When the Music's Over

The earth moved. No, wait. It didn't. But Irene certainly did. Jessica found it humorous that Irene thought she could take her leave of her without her permissions. The heavy arm that wrapped around Irene's waist began to wrap even more tightly. Maybe Irene the plastic toy that had aroused her so much the night before against her sweet little ass. The Violent Violet chuckled softly. A whole weekend...this was going to be fun.

Jessica rolled to the other side. "Cook two slices of bacon first. Keep the grease in the pan. Then three eggs, all scrambled. Don't skimp on the hot sauce. Arrange it on a plate, all neat and shit. Glass of orange juice. Put it on the table." Her order was mumbled and only partially coherent. She then rested, supine and laid her hand on her forehead. The pain the next morning was always worse than she thought it would be, but it still hurt pretty damn bad. The thought of her pet, though, seemed to wash that all away.

"Oh. And you don't get to walk like a person. While you're in this apartment you are going to crawl on your hands and knees. Like a slave." Jessica's eyes were still closed but if they were open they would be twinkling with lascivious mischief and unrestrained delight. The night before, she had been nice. Today was going to be misery for the poor loser.

Irene couldn't help but tremble a bit as Jessica pulled her close. The dildo she had used last night was still attached, and feeling it poke and rub against her ass gave her a visceral reminder of what Jessica had done with it last night. For now, however, Jessica had more mundane requests in mind. It was no surprise that she wanted to use her servant for something other than sex, but Irene still frowned at the woman as she gave out breakfast orders. After her heart had soared at the prospect of being able to fall in bed with a lover at her side, being reminded that Jessica only thought of her as a piece of vagina property left her moping. On top of that, the order that she crawl on her hands and knees like a pet lit her face up with indignation.

“Don't forget to threaten me with a spanking if I disobey you,” Irene said, only half joking. The girl had a fetish for spanking, and would have to convince Jessica to indulge her later, but right now, it was breakfast time. Irene crawled out of Jessica's bedroom, showing no signs of disobedience. Once she was out of earshot, however, Irene stood right back up and walked to the kitchen, feeling no impetus to crawl while Jessica wasn't around to witness it. Besides, she needed to reach the kitchen counter while she cooked, and that meant standing up. Upon her arrival, Irene had some decent cooking skills to call upon. Years of college dorm rooms would do that for a girl. She greased the pan and fried the bacon, burning it a little as she didn't eat bacon very often. Next came the eggs, spiced to perfection. She laid everything out on a plate, poured orange juice, and placed everything on the small table nearby.

Once her orders had been carried out, Irene laid eyes on a coffee maker, a cereal box, and some fruit that were all in view. Her stomach growled loudly, painfully. She hadn't eaten dinner last night, and she was starving. Irene licked her lips, wanting to eat, but she was afraid of what Jessica might do if she caught Irene raiding her supplies without permission. Maybe she could “earn” her breakfast somehow. For the moment, she merely stood still and listened, attempting to discern the sounds of movement in the bedroom to find out whether or not Jessica had been roused by the smell of bacon.

Jessica smiled. This girl was still defiant, still unabashed in her attempts to defy her. Breaking girls was half the fun, and that is fully what Jessica intended to do. Jessica undid the strap on and rather ungraciously dropped it on the floor next to her bed. The smell of breakfast wafted through her room and it smelled fucking delightful. I should really have slaves more often, she thought. Jessica sat up on the bed slowly, and then stood up. There was no point in getting clothes on, she reckoned. She would just as soon take them all off.

The Violent Violet meandered into the kitchen. She had left some of her crap out. Dang. She would have to clean it. No, wait, Irene would have to clean it. What else were slaves for? Jessica noticed the very food she ordered on the table, hot and ready to go. But that could wait. The exigency at the moment was setting the record straight. Jessica strode over to Irene and grabbed a clump of her dark hair. She pulled her a bit away from the stove. "You think this is a fucking joke? When I say crawl," Jessica let go of Irene's hair and brought her legs out from under her with a low sweep, "you fucking crawl. Did you think I wasn't going to hear that shit?" Jessica knew every inch of this apartment. She knew that the washing machine made enough noise to deafen a rock star, she knew that the kitchen cabinets creaked like they were made in 1873, and she knew the sound of someone walking across the floor. Irene walked. She would have to be shown that was a fatal error.

She gave her a kick. It wasn't as strong as a kick in the ring would have been, but it still certainly hurt. Jessica walked over to her kitchen table. Despite the seething rage in her words, the Violent Violet looked cool and collected. The eggs and bacon began to go down noisily. "Crawl over. Lay at my feet." Jessica barked through mouthfuls of food.

Irene was too distracted by the alluring food on Jessica's shelves to notice how much danger she was in, but as soon as she felt Jessica seize her hair in a firm grip, she knew she had been caught. “Wait, I...!” Irene tried to protest as Jessica yanked on her locks, but her cries were silenced when Jessica swept her legs out from under her. The kitchen floor wasn't like the canvas of a wrestling ring; it hadn't been made with the goal of absorbing impacts in mind. When Irene hit the ground, falling on her lower back, the pain that surged through her rivaled most of what had happened in her bout with Jessica last night. A shrill, surprised scream gave away how much pain she was in, but a kick to her exposed side stunned her to the point where she couldn't even do that. She rolled around on the ground for a moment, and when she looked back up at Jessica, she was terrified.

“A-alright, I'm sorry. I'll crawl, I'll crawl!” Irene sobbed, cowering like an abused housewife. She wasn't a weak person by any means, but her body had been through so much in the last 24 hours. She was hungry, thirsty, and her hips were aching like they had been broken. It pained her to realize, but she would have to do as she was told, without fail. Otherwise, she might be in real danger. After all, there were no cameras in here to see what Jessica did to her.

Irene pushed herself up on all fours and crept under the table, as if it would shield her from Jessica's wrath. Only the lower half of Jessica's body was visible to Irene as she huddled at her mistress' feet...but what a beautiful half it was. Briefly distracted from her hunger, Irene remembered that she owed Jessica an orgasm for last night. No way she was going to make the first move on satisfying the woman, not before Jessica gave the order. Right now, Irene stayed still, with only the loud growls from her stomach to let Jessica know how malnourished her pet was.

Jessica crossed her legs under the table, uncrossed them, then crossed them again, this time left leg over the right. It was nice to have some sustenance after such a long night. She had enjoyed every second of it, of course, but that was not to say that it wasn't really goddamn long. She wolfed down the eggs and slurped down the orange juice. But her pet must be so hungry as well and she was going to have an exceptionally exhausting weekend ahead of her. She would have to be fed of course, but not in a matter befitting a real woman let alone a real wrestler. Irene would be fed according to her station.

The Violent Violet strode over to the cupboard, which in its turn relinquished a bowl. She dumped some of the disgusting tasting but healthy cereal into a bowl and added a few splashes of milk. Jessica then set it on the ground near her feet without comment and went back to her breakfast. There were still a few scraps left. And they went down damn fast.

The woman now under her seemed to respond well to Jessica's little attack. That bode well for how she could be brought to heel. After all, the scientist did not require a microscope to see that Jessica was bigger and stronger and quite a bit nastier. No, Irene, you will not be getting a spoon. You have not yet earned that. She crossed her legs again to remind the dark haired beauty of another thing she would not be getting. At least not yet.

It didn't surprise Irene that Jessica preferred healthy cereal to cereal that tasted good. She was a career nut who didn't do anything if it couldn't somehow further her wrestling ambitions. Her diet, among other things, had been made to serve that ambition. In fact, maybe Jessica could bend Irene to that ambition as well. They had a whole weekend together, and there was plenty of pent up frustration between them, so what if they sparred? Jessica would get a chance to hone her skills on a deceptively durable test subject, and Irene could teach Jessica some submissions. Taylor had once strangled Jessica into unconsciousness with a chain, but Irene knew several ways to get the same result without such tactics.

Irene eagerly accepted the bowl from Jessica. There was no concern for the lack of a spoon as Irene tilted the bowl to start leveraging the contents into her mouth. Sustenance was far more important than pride. Judging from her posture, Jessica was in no hurry to have another round in bed with Irene, but both of them knew it was coming, and Irene needed to be ready. She was still feeling sluggish, and if Jessica allowed it, she would change that.

“Can I make some coffee for the two of us?” Irene asked, face dripping with milk as she stared up from below. The voracious woman would certainly drink most of whatever coffee got prepared, but Irene didn't need much.

Jessica rested back in her chair. It was too early in the morning to deal with incessant questions from this bitch. Jessica leaned over and looked at Irene. Straight in the eye. "I will have black tea. No sugar. You can get whatever." Jessica dismissively waved her hands towards the cupboards as if to provide Irene even the faintest sense of direction.

She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. Irene was going to be her slave for the whole weekend. They would be having lots of humiliating sex, of course, but Jessica was still a wrestler. She still had to practice. Which meant that she might have to put some clothes on at some point, which sucked, but that was a cruel necessity. Maybe she could take Irene to the little AFW gym and see how badly she failed at keeping up. Wouldn't that be a nice little display of sheer power.

No, sex was off the table for the next little bit. She doubted the poor girl could even handle it. But wrestling which led to sex was always fun. Jessica's apartment wasn't exactly big, but there was always the bed, or the living room. The Violent Violet looked over at Irene. "Why do you suck at wrestling so much?" She asked bluntly.

“Thanks, Jessica,” Irene moved out from beneath the table and crawled over to the cupboards of Jessica's kitchen. She couldn't reach anything on all fours, though, so Irene was forced to stand up in order to start collecting tools and ingredients together. Jessica's tastes were uniformly revolting, not that Irene would ever tell her that. She set a tea kettle and a coffee pot side by side and started boiling the water she would need to make everything. While she was at it, Irene grabbed a banana and started peeling it since Jessica had given her permission to “get whatever”.

Irene grimaced when Jessica brought up her lack of skill in the ring, leveling a bitter frown at the woman that quickly softened into a retrospective, unfocused stare. As much as Irene wanted to defend herself, maybe call Jessica out for nearly succumbing to one or two of her holds in the ring, she couldn't. Jessica was a better wrestler than her, and her arrogance had been earned.

“I don't have any formal or informal training, I'm small enough to qualify for the Kawaii leagues, and I don't have much time to practice,” Irene replied, giving Jessica's blunt question an equally blunt answer. “Most of all, though, my skill is limited by the fact that, unlike you, I don't plan to make a career out of this. I'm a chemistry student at the University of Tokyo, aiming for a doctorate, and I needed a job. The AFW gives surprisingly good pay and promised a break from my dreary school life. Didn't disappoint.” Once Irene finished talking, she turned back to the counter to get their drinks ready.

There was a flicked of recognition on her face. At least the girl realized that. Jessica wheeled towards Irene and spread her legs ever so slightly. When the little scientist girl turned around she might catch a glimpse of Jessica's sex. As much as she hated to admit it she loved attracting gazes and Irene hardly seemed like the type to resist. Most of the time it only worked on guys, but Jessica already had proof that the darkhaired girl was ready and willing. And it sounded like she had quite a little brain in that head.

But Jessica's muscles were far bigger, and they weren't exactly in a lecture hall. So this was clearly her territory. Jessica had sent a girl packing to the kawaii leagues, and went as far as to fuck her too. This was a repeat performance and one she could get used to.

A thing she was not prepared to get used to, however, was all the lip Irene was throwing her. Unlike you? A wrestler was a damn good thing to be. It was something Jessica felt she had to be. And she was not going to let a slave disparage that. "Crawl over here. And come kiss my foot. You're not going to be respectful when you talk to me." Eggheads were not allowed to speak to real women like that, not at all.

Irene didn't pass up the chance to glimpse Jessica's uncovered body, and her reaction was to shiver with anticipation. Her womanhood was less interesting than her muscles, however. Irene was a masochist, and having stronger people overpower and abuse her body was her secret turn-on. Past lovers of hers had been too nice or prudish to appreciate her preference for pain and pleasure, but Jessica was neither kind nor prudish. In a way, Irene felt more at home with Jessica than she did with anyone else she'd met in the AFW or at her college. It was just too bad that Jessica didn't see her as anything more than a toy to be used and discarded, because having a strange “enemies with benefits” relationship with this woman was exhilarating.

Despite her lust, Irene couldn't stop herself from frowning and rolling her eyes when Jessica got defensive over Irene's career comments. “I wasn't trying to make you angry,” Irene pouted. “I only said that you have a different career than me. I didn't say it was any worse, did I?” Even as she attempted to argue with Jessica, Irene wouldn't disobey her order. Crawling over to her goddess' feet, Irene bent down, puckered her lips, and started lavishing one of Jessica's arches with soft, sensitive kisses. Aroused by the smooth curves of Jessica's feet, Irene put a generous amount of effort into fulfilling the woman's wishes, moving further down to kiss and savor her toes one at a time.