Ice Queen Cuckcake Pt. 01

But then she wondered...did she have any right to judge him, for that stiff cock in his pants, when she was doing the same thing. Getting turned on thinking about being seduced and dominated by this Nordic goddess. The only difference between him and her was that he wasn't able to hide his arousal.

Really, she'd been getting wet at the thought of the two of them before he ever met Joanna.

"I can see you two have a lot to think about." Joanna said, marching over to them and glancing completely unsubtly at Mark's raging cock. He blushed profusely and his arousal only worsened, straining harder against his sleek shorts to plunge into the pussy that it sensed was home.

Juan grabbed Joanna's arm before she could leave and Joanna actually looked surprised. Good. The bitch deserved to have that smug look stripped from her fucking beautiful face. "Mark, can you let me talk to Joanna for a moment?" She asked.

Mark looked conflicted about leaving this area of the gym, which was relatively self-contained and showing off his pants-tent to the rest of the gym. But one look in Juan's stony black eyes was all he needed to motivate himself to be anywhere else.

"Yeah, of course. I'll uh...I'll be over by the vending machines..." He said with a little smile.

Joanna watched him go, unrepentantly checking out his tight ass.

"What is wrong with you?" Juan demanded.

Joanna looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow."

"Are you stalking me? Did you ask me about my husband just so that you could shove your pussy in his face?" Juan snarled. She was attracting looks from the few people nearby. She didn't care. She wasn't about to be shown up by this nymphomaniac narcissist.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Joanna said, running a hand through her hair and looking utterly uninterested in Juan's outrage. "I picked out your husband because he had a Finnish name and I wanted to train with a Finnish man."

"What are you some kind of white nationalist?!" Juan demanded.

Joanna's expression darkened and it was worse than the time that Juan had struck her. "Just because I am proud of my heritage and all my people have been through does not mean that I am a Nazi."

"Oh yeah? Because you're always talking about it...including talking about my husband like he's a piece of meat!" Juan seethed.

Joanna smiled and Juan felt with sickening certainty that she had fallen into some kind of trap lain specifically in her name. "It is not MY fault that you're husband is so sexually frustrated..." Joanna said, inspecting her nails. "Perhaps if you had taken my advice and dressed as he would like you, instead of as an androgynous cog in the machine, he wouldn't have gotten so worked up."

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Juan screeched. "I'm not gonna stand here and have you blame me for you being a slu-!"

Joanna's hand snapped out of Juan's grip like it was a dry branch then slapped across her face, hard. Juan was sent flying face first into the smelly wrestling mat. Juan lay there on the floor, her stinging cheek pressed to the mat, her eyes welling, her lungs clenched in terror for what Joanna might do next.

"This is what I am talking about when I am making mention of your childishness." Joanna said, returning to inspect her nails, although this time to be sure she didn't break one in bitch-slapping the smaller woman. "The moment you don't get your way, you resort to name calling. You are afraid that you're a bad wife, so you insult me. You say that I am a Nazi, you say that I am slut. You say whatever you like with no attention to my feelings or the feelings of your husband so you can feel better about yourself."

Juan tried to get up but felt a palm grab the back of her head, preventing her from doing more than kneeling. "Fuck you..." She heard herself saying despite the terror drying up her throat.

Joanna bent slightly and her fingers drew long, condescending strokes through Juan's short black hair. "You see. You insult someone bigger and stronger than you and then you act like it is their fault that you are punished for it. Your sole weapon is your ability to play the victim, to pretend to be a martyr for others. You spend all your time at work, you let your body become soft and saggy while your husband keeps himself fit. You neglect his needs for your own selfish ends and then get angry when he seeks to fill them without you. You are not a bad wife...you are a parasite, a pathetic worm who latches onto those stronger than you to draw your power from them. A little girl who is too frightened of her own smallness to act anything but big..." Joanna leaned close, just as she had not to long ago in Juan's office. Only this time, Juan was paralyzed by the thought of what she might do next. "You keep a beautiful piece of man-meat like that man's cock all to yourself, even though you know, deep down, you can never please it." Joanna whispered. "Like a miser hoards money, you keep that dick all to yourself...you are a selfish, self-righteous bitch...a withered nag trying to keep her gorgeous stallion away from all the youthful mares. You take your happiness from other people. You disgust me." She punctuated the last statement by hocking a wet loogie straight into Juan's eye, smearing her eyeliner and making her whimper and cringe in humiliation and disgust.

Then she let go of Juan, shoving her to the mat and marching off in the direction of the lockers. Juan could only lay there for a moment, drowning in fear and mortification. Eventually, it occurred to her to pull out her cellphone. To call the police on Joanna before she left the premises. To accuse her of assault, which she had just done.

Maybe spending a few months as a lesbo bitch in some super-max with roided up bull dykes would teach her not to harass people who were smarter than her.

But by the time that thought had occurred to her, Mark had returned, carrying with him a soda for her and, finding her lying on the mat shivering, with drool dripping down her face, he was so concerned for her and so insistent on getting her home and away from danger, that Juan discarded the notion. She had all of Joanna's contact information. If she wanted to sic the police on her, she could do anything she wanted. Better not to act in haste and possibly mess everything up until she'd talked with her lawyer.

They didn't make love that night. Instead, they lay together with Mark holding her and promising her that he was going to keep her safe and that he would never do anything to hurt her or let anyone hurt her willingly.

But all Juan could think about was his cock. How stiff and thick it had grown in Joanna's presence and how it now pressed limp and flaccid against her tiny body. She sobbed herself to sleep that night, thinking about what Joanna had said.

***

"So...what are my options?"

Juan was sitting across the desk from Ahnika Walsh, her and Mark's lawyer. Ahnika had worked with Juan's father before her and was one of the most dependable and competent people that Juan knew, even if she could occasionally be devastatingly blunt.

She made Juan nervous. She'd always made Juan nervous. Crimped black hair encircled her severe face, and her heavily applied make-up always gave the impression of a painted warrior about to go into battle.

"Well, as far as harassment is concerned, you don't have much of a case." Ahnika said, as she reviewed what Juan had written down about her encounters with Joanna.

"Really?" Juan was surprised and became somewhat nervous, afraid that meant there was nothing the law could do.

"Yeah...you'd have to prove that she went specifically to that gym to intimidate you and since you didn't even tell Mark that you were coming, there's no way she could have known."

"But...her being around Mark..."

"Doesn't prove that she's stalking you." Ahnika said. "You've also got a much weaker case if you're trying to prove that it's Mark's life she's ruining."

Juan stared at the carpeted floor of the office in distress.

"Now, assault...you've got pretty good evidence of that as far as her hitting you. And because she spat on you, we could even prosecute it as if it was a hate-crime."

"But...that won't get me a restraining order on her, will it?" Juan asked.

Ahnika sighed. "I could talk to the judge about offering her a bargain where she receives the restraining order instead of jail time. But if she turns it down, and she serves her full sentence, there's nothing we can do to stop her coming after you and Mark as soon as she gets out."

Juan contemplated it for a moment. Did she really want to send Joanna to jail? She was a bitch, obviously. She was unhinged too. It seemed to her that Joanna needed mental rehabilitation for her narcissistic personality, not time behind bars.

"Is there a way we could demand she go to therapy as part of the bargain?" Juan asked.

Ahnika winced. "We're starting to get on shakier ground here. We could demand it, but given the costs of therapy and the court costs, the judge might rule it unreasonable for her having to pay the fine for your emotional damages as well. You said she was an attractive white woman, right?"

Juan nodded, trying not to think too hard about just how attractive Joanna was.

"Yeah, so that judge is probably going to go light on her. Which means there's probably not going to be much to enforce those therapy visits..."

The door opened then and Ahnika's newest secretary (it seemed like she went through them like Cleanex) was stepping inside.

"I have the contract for the Dawson case, Miss Walsh." She says, as she tip-toes over to the desk.

"Finally! Did you manage not to screw up the name of the landowner this time?" Anhika asked.

The secretary blushed and cast a glance at Juan, then nodded vehemently.

"Good." Anhika said, with a dismissive gesture.

The secretary glanced at Juan again, as if about to ask for help escaping this job. Then she hurried back out the way she came, gingerly closing the door behind her.

"In any case, I recommend you make your decision soon." Anhika said, as she flipped open the new file. "The longer we take to report her, the worse it is going to look."

Juan nodded. "I-I'll have a talk with Mark and get back to you."

Anhika nodded, her mechanical mind already switching onto the day's next task.

***

Juan remembered high school. It had been just after her family moved to America. She'd been studying English in preparation, so translation issues hadn't been so bad. But she'd been the only Singaporean girl there. The Chinese and Japanese American girls had all looked down on her. And the only boy who'd paid her the slightest attention had been Martin.

Well, he had paid her attention. Until Jennifer came along. She had been the new girl too. She'd been two years younger than Juan too, who'd been a senior at this point. But while Juan had shriveled under attention and hid from notice her entire high school career, Jennifer had immediately bloomed. All the alpha bitches wanted her at their table. All the boys were suddenly lining up to carry her books for her.

Jennifer could have had any boy she'd wanted. But she picked Martin.

Juan had been tentatively looking forward to losing her virginity to Martin. Then she came into school one day to find him with his tongue in Jennifer's mouth. She'd just stood there in shock, until they finally disentangled. Martin had at least had the decency to look embarrassed. But Jennifer had just smiled at her.

Later on, when she tried to confront Jennifer about it in the bathrooms, she'd been humiliated again. Jennifer had easily overpowered her, getting her into a headlock and holding her there until Juan apologized for "being a whiny little bitch" and through tears begged Jennifer to keep seeing Martin. Jennifer had threatened to even dunk Juan's face in the toilet and Juan, in panic and mortification had wiggled out of her grasp and gone sprinting from the bathrooms, never to challenge or confront her, or any pretty white girl her size again.

Well, until now. Juan had spent her whole time at college terrified of a repeat of high school, refusing to get close to men or women. She'd thrown herself into her studies and into her internships, which eventually rewarded her with enough connections to get a high paying job at a prestigious business. With success in her career, she'd eventually rebuilt confidence, but only enough for one-night stands. She'd refused to enter relationships, where she could again be betrayed.

Then she met Mark. And he'd was so beautiful, so full of vibrancy and strength, so energetic and romantic, that she couldn't let him go so easily. It had seemed like a fantasy that he would ever pick her. Even when they'd been dating, her anxieties had gnawed at her, that he would find someone better and she would be alone again. Right up until the moment he proposed. Finally, she'd felt secure in their relationship. Finally, she'd felt relief from the trauma of what had happened in high school.

And now this. She lay next to him in bed, unable to work up the courage to ask him the questions burning in her chest. Did you like it? Did you like her? Do you want her? How many of your clients do you find attractive?

She wanted to pounce on him, to drive him wild with the rubbing of her hips and the bounce of her butt, until he ravaged her. Until he was so delirious with lust that he wouldn't be thinking about that blonde bitch. Until he was hers again, body and heart, mind and soul. She didn't care if she climaxed, as long as he did. As long as she proved Joanna wrong. She wasn't a selfish lover. She wasn't holding onto something that wasn't hers. She was worthy of him.

She wanted to prove it.

Instead, she lay there staring at the wall and waiting to fall asleep. Waiting for unconsciousness to take away all the pain and all the fear.

She hated herself. Far more than she hated Joanna. She hated how weak she was. Not physically weak, no, there were people smaller, people with less mobility who were far stronger than her. No, mentally weak. Weak enough that she couldn't confront her own husband. Weak enough that she wanted to please him when she should be nothing angry at him. Weak enough to let others get away with hurting her.

She balled her fists in the covers and screwed her eyes shut. The whole wide world was rotten. She could say it was because she was a woman, because the expectations placed on a woman were unfair. She could say it was because the veil of white exceptionalism made her alien and ugly. But deep down she knew that there were people like her, all over this country. People who were strong enough to stand up for themselves, to not allow themselves to be made inadequate and inferior. There were women with far less who'd done much more, women without a nice house, a great job, and an expensive education, who wouldn't have tolerated such behavior.

Finally, when sleep failed to come, she rolled out of bed and headed to her home office. She almost never used it, but that night she spent several hours pushing her way through work, before finally exhausting herself enough to collapse on the couch downstairs. She didn't want to lie in that big bed and feel Mark's heat pool into the sheets beside her. Somehow, it would feel lonelier.

***

Juan stirred that morning to Mark pressing a kiss to her cheek. Still, she pretended to still be asleep until he'd gone. She couldn't face him, not yet. She still needed to think about this, to dwell in her rage and her fear a little while longer. It wasn't fair that she should have to process it all at once.

She was looking forward to work, to the distraction it would provide. Even though she knew she would be late for work, she was too exhausted too really worry about it. Besides, she was the boss of her division, she should be allowed the grace to come in late once or twice a year. And now that she had Isabel, everything would be easier. She could offload some of her work. And she could discuss what had happened with Isabel, determine how to proceed with Ahnika. She'd always been tougher than Juan. She'd know what to do, she'd tell Juan how angry she should be. She'd give her the courage to stand up to her.

When she came into the office that day though, she found Isabel wasn't at her desk. Joanna was, sitting there, playing a mobile game on her phone. She glanced up at Juan briefly. This time there was no secret smile though, just utter indifference.

"Mr. Levitz is in your office waiting for you." She said, as she continued her game.

Mr. Levitz was her direct superior. She supervised this division of the branch, he supervised the branch.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered.

"My job. I thought that would be obvious?" Joanna asked, looking utterly unperturbed by Juan's incensed reaction.

Juan just stood there for a moment longer, baffled and terrified. This woman really was stalking her. There could be no other explanation.

"Where's Isabel?" She asked.

"She's out getting me a coffee. I thought since she's my little minion I should establish which one of us was in charge right away." Joanna said, again without looking up from her phone.

"Get out of here now before I call security." Juan insisted.

Joanna just smirked, a knowing smirk. She believed she had the upper hand. Why? How did she even get into this building without a key card?

Juan made to grab the phone on the wall, but just then the door opened and Mr. Levitz poked his head out. He was a middle-aged man who hadn't bothered trying to keep fit. An avuncular man who liked his food and didn't pretend not to. Still, his eyes twinkled with the sharpness of a man who'd once been cutthroat.

"Ah! Miss Hannola, so lovely for you to finally join me. I see you've met my new assistant, Joanna."

The smugness radiating from Joanna somehow deepened.