When the Music's Over

“A...aahh,” Irene moaned softly as Jessica kept teasing her. The simple massage her loins were experiencing felt wonderful, but just when Irene was starting to relax, Jessica shoved a finger in her mouth and dragged the embarassed and confused girl into the bathroom. A strong hand grasped the back of her head, and before she knew it, Irene was awkwardly bent over with her head under a running faucet.

“Gaah, Jes...phbbt...stop!” Irene yelped, alarmed as traces of the running water found its way into her mouth and ears. She really was as wet as a slip and slide in August, and Irene started struggling to free herself, twisting her head from side to side to try and wrench it free from Jessica's powerful grasp. Despite what the Violent Violet thought, Irene wasn't a perfect sub. She was ruled by her emotions and her desires, like any person, and right now she was feeling too burned to take her punishment in stride, especially when that punishment involved being drowned in a sink.

“I only wanted a kiss, dammit! What on Earth happened to make you so cruel?!” Irene griped before her face was subsumed by water again. After panicking, she realized it was easy for her to keep breathing if she kept her head straight and didn't struggle. Knowing this, she reluctantly gave in to Jessica's desires and allowed herself to be drenched. It was a good opportunity to wash some of the cum out of her hair, and she angled her head to do just that while she waited for Jessica to release her.

Jessica let go and took a step back. She looked at Irene with deadly intensity. Perhaps it was a bit tacky to show her sheer power over and over but it seemed like Irene was just not getting the message. Girls who got beat up didn't get to ask for anything. Girls who were weak didn't get to ask anything. Girls who were in the home of Jessica Wright didn't get to ask questions. "Now you wanna be my fucking therapist?"

No, if Irene truly wanted a kiss, she was going to have to earn it. The girl had stopped struggling so much a minute or two before Jessica backed off her. Jessica had been the ring leader tonight, and she did it the way she usually did, with overwhelming force. But Jessica reckoned she would change the pace a little bit. "Listen, sweetie. You have done nothing to earn a kiss from these honey lips. My other lips have already kissed you, so you should be grateful. But if you want to be awarded with a kiss from these lips," Jessica gestured, "you are going to have to do something really crazy."

"So humiliate yourself. Debase yourself. The lower you let yourself sink, the more likely you are to be blessed with a kiss. And if you do not do anything I find appropriate for my stature, I will of course use you as a punching bag. I haven't had my workout today, after all. So what'll it be?" Jessica let the silence overtake both of them. Time to see what Irene would do.

As far as Irene was concerned, Jessica really did need a therapist. This was the woman who had mauled Avery and ended her career over the outcome of a single match, after all. Jessica would murder Irene if she said anything like that, however, so the science girl held her tongue. Free of Jessica's grasp, she turned the cold water faucet off and stood face to face with her mistress, black hair dripping all over the floor. She expected more harsh treatment, but she pursed her lips once she heard Jessica's ultimatum. The open-ended order – to do something gratifying for Jessica at the cost of whatever dignity she had left – caught her off guard.

She didn't like Jessica's offer. Irene was a smart girl, but when she tried to think of some kinky form of degradation to subject herself to, she came up empty. Already naked, dripping wet, and covered in bruises plus Jessica's cum, she was at the lowest she'd ever been...the humble prisoner of a woman who could bring the utmost pleasure or pain to her. Frankly, the little bit of dignity that she had left wasn't worth a single kiss.

Irene stared at Jessica, increasingly nervous as the silence persisted. Jessica might start her punching bag treatment if Irene didn't say something, so she made a counter-offer that Jessica might not be expecting. “The only thing I have left that you haven't taken for yourself is my experience and knowledge with submission holds. What if I offered to train with you? We could head down to the Friction gym tomorrow and practice together. You're already great, don't get me wrong, but I'd love to help you by teaching you some of my techniques...and then have you practice them on me. I won't even ask for a kiss in return, unless you change your mind and decide you want to. Does that sound okay?”

What on earth was wrong with this girl. Not only was she not going to degrade herself, but Irene thought that she had something to teach Jessica. How delightfully absurd. Jessica scoffed then looked at Irene sideways. It wasn't like Jessica was a submission specialist by any means, but chances were that she still knew more than Irene. This girl was a young pup and Jessica was experienced, in more ways than one.

"I doubt you have a goddamn thing to teach me. But I will kick your ass, again, if that's what you want. I am more than happy to do that. But for right now, I am hungry. Go make me something woman." Jessica did not deign to dignify Irene's remark about the kiss with a response. It just seemed so tacky. But whatever. Her sexual needs had been met tonight and now her more basic needs were going to be met.

"I don't train very nicely." Jessica spat as she walked out of the bathroom. The Violent Violet weighed her options as she walked out of the bathroom and found her way to the kitchen. She sat at the table and waited for Irene to make her her dinner.

Irene frowned at Jessica's harsh response, barely suppressing the urge to shake her head in disgust. This woman really thought she was god's gift to the world, didn't she? No wonder she had wrapped herself up in a feud with Taylor and her crew. Being reminded that she wasn't insurmountable really did a number on her stability, and Irene was hopeful that she could show Jessica that she wasn't as weak as Jessica thought.

Right now, though, she was still a slave, and she had gotten thrashed around enough to obey her mistress without question, at least when it came to simple tasks. “Yes, ma'am,” Irene replied. She was about to walk out of the bathroom when she remembered the rule that Jessica had set for her this morning: she needed to crawl to the kitchen instead of walk. Unwilling to risk more brutality, Irene got down on all fours and crawled across the apartment, ideas buzzing in her head regarding their dinner. She didn't know many recipes, so she would have to gamble on Jessica liking the food she was capable of making. Or tolerating it, at least. She got to work assembling ingredients on the kitchen counter, leaving Jessica to her own devices for the moment.

Jessica rested her head on her hand as she eyed Irene. The scientist crawled like Jessica bid, so she would have to release her anger a different way. Maybe on whatever dinner Irene was going to concoct for her. Her naked body shifted in the chair. She wasn't properly exhausted yet but she was feeling pretty tired. Dominating a girl took it out of her, even if her captive hadn't gone full subby yet.

"You knew I was going to win." Jessica stated. The words came out with an even tone as if Jessica was reading from a book. It was more of a fact than an opinion. "From the moment the bell went off you knew I was going to win. Probably beforehand." Jessica sat up and looked for a reaction. There was no question at the end of it. There was nothing at all in fact. The Violent Violet just wanted to see how the girl would take it.

Jessica's fridge was chock full of all sorts of goodies. Well, goodies for Jessica. Lean chicken and veggies, rice out the wazzoo, and Mexican tortillas. Plus an ungodly amount of hotsauce. The little scientist was going to have to figure out how to put it together like an engineer, she thought with a chuckle.

Seeing the ingredients present in Jessica's kitchen, Irene quickly abandoned her pizza plan. Jessica's cuisine choices had a more rural, rugged flavor to them. The Violent Violet had grown up somewhere in the Midwest; maybe these foods had been a favorite of hers way back when. Not that Irene cared. Jessica was a pretty rough person to interact with, and not just in bed. She was hard-boiled and antisocial, and Irene was beginning to think that trying to get to know her better was a lost cause.

Irene thought hard for a minute and came up with a recipe on the fly. She could combine the chicken breasts, rice, peas, and sauces in the fridge into a single dish that she believed would taste good with the combined ingredients. It was a rather sloppy idea, the kind of concoction that people came up with under pressure, but Irene went ahead with it. She got to work, multi-tasking to cook the rice, peas, and chicken in different heating devices. She didn't want to keep Jessica waiting.

While she was pulling some onions out of nearby cabinets, Jessica threw another barb at her. It stung more than the others, since it forced Irene to confront the reality that she really hadn't had much of a chance in their fight. “I...I wanted to win, to get some revenge on Avery's behalf. I was a fan of hers, and what you did to her was god-damned revolting.” Her tone wasn't sarcastic, and the comment wasn't intended as an insult. It was somber, and dead serious.

The Violent Violet made no comment as Irene rifled through her cabinets and concocted a meal from nothing. Irene had mostly guessed right, but Jessica was not about to show it. The Violent Violet would eat tonight. Then she started talking. The girl's tone belied a sort of seriousness that Jessica could appreciate. Maybe it was time to drop the mean girl attitude. Maybe after all this time, Jessica could talk.

"Listen. You know what this fed is. You know what the girls here can do. When I learned to wrestle, I learned that no one gives a shit if you win. Most of the crowd is cheering for one of the girls to go down hard and they don't care if that girl is you. The one who wins the fight is the one who is the most vicious nine times out of ten. I am not going to apologize for that. I am not going to apologize for anything. If you don't agree with it, you can go post about it on the internet with the rest of the dweebs, see if I care. It is in the past and that is where it is going to stay. You were in my way, and now you are cooking for me. I am the most vicious. I will have the belt." Jessica's tone matched Irene's for the most part, save for a few hints of anger that shone through. This was one of the first times she had spoken candidly and openly about this in a long time. She didn't feel any need to get it off her chest, but she was happy to get it off anyways.

She looked upon Irene's body once again. That had been her personal sex toy, and tomorrow it was going to be her punching bag. But for right now it was beautiful and Jessica was just going to look at it. There was some strength there. Some endurance. But the scientist needed more. "I have never been the one to give advice, but here goes. Don't fight for other people. Other people can change and quit and fail. Fight for yourself. All the time. Respect yourself, trust yourself. You will go further."

Irene got two bowls out and started arranging ingredients inside them. The chicken went in first, followed by a coating of sauce to help the otherwise bland taste that healthy food tended to have. Once that was done, she started accenting it with the rice and chicken. It smelled good and looked edible, at least, but Irene was hoping that Jessica was just as hungry as she was. If so, she probably wouldn't be too picky about the details.

After fishing a pair of forks out of a drawer nearby, Irene tip-toed over to Jessica and set the larger bowl in front of her. The second bowl was Irene's, and although she needed the nutrition, she didn't need to sit at the table. To placate Jessica's need for superiority, Irene sprawled out on the floor on her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows and crossing her legs behind her. It was a pose straight out of an erotic calendar, one that Jessica might enjoy ogling.

“Thanks for the advice, Jessica,” Irene said, pausing to pop some chicken into her mouth. “The last person I opened up to wound up dumping me in the end, so I can appreciate the loner attitude you seem to have. Just remember one thing: any idiot can ambush a rival backstage and break them with a weapon. If you want that belt, you'll need to be better than that. At the very least, keep the bloodshed in the ring next time. Otherwise it's a total waste.”

Jessica took the first bite. It was good. Someone once told her that she should never do anything out of hunger, not even eating, but she eschewed that advice here. She devoured her food as she listened to Irene. Listened and looked. The girl was sprawled out on the floor like she needed fucking and Jessica smirked. The Violent Violet did not bother with a fork like a civilized human being.

"Whatever. She is not a threat to me anymore. And it isn't like I have been doing poorly now, is it?" She took another big bite of her dinner. It filled her, gave her energy which had been taken out of her by a long day. "There is no better than that. There is a long climb there, and this climb breaks people. Break or get broken. Call me a monster, call me a bitch, call me a loner or whatever. But no one is going to call me naive. You have never wrestled before coming here, have you? I have. When I was back in the indies women would be at each other's throats over peanuts. What is reasonable here? If a girl is trying to break my neck in some dingy gym in bumfuck Minnesota, why wouldn't a girl try the same shit here?" Jessica looked off in the distance as she went through her spiel. There was no anger or anything. Just quiet acceptance. This was the world she lived in.

She gulped down the rest of the food. Jessica was hungrier than she thought she had been. Either that, or the food was better than she had first reckoned. Either way, her stomach was full and she was now happy.