Not that it was super obvious; Julie did her best to hide the pain. She was almost there when she heard him call her name from behind. Her hand was still clutching the handle when she turned her head. He must have seen her limp. "I'm fine," she assured him, forcing a faint smile to her lips, masking her pain. "I just need five minutes." Well, that was a lie. She'd need a lot more if she wanted to get back on the beam without risking injuring herself further. But she also didn't want him to join her in the changing rooms, nor take her to his office. Not after what happened last time. "I'll be out in a few." She wouldn't. |
|
|
|
Vincent Maddox was a man of stern gazes, and even sterner behaviors. Truth be told it was what had made him an Olympic champion in his youth, and what made him an exceptional coach in his retirement from the sport. There was never a more resolute, attentive, and passionate man and numerous parents clamored for him to take their little darling under his wing and give her the skills she needed to fly. Of course, on the other side of the coin, Vincent was a ruthless, relentless, and harsh taskmaster who expected nothing but excellence from those under his tutelage. He gave them his all, he expected that they would provide the same, no matter what obstacles stood in the path of their glory. Admittedly there had been rumors that occasionally stirred amongst the ranks of those who participated in gymnastics that his methods were not far removed from torture, and that on occasion dalliances had occurred between students and himself. On that front Vincent had never spoken on the subject, seeing no need to spur gossip on the subject matter, and apparently allowing the results to stand for themselves. Under his guidance champion after champion emerged, medalists placed at every competition. What were a few hardships when it came to the concept of eternal glory in the record books?
And Julie, Julie was one of those destined for greatness. As long as she got her silly little head in the game. Her behavior at training had been abysmal, even if she was attempting to put her best foot forward, and Vincent was ever so slowing growing tired of her missteps and mismanagement. Arguments had already occurred with her physical therapist, her mother, and one of the assistant coaches regarding the young womanโs progress, and now from the sidelines he had watched her make an amateurish mistake that she should have been absolutely ashamed of. What the hell was going through her mind? Making a small notation on his clipboard, an old affectation in the world of modern electronics, he watched her limp out of the room with a lame shrugging off of her piss mediocre performance. In frustration he tossed the clipboard onto a nearby seat he followed afterward. Storm would not be the right word, for Vincent never yelled, there was no need. His behavior was simply intense, and where he walked others feared to tread. Nobody asked a damn thing of him as he passed by and knowing him, he probably would have followed her into the changing rooms even if she had turned that handle and stepped inside. But she at least had the courtesy to stop and reply to what was obviously a childish denial. One hand came up to point a finger into Julieโs face, her rather aesthetically pleasing face, while the other remained at his side. Though she had felt that other hand before, make no mistake. His voice was metal given life, like slick molten steel, serving up both heat and cold all in one unique tenor. โYou know the rules. We donโt walk away when we fall. You do it, and you do it again, until youโve goddamn got it right. Now get your ass back out there, or do you have something else to say?โ |
|
|
|
She should have walkedโlimpedโfaster. Her coach said exactly what she assumed he was going to say. Get your ass back out there. But Julie didn't want to. Not only because she could barely walk, but because if she did, chances were she wouldn't be able to hide the pain. And the last thing she needed right now was him seeing her cry. He'd pushed her hard beforeโtoo hard, tooโbut she'd managed to keep her tears in check. This time, if she was forced to do her routine one more time, or more, her ankle was doomed to give out. And what good was she to him then? How was he supposed to train a handicapped gymnast? Julie didn't want to risk it. Losing the championship was one thing, but if she injured her leg, God knew how long it would take for her to recover.
Julie didn't fall. If that had been the case, she would have gotten up on that beam before anyone would notice. But this was not like the other times; this was serious. This time, she'd actually hurt herself. She just didn't want to tell him. She clenched the door handle so hard her palm started aching. Lying was beneath her, but this time he left her no choice. "I just need to use the bathroom." It was perhaps the worst lie in history, but if he wasn't going to let her take five to rest her ankle, then this was the only way to convince her she needed a few minutesโto herself. There was no way he would follow her if he thought she'd be using the bathroom. Especially not if it was her time of the month. "I need to change my tampon." Another lie. Julie's period wasn't due for at least another week, but she doubted he was keeping track. She'd never told him about them. Whenever she'd had cramps, she'd kept it to herself. "Just go backโ" Julie waved her other hand towards the gymnastics hall. "I'll be out in a few." The lies rolled off her tongue like she'd spent weeks preparing them. She opened the door just enough to sneak through the opening. Her coach probably wasn't foolish enough to follow. He had in the past, but then she hadn't mentioned the bathroom or her period. Every guy she knew wanted nothing to do with it, and she doubted Vincent Maddox was any different. |
|
|
|
Such a childish response. It actually got under his skin to see his star athlete acting in such a manner. It did more than irk him, it infuriated him to be lied to, especially when the lie was such a bald-faced one, obvious in every conceivable fashion. This was a coach who worked with female athletes for the past two decades. If any man understood the concepts of menstruation, it was he, because of its impact on performance. The older man just simply could not fathom why Julie, who knew he was as in tune with her biological rhythms as he was with her floor routine, would not recognize that he did not believe her words. Then again, it might not have mattered to the young girl one way or the other if he understood and accepted what she was telling him. Julie simply wanted an excuse to get away, and Vincent understood why. She did not want to face the music, did not want to face the embarrassment, and did not want to face the frustration of failing on his watch. And what that might entail when he took it out of her hide. A hint of consternation touched his face as the young woman pushed past him and into the private bathroom, and for the briefest of moments he considered letting her simply have her privacy. Maybe if he left her alone, she would get her act together and get back to practice.
But the consideration did not last. His hand caught the door as it began to swing shut and his tall frame stepped in after her, letting himself into her private space without a single care as to what she felt on the subject matter. The door clicked shut with a finality behind him, leaving them alone, but it was far more than simply being alone in a room with the mature man. It was his presence. It took up space itself, filling up the emptiness of that area, oppressive and weighty as he looked down upon Julie with disapproval. That was the worst part of it all, because Vincent was capable of levying such a staunch demeanor that it turned people regressive in his sights. As if every other human being in the world were simple children and he was the only adult. That gruff exterior stared at her with intense eyes, demanding answers without even speaking, and then he turned away from her, ostensibly it seemed to leave the room, but instead his hand reached out and he clicked the lock shut. His voice was quiet as he turned to look over his shoulder at her. โI thought you were better than this.โ Vincent spoke with such finality that it might as well have been him carving commandments into stone. His body turning as he put his hands on his hips. โA champion doesnโt make excuses and owns up to her mistakes, a champion damn well knows when its time to take a stand. They donโt fret like a baby and scurry off to hide in a corner with their blankie. Is that what you are? A crying brat, or a goddamn athlete? Now, fucking apologize and say youโre going to do better.โ |
|
|
|
Julie hadn't thought he would actually follow her. At least not after she'd lied about having to change her tampon. Perhaps it didn't bother him as much as she hoped it wouldโif at all. His presence forced her further into the tiny room, and the pain that shot up her leg as she put pressure on her ankle made her flinch. She quickly regained her balance, taking the weight off her injured foot. It would be a fucking miracle if she could even manage to walk straight on that beam right now. A part of her wondered if her ankle was swollen, and she tilted her head downwards to look, butโ
The sound of the lock clicking sent a jolt of panic through her body, and she quickly moved her attention over to him. She stared intensely at him as he looked at her over his shoulder. Her pulse quickened. Not only was he blocking her only exit, but he'd fucking locked her in. Like she was some kind of prisoner. Julie swallowed hard at his words, her face heating in what could only be shame. She could hear the disappointment in his voice, see it all over his face. She held her breath as he spoke, feeling how her stomach twisted at his harsh words. Tears prickled behind her eyes, and this time it was not because of her pain. Nothing he said was true, and yet his words hit her like a hammer. She had to clear her throat to prevent her voice from trembling. "I'm not a baby," she said, trying to sound confident despite him stripping her of it. "Or a brat. And I'm not hiding." That last part wasn't entirely true. But she wasn't hiding as much as she was recovering. Folding her arms under her small breasts, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not gonna apologize for needing a fucking break." She didn't want to tell him the truth, but at this point, he left her with no choice. "I hurt myself, okay? My. . . myโ" She let out a frustrated groan, not really wanting to tell him the truth. Julie was a professional athlete, she wasn't supposed to make mistakes. He'd drilled that into her skull from day one. If it hadn't been for the fact that she couldn't move without showing him exactly how much it hurt, she would have cowered further back. But now she was stuck there, unless she wanted to sit downโwhich she didn't. Or, until he allowed her to leave, which. . . probably wouldn't happen anytime soon. "I just twisted my ankle a little," she eventually said, shrugging slightly as if it wasn't a big deal. She didn't need him to examine it, or any part of her, for that matter. "It just needs some ice, and then I'll be back out there." Now, that was a straight-out lie, but could he blame her? She knew giving up wasn't an option; he'd made that perfectly clear. She didn't need a reminder. |
|
|
|
Those eyes could be so cold. They grew wintry the more Julie talked, the more she balked at his demands upon her, and any empathy or consideration that he might have granted her seemed to disappear with every word that fell from her pretty lips. She should have recognized that such ploys would have been a fruitless endeavor, and that the older man had absolutely no time for such childish measures, half-truths, and bratty little tantrums. Vincent had never stomached them before so why would she think that he would accept them now? She could state that she was not a baby till she turned blue in the face, but it would not change the fact that she was behaving with a petulance that Vincent would find unacceptable. Worse, it would interfere in her training which was essentially the only thing that the older man seemed to care about. Other than the few inappropriate actions he had taken with her previously, actions which neither of them dared name aloud. But here in the confines of this bathroom, locked away from the world, it was growing quite evident that Julie was in need of being reprimanded, something she had only experienced a handful of times and had not yet grown accustomed to. Vincent was in the job of making champions, and sometimes an athlete had to be put back on the straight and narrow.
She might not think she needed a reminder, but Vincent did. Was he mollified with her words? She learned soon enough when he responded to her. "I could have understood an injury, I'm not a fool, but we work through it and we don't hide from it. Mistakes happen, but we damn well don't ignore them and we don't run from them. You want to be ashamed, you want to feel humiliated, do it on your own time. Our business is a gold medal, and if you want it then you fight for it." His hand went down to his belt, idly touching it, before undoing it in a practiced motion. This was the kind of movement he had made countless times, his motion almost magical how swiftly he unlocked the clasp and slid the leather free with a hiss. This belt had tanned the backsides of countless young women before Julie, and more than likely countless after her, and today it would be used on her taut muscular athletic rear. Was it sexual, spanking a star gymnast? Yes. But it was far more than that, it was a necessary tool to get them to focus on the task at hand, and sometimes the best results often occurred when coupled with a sore bottom. His hand doubled it over, folding it so that he could gain proper purchase on the leather and he lightly tapped it into the palm of his other hand. It was done so idly, so calmly, that it might have seemed completely commonplace. Enough so that it could convince even the wariest that this was exactly what should be happening. His voice held that ring of finality to it as he took a step closer to her. "Let's get ourselves back on task, Julie. You know how this goes. Bend over, let's get your mind clear so that we can get back out there." There was no need to tell her what denial meant. Denial meant him scrubbing her from training, telling her parents she just was not cut out for competing at the Olympic level. And Julie knew, it was not a bluff. How many young ladies had won gold by letting this man abuse them? Too many. |
|
|
|
"I am fighting for it!" she snapped at him, obviously offended by his words. "It's all I fucking do!" Julie worked her ass off every single day so she'd have a chance at winning gold. And she paid the price for it, too. Not only was her social life non-existent, but there was always a risk that she might hurt herself, and today, she had. Julie had hurt herself in the past, tooโseveral timesโand just last year, she was out for almost a month because of her wrist. She'd gotten the same lecture back thenโand a couple of times afterโand that was exactly why the color drained from her face the moment he reached for his belt. Julie's eyes widened, fear surfacing as she remembered what that belt could doโwhat it had done. She held her breath while he removed it from his pants, her eyes practically glowing with fear. It had been months since he'd used it on her, but it still haunted her. Her breath hitched when he folded the belt in half. For a second, all she could hear was the sound of leather hitting skin. It wasn't until he spoke that she was brought back to reality. Her eyes darted up to meet his, and her cheeks were starting to gain some color. For what felt like forever, she just stared at him. She could feel her pulse quicken, could feel her heart hammering in her chest. All because she knew she had no say in the matter. She knew she couldn't say noโshe'd tried that in the past, and she had spent weeks begging him to train her again. Without him, she was lucky if she even got a medal. Hell, maybe she wouldn't even make the cut without him. Julie couldn't afford to lose him. Not now. Not to mention her parentsโwhat would they say if they found out he was no longer training her? They were paying him God knew how much, and she didn't want to be the one telling them that they'd wasted it all because she wasn't. . . good enough. Because that's the story he would go with. It wouldn't matter if she told them the truth; they'd never believe her. Not after he'd helped so many young gymnasts win gold. By the time she hooked her fingers under the waistband of her tights, she was fighting back tears. "Please," she pleaded, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes traveled between his face and the belt, and she could already anticipate the stinging pain that would soon shoot up her rear. She clenched her jaw, pulling the tights down, revealing a black lace thong. Putting all her weight on her good leg, she twirled around, leaning forward and supporting herself against the bench that was now in front of her. She presented her bare ass to him, save for a tiny piece of fabric that didn't really cover shit. If anything, it outlined her round cheeks perfectly. "You don't have to do this," she muttered, bowing her head down and preparing for the pain she knew would comeโit was only a matter of time. "I just need some ice, I swear." Perhaps she should have just approached him with the injury right away. Maybe if he knew how much she was hurting, he would have given her a bag of ice instead of a burning ass. It was too late now. She could only pray that he wouldn't strike too hard. That it wouldn't be like last time. . . when she couldn't sit straight for days. |
|
|
|
Her protestations of innocence, of being focused on the task at hand seemed to fall on deaf ears, much as the young girl knew would occur. Her coach was not the kind of man who had time for the behavior of young women who failed to measure up to their potential. Which was all the more reason why Julie understood how serious he happened to be, and how willing he would have been to enforce the punishment should she find herself so objectionable that she fought back. In the first few weeks of training, he had quickly disabused the young woman of the notion that she had any choice but to let him punish her, and strangely enough it had certainly improved her concentration when she went back out onto the mat. And, even if he had never overly acted upon his desires, there was a certain sexual satisfaction that the older man indulged in when seeing one of these young gymnasts with there pert asses in the air for him to appreciate. As if they were offering themselves up for judgement, and in a way, they were, though in their cases it was an emotional turmoil. And in Julie's case, with her derriere on display, Vincent would certainly have given her a perfect ten.
His hand came out to touch that amazing backside, giving it a hard squeeze of appreciation. This was certainly a first for them. Always before he had kept things practically professional, as if strapping a young athlete's bottom was an average activity for a coach to engage in. Yet nonetheless there had always been an air of civility in the act. This time though something else permeated the room with the two of them, turning the tight confines of the changing room into something hot and humid. Vincent felt real arousal, deep, and it struck him as odd that he recognized this as more than just a task this time, a man reprimanding a wayward woman, and instead felt a measure of hardness growing in his groin. That hardly saved Julie from the coming storm, and after giving her rump a good feel the strapping began in earnest, the leather of his belt a familiar reminder of the failure in her performance. Vincent did not wail on her, nor was the action done in any manner reminiscent of sensual. It was simply and expertly performed, a brisk spanking that warmed her rear end and turned her cheeks into a perfect rosy red. All the while he wondered, just the tiniest of bits, what she would look like without the thong up between the crack of her ass cheeks. Never before had he removed her underwear, but this time might be different. "I don't doubt you hurt yourself, but do you know how many Olympians have done so? All of them. And they do not let it stop them. It's not about what your body can do, it's about what your mind can do. What can your willpower do. How much you can endure. These aren't silly, this isn't something to shrug off. This is something that you drive towards. Something you make yours. Golds aren't won off of how much you practice, they're won off of how much pain you're willing to take to be first." His hand returned this time, touching her thong, and he did not ask her permission when he tugged it down and out of the way. There was something in his voice now, something hard, as if he were about to give her a lesson that she had never expected. A low sigh leaving his throat as he gazed down at her perfect little holes on display. He had already spanked her ass ten times with that belt, just enough to make sure the heat of the act would be remembered. What more was he intending to do when he saidโฆ โฆ" Spread your legs wider, Julie." |
|
|
|
Julie flinched at his touch. The faintest of whimpers escaped her lips as she closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what was happening. He'd never touched her beforeโnot like that. He'd always used the belt, spanking her with it until her ass burned from the impact. It had always been somewhat professional, a standard procedure of sorts, but this time was different. She tried not to overthink it; perhaps he just got carried away. But when he squeezed her ass like he owned it, her entire body tensed. And in that moment, she was glad he couldn't see her face. And then it started, the pain. As if she wasn't already hurting. And every time the belt came flying, Julie flinched again. And again. And again. She winced every time, biting back tears as she counted silently in her head. He'd stop at tenโhe always didโso she just had to make it through the first nine. But that was more than enough. It made her ass sting and burn all over, and she knew she'd have trouble sitting on it later. And the burning sensation would linger for hours. . . but at least it took the focus away from her ankle for a bit. "I am not quitting," she muttered, sounding half offended yet extremely cautious. She already knew what he was telling her; he'd given her the lecture many times. It was all about the mind. But it didn't matter how much Julie wanted to stick her landing if her ankle gave out. She knew it wasn't broken, but what if it was? Sometimes she wondered how far he would push her. Even when she'd hurt her wrist, he'd made her do everything she could do. "I just needed a break," she explained. It wasn't even an excuse this time. She knew better than to pull up her tights too fast, but when she felt his fingers against her skin, her breath hitched. Frozen in place, she felt the air circling her naked folds as soon as the fabric got pulled down. He'd never done this before. The other times he'd allowed her to pull her tights up and leave. Why was this time different? Julie would be lying if she said she wasn't terrified. Not only of him but of what he might do. She felt so fucking exposed, so vulnerable. Not many people had seen her private parts, despite her constantly shaving to keep it smooth. She'd never thought her coach would see what was hidden between her legs, but then again, she'd never thought he would spank her with a belt either. Panic surged through her body when his next words filled the tiny room. "Iโ" Julie didn't know what to say. What exactly was he going to do? Afraid of what might happen if she refused, she moved her injured leg slightly to the side, spreading her legs as far as the tights around her thighs would allow her. She bowed her head in defeat, trying to calm herself while her mind was racing through all the possible scenarios, none of which was any good. "Please," she whispered. "Can't you just get me some ice?" |
|
|
|
How beautiful.
Vincent was not supposed to have that kind of reaction to one of his gymnasts, but that was just a foolish view society held. Everyone knew the truth, and everyone ignored it. Athletes were goddamn prime specimens of the human race. Their entire bodies sculpted and perfected for their chosen sport. That kind of dedication made them more than just simply beautiful, but the most attractive people on the planet, and here was one of them now bent over with her legs spreading so that he could perfectly see the exposed flesh of Julie's young sex and her tight little asshole. Most men would have considered themselves lucky to be in such a position, in fact they would have considered themselves blessed, but that was not necessarily the emotion that touched her Coach's heart. His head turned, the look of a predator raising its muzzle to sniff the air for danger, glancing over at the door of the small room to reassure himself that it was locked. No, there would be no interruption if he chose to take this particular lesson plan further than he had originally intended. Julie was right to be terrified; the silence was so full of tension you could cut it with a butter knife. Her coach was on the cusp of doing something he could never take back, but then again, part of his training curriculum involved spanking gymnasts with a belt. Was he really that worried about trouble? Fingers continued to touch her, prying the young woman's flesh open, his fingers reaching out to lightly brush over those trembling silken folds. But then he stopped touching her, instead his hand came back to undo his pants so he could pull free his thick prick. There was not even a hint of his asking permission; of seeking consent. It was as if the entire spectacle was as commonplace as ordering a meal at a restaurant. Nonchalant, unconcerned, and completely at ease with himself and what he was doing. Though that thick cock was certainly not relaxed, a pulsing living thing in his hand as he began to stroke himself right over Julie's perfect little rump. The erection that the man had looked excruciating, so viscerally hard that it seemed he must be in pain with how his hand gripped the shaft as he began jerking himself, a spatter of liquid spilling from the tip, precum dribbling down onto Julie's perfect unblemished skin. If her entreaty for ice was heard there was no immediate response given. Just the heavy breathing of a man in the throes of passion. And then โ slap. Suddenly the belt was in use once more, but this was not the way he had spanked her before. No, that leather found its way cruelly between her thighs as she bent over, smacking not just across her exposed rear end but also that most vulnerable of holes, her pussy. Vincent did not wait for her reaction before spanking her cunt again, his voice steady and determined. "We'll take care of you after you've learned your lesson. And that lesson isโฆ," his voice trailed off, as if waiting for her response, and it seemed like he was. The hand was pulled back, leather belt waiting to be used once more, to punish her if she said the wrong thing. If she gave the wrong answer. And all the while he continued to stroke himself. |
|
|
|
Julie didn't move. She just stood frozen in place, like she had been for the last few minutes. Her body was working, though. Her pulse was probably higher now than during most of her workout routines. Vincent knew how to push her to the limit, constantly pushing her to do better. To do it again and again and again, until it was perfect. When she felt his fingers between her legs, she tried to remind herself that she needed him. She knew that if she wanted to have a shot at winning goldโor winning anythingโshe needed him to coach her. And that meant that she had to take whatever punishment he saw fit.
Up until now, she had taken the ten lashes without complaints, hiding the pain and discomfort from him afterwards. But now he'd crossed a line. And the worst part about it was that she couldn't tell him. Because if she spoke up, if she tried to stop him. . . chances were he'd tell her parents she wasn't good enough, and that would be the end of her career. So, she kept her mouth shut while his fingers brushed against her folds. It made her body tense, but she stood her ground. At least he couldn't see her burning cheeks or her teary eyes. The humiliation was nothing like she'd ever experienced. So, when he retrieved his fingers, relief washed over herโperhaps he'd come to his senses. He hadn't. Julie could feel his presence. She didn't know to see his cock in order to know he had pulled it out. Or that it was hard. His breathing gave it away. The sickening truth of a man aroused by taking advantage of a girl at least half his age. A part of her expected him to rape her, and she waited for him to push his cock against herโinto her. She was so sure that it was only a matter of time before she'd feel his cock against her entrance, that she didn't let herself think of any other possible scenario. Which was why nothing could have prepared her for the pain that shot through her core when he struck her between the legs. A painful cry filled the small room, her body trembling from the pain and shock. She barely had time to register what had happened before he struck her again. Another cry filled the roomโlouder this timeโas the stinging pain between her legs caused her legs to wobble. She could no longer feel the pain in her ankle; all she could feel was the intense burning between her legs. "Please!" she sobbed, unable to hold back the tears that had threatened to surface ever since he spanked her butt. She didn't know what lesson he was referring to, but she wasn't about to let him strike her again, so she had to say something. Her pussy couldn't take another hit. Her knees were already struggling to keep her up, even though her arms supported most of her weight as she bent forward. But she couldn't put much pressure on her injured ankle, so it was only a matter of time before her good leg gave out. She took a deep breath, collecting herself so her voice wouldn't tremble too much. "I'll do better, I promise! I'll work twice as hard. PleaseโI've learned my lesson!" Now, that wasn't entirely true, because Julie wasn't one hundred percent sure what the lesson was; she just needed him to stop using the belt on her. She needed her pussy to stop hurting, not to mention her ass. And her ankle. . . What exactly was she supposed to do when she couldn't walk, sit, or stand properly? |
|
|
|
There was no confusion in the older man, there never was. That was one of the many virtues which Vincent happened to have, one of the reasons so many individuals chose him to train their prized offspring. Vincent never hesitated, he always acted, seemingly knowing where to either enhance or strength or reinforce a weakness. At times, the actions he took were brutal, but they were always correct, and as he heard Julieโs pleading voice, he knew he had found a weakness in her. Whether it was the pain she was experiencing, or the humiliation associated with it, her willpower was fracturing, and she was willing to listen to his demands. It would verifiably benefit her when it came time to get back into practice, but until then he had her pliable beneath his hands. The first step though was to remind her that there could be a light at the end of the tunnel, an end to his punishment of her, and so the belt stopped in its swings and the arm lowered to show that he had no intention of harming her again. That did not mean he had the intention of letting her leave that small confined changing room. No, not in the slightest, and his voice held that authoritative tone as he reached forward and touched that sore young cunt. Pure, absolute, heaven.
Had Coach ever done anything like this before with other students. Rumors abound, but the simple truth was not to this extent. There had been inappropriate actions, punishments like Julie had been forced to submit to, or touches that had lingered far too long. But never this, never the line overstepped to the point that a young woman was bent over with her ass in the air for his appraisal, her holes achingly held open for him to admire. The older man had still not stopped stroking, and in the silence of their breathing she could hear his hand moving still. Julie kept her eyes forward, afraid to look back, afraid to see what was happening, but could there even be a turning away from this? Her Coach stepped forward, coming near, slightly off to the side of her so that he could brush the velvet head of his circumcised shaft against the cheek of Julieโs backside, letting her feel a smear of precum wet against her skin. As if he were signing his name on her tight gymnastโs bottom. โI know you will do better, but you do not have to tell me, Julie. You only have to tell yourself. I see it in you, thatโs why I train you. I see greatness, and I see gold.โ The words were not softly spoken; this was not a man who showed gentleness or sincere concern for her emotional wellbeing. This was not a form of intimacy where he cared for her. But at least he was no longer striking her with the leather of the belt. And as she was left to wonder what was going to come next, Vincentโs other hand moved forward. The hand that was still loosely holding that cruel leather. But it was not the belt that touched her, but his fingertips once more, and this time he spread her sex. It was done with an expertโs touch, an experienced hand guiding the progress, though he was not necessarily focused on her pleasure. With a breathtaking suddenness a finger was pushed inside of her, forcing her to open to his demand, pressing past any resistance that might occur. Until that digit was buried to its bottom knuckle. โI believe in you.โ |