Paige-ing Rachel Ch. 01: After the Game

WARNING: THIS STORY FEATURES GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NON-CONSENSUAL ANAL SEX BETWEEN TWO WOMEN

(All characters are over the age of 18)

Hello my lovelies! I've had some version of this fantasy kicking around in my head for quite some time and with my partner out of town for the whole week, I felt compelled to sit down and finally write it out my way. After about 5 straight days of pounding this out (heh), I'm excited to present it here.

Readers of my previous works will notice that I'm trying a new format, third person, and that this is a much darker story than my past fare. I'd be grateful for any feedback or reactions to the new style and tone as I try to branch out from my comfort zone, writing-wise.

With the initial encounter being so dubiously consensual in nature (despite the growing connection and more consensual elements of the dynamic growing between them as the story progresses) I decided to categorize this is Non-Consent/Reluctance instead of Lesbian Sex. So yeah, you've been warned, there's a rough lesbian anal strap on scene where the receiving girl has not consented to it when it goes in.

This version of this fantasy is loosely based on a roleplay I did with a partner that started off spectacularly and then fizzled as they often do. If they ever find this story and recognize it, I'd love to hear from them again.

This is an admittedly very verbose standalone tale that I hope will become part of a long-form series eventually, but it's self-contained on its own as well.

Please enjoy and keep all the feedback and comments coming!

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"ISO! ISO!" shouted Rachel Silverstein, senior captain of the Northridge High Red Lions, as she dribbled the ball from midfield. Her teammates spread across the soccer pitch, drawing the opposing team's defenders away as she charged towards the enemy goal.

Rachel was a true force of nature on the field, her piercing green eyes blazing with sheer determination. The subtle sheen of sweat on her tanned skin glistened in the sunlight, accentuating the toned muscles that bulged and flexed beneath her uniform as she drove the ball forward. Her long chestnut hair, normally cascading in soft waves, was now slick with sweat and pulled tightly back into a ponytail, with a few stray tendrils whipping around her face as she moved.

Her team uniform, a classic combination of dark red and white, hugged her athletically curvy form like a second skin. The white stripes on the sides of her shorts emphasized the curve of her hips, which swiveled rhythmically with each step she took. Every twist and turn made the fabric ripple across her muscular thighs and calves, reflecting the agile strength that lay just beneath the surface.

Taking a deep breath, she launched the ball toward the goal with all her might. The opposing team's goalie leaped to intercept it, but Rachel had struck it too well; it soared past the outstretched arms and into the net.

"YES!" Rachel cheered, pumping her fist in victory as her teammates ran onto the field to congratulate her. In that moment, she felt completely invincible -- like nothing could bring her down.

As the adrenaline subsided, however, Rachel noticed a sharp pain in her ankle. She winced, trying not to let it show on her face as she limped away from her celebrating teammates.

"Hey, you okay?" asked Jenna, one of Rachel's closest friends on the team.

"Yeah, just twisted my ankle a bit," Rachel reassured her, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine."

"Alright, if you say so," Jenna replied hesitantly, patting Rachel on the back before rejoining the others.

The game clock ran out soon after. The Red Lions had won, with Rachel's late-minute goal breaking the long-standing tie. The victory had felt pyrrhic to Rachel though, as she limped off the field.

Her thoughts swirled as she struggled to walk on her injured ankle. There were five games left in the season and she needed to show up for each one to secure the soccer scholarship for college next year.

She reached the bag with her gear and personal effects and sat down next to it, rubbing her sore ankle tenderly. Always an active control freak caring about how people saw her, she'd never been one to let herself be seen in pain. She always had to be the stoic, strong one in control on the team and in her social life so it made sense that none of her teammates had taken note of her wincing and limping. They were all headed to the team bus idling in the parking lot or their own cars if they'd driven so they could go directly home.

"Hey, I think I need an ace bandage! I'm gonna go look for one, can you hold the bus!" Rachel called to her teammate from across the pitch. The teammate waved back at her, which Rachel took as a confirmation that the bus would be held.

It was not, the teammate hadn't been able to hear Rachel from across the field and had only waved out of acknowledgment that Rachel had said something, not that she'd hold the bus.

Thinking the bus would wait for her, Rachel climbed to her feet and made for the sports center of rival school, Glenwood High. She limped gingerly to the big green and gold doors and let herself inside, thinking it would be a quick trip in and out, but that was not to be.

The opposing home team's members had apparently already showered and gone home by the time Rachel worked her way down the three flights of stairs on her sore ankle.

Steam from the showers still lingered, filling the abandoned locker room with an eerie mist. Rachel found herself alone in a place that felt foreign and alien, covered in the hateful green and gold of her bitter rivals.

Not knowing where the medical supplies would be kept, Rachel limped her way through the darkened locker room towards a lighted area on the far end. The massage table at the center of it and the varying rubbing and stretching devices told her she'd found this school's training and conditioning center, where an ace bandage or a brace would surely be found.

She started digging through the drawers around the table but didn't find what she was looking for. She was also unaware that her team's bus had pulled away and the school was largely empty by now, save for one older woman who was watching her from a darkened doorway on the near side of the room.

Paige Williams, the tall and striking woman with piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair, watched the young girl from her shadowy corner. Her lips curled into a smirk as she observed Rachel's struggle to find what she needed. Paige, had of course, been at the game that had just ended, rooting for her hometown Falcons. She'd been furious when that pesky number 14 had broken the tie with that impressive play.

As an alum and longtime legacy representative member of Glenwood High's school board, Paige enjoyed the special privilege of a master key to the school. Often this just meant she'd use it to go into the school during off hours to relieve herself or wander about the halls of her old haunt and reminisce. This evening, she'd headed down to the locker room to pee, only to be surprised to hear the sound of someone opening the main doors to the facility.

The last thing she'd expected to see was the very rival player that had been a nuisance to her team alone and limping inside HER team's empty locker room. You couldn't have drawn it up any better, as the coach might say.

The look of frustration on Rachel's face was simply too delicious to ignore. Maybe she could take this arrogant Red Lion down a few pegs and wind up with a pretty new plaything for herself if she played it right. Paige had deliberately built up quite the arsenal of manipulative skills over the years. They had served her well both professionally and personally, especially when it came to ensnaring trusting young women who wouldn't see her as a threat. As such, Paige knew that this was a golden opportunity being handed to her, one she wouldn't let slip away.

"Looking for something?" Paige spoke as she stepped into the light, her voice low and smooth, cutting through the silence.

Rachel jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. She'd been convinced the whole complex was empty. "Uh, yes," she stammered, her heart pounding. "I--I need an ace bandage. I twisted my ankle."

As Rachel turned to speak, her eyes were immediately drawn to the approaching figure of the tall, curvaceous woman. The woman's jet black hair was short and tousled, framing her angular face in a way that perfectly accentuated her sharp features. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through Rachel with an intense gaze. She was dressed in a tight, black dress that boasted a darker hue, giving off a sophisticated and alluring air. The dress reflected the school's green and gold colors, hinting at her affiliation with the sports team, while also emphasizing her ample curves. A silver necklace rested atop her impressive cleavage, glinting in the dim light and drawing even more attention to her dominating presence. Paige stepped closer to Rachel, the dim lighting highlighted every curve of her voluptuous figure. The black dress clung to her body like a second skin, showcasing a slender waist and shapely hips. Her long, thick legs were made even more prominent by the addition of heeled leather boots as she walked towards the slightly injured girl.

Paige's eyes glittered as they scanned Rachel's form in her sweaty black and red uniform.

"Twisted ankle? That's unfortunate. Let's have a look at it," she said approaching with a confidence that further disarmed the star soccer player.

Paige stepped in closer, brushing past Rachel to sit on the edge of the padded massage table, her legs crossed elegantly. "Come here," she ordered softly, patting the spot next to her. The commanding tone was offset by the softness of her voice, making Rachel hesitate briefly before doing as instructed.

"Sorry uh, who are you?"

"The person who knows where the ace bandages are, and you're the girl with the ankle you shouldn't be putting weight on until it's wrapped." Paige said expectantly. She pointed to the spot next to her again with a tone that said the discussion was over.

As Rachel sat down, Paige swung herself off the table, standing before the girl in close proximity. The heat radiating off Paige sent shivers down Rachel's spine and made her heart race even faster. She could smell Paige's perfume - a mix of jasmine and vanilla that seemed to harmonize perfectly with her dominant aura.

"You should take better care of yourself," Paige murmured, her icy-blue gaze never wavering from Rachel's own. She reached for the girl's injured ankle, touching Rachel for the first time without asking. Her fingers ran along the tender area with an almost professional precision. Rachel winced at the initial contact but then felt the pain ebbing away under Paige's gentle touch.

"Sorry if I hurt you," Paige said, her voice dropping to a near whisper as she continued to probe gently at Rachel's ankle. "But I need to be sure of what I'm dealing with here."

Rachel didn't reply. She couldn't. Her breath was hitched in her throat as she watched the older woman tend to her wound. Broad, strong fingers swept over her skin, leaving a trail of warmth that seemed to seep into her bones.

"Um uh, could you tell me who I'm uh dealing with here?" Rachel finally managed to croak out. As the outspoken captain of the team and a senior, she was not used to being the quiet timid one in a situation, but the way this woman regarded her made her feel small.

With a slight smirk playing on her lips, Paige turned her attention back to the injured ankle. "Paige Williams," she finally said, giving no further context or explanation of why she was qualified to assist with the injured athlete's foot.

Her hands continued their ministrations, tracing the curve of Rachel's instep with a touch that felt far too intimate for a simple ankle examination. Was this woman even a medical professional? She tightened her grip subtly, feeling Rachel's gasp more than hearing it.

"I'm uh, Rachel." Rachel winced out.

"Oh good, I was just gonna call you Number Fourteen." Paige quipped, totally in control of the situation. "Nice to meet you, Rachel Numberfourteen."

With a gulp and hot cheeks, Rachel corrected this strange woman. "Actually, it's uh Silverstein. I'm Rachel Silverstein."

"Ah well. Happy Belated Simchat Torah then, Rachel Silverstein." Paige answered, referencing the autumnal Jewish holiday that had occurred the week before.

"Thanks, um so does that make you..." Rachel started to ask but felt foolish.

"Oh heavens no." Paige responded. "But I'd be lying if I said a pretty JAP wasn't one of my biggest weaknesses."

"A JAP?" Rachel asked, slightly appalled.

"You know, Jewish American Princess. Oh, don't tell me your generation doesn't use that anymore because it's 'derogatory? I swear everything offends you kids today." Paige quipped nonchalantly.

Rachel was taken aback by Paige's disrespectful remark, but instead of retorting, her mouth went dry. She inwardly chided herself, wondering why she was allowing this woman to speak to her in such a way. But there was something intoxicating about Paige's dominance that she had never encountered before. The way Paige glanced at her, with a mysterious smirk playing on her lips and those piercing blue eyes locked onto hers - it sent shivers down her spine and she couldn't explain why.

"Oh," Rachel only managed to breathe out as she watched Paige step away from the table, leaving her alone momentarily. She took the opportunity to compose herself and tried to shake the strange, off feeling about this mysterious lady.

"Think you can handle taking your own cleat and shinguard and sock off, or do I have to do it for you?" Paige called over her shoulder from wherever she'd gone. Rachel grimaced at the condescending tone but said nothing in response. No one talks to her like that, except this woman apparently.

"I got it." Rachel answered. Why did she suddenly feel incapable just because this woman inferred that she was? Her trembling hands struggled to undo the laces of her cleat. She felt the intensity of Paige's gaze on her from across the room, amplifying her discomfort. As she undid the last knot, a wave of pain shot through her ankle, causing her to wince.

Paige returned just as Rachel let out a soft gasp of pain. In Paige's hands was an icepack and an elastic ace bandage. She approached Rachel, a smirk playing on her lips. "Looks like you need a little help after all," Paige said, her tone teasing. She quickly slipped off Rachel's cleat and sock, revealing the swelling ankle she had previously probed. Her touch was softer this time, her fingers deftly maneuvering around the tender skin. She placed the ice pack gently against Rachel's twisted ankle, causing her to gasp at the cold sensation.

"Can't handle a little cold, Number Fourteen?" Paige teased, the corners of her mouth turning up in amusement.

Rachel shook her head slightly in response, trying to regain her composure. "I'm fine," she murmured, but her voice was shaky. She pulled her gaze away from Paige's mesmerizing eyes, focusing instead on the locker room's dingy, graffiti-covered walls.

Paige merely chuckled at Rachel's response. "Of course you are," she said as she skillfully wrapped the bandage around Rachel's ankle. The fabric was tight against her skin but offered a comforting level of support that eased some of the throbbing pain.

Once she had finished wrapping and clipping the bandage so it wouldn't unravel, Paige did not step away. Instead her warm hands began working their way up Rachel's smooth, slightly sweaty leg up.

"W-what are you doing, Paige?" Rachel asked with wide eyes.

"Hush, Fourteen. I'm not done here." Paige stated firmly. Her hands began to move up the girl's calf and then past her knee. She stepped closer to the girl as she worked, causing Rachel to lie back on the table and stick her leg in the air.

"Oh uh, wait I..." Rachel tried to protest as Paige leveraged her leg to pivot her so she was lying fully on the padded table.

"I said hush. Injuries like that can sometimes result in pulled muscles elsewhere that don't become apparent until much later. You want to play again this season don't you?" Paige asked as she massaged and groped at the girl's firm thigh as she stared up at her.

"Uh, yes, but I feel fine there..." Rachel protested.

"Mhmm but until I feel fine there, I'm not letting you up, it would be irresponsible..." Paige said, continuing her intrusive touch.

Rachel's breath hitched in her throat as Paige's hands continued their journey. Paige's motions deliberate, ostensibly searching for any signs of strain but clearly lingering with intention, working higher and higher up the thick muscular leg. Rachel's heart pounded erratically against her ribcage, the heat rising in her cheeks betraying the turmoil of emotions swirling within her. She was acutely aware of the warmth radiating from Paige's body as she loomed close, the scent of her perfume mingling with the sterile air of the locker room. This whole situation felt wrong but Rachel couldn't put her finger on why. This woman had to be a medical professional of some kind the way she was treating her, right?

Paige's gaze held a predatory glint, and Rachel felt like prey under the scrutiny of those incisive blue eyes. "You seem tense," Paige observed, as if Rachel hadn't just played an intense game for 80 minutes that might have some impact on her body's current state. "You aren't stretching enough after games, I can feel it here."

Paige gave a deep squeeze on Rachel's upper thigh that caused the girl to groan and arch her back slightly. There was something about Paige's touch that was different from any medical treatment she'd ever received. It was intimate, invasive, commanding -- yet part of her was reluctant to put an end to it.

"Paige," Rachel managed, her voice a mix of hesitation and curiosity. "I really think I should get back to my team. They'll wonder where I am."

But Paige's hands didn't relent. "They can wait," she murmured, her voice low and steady. "Right now, you need to focus on taking care of this body of yours and if I'm taking the time to check this for you, it would be very rude for you to not let me do the favor for you in full, no?"

It was a statement more than a question, and it held an undertone of command that made Rachel's pulse quicken. Paige's fingers continued to work their magic, kneading deeply into the tense muscles of Rachel's inner thigh. The line between pain and pleasure blurred, and Rachel found herself biting her lip to muffle sounds she didn't quite understand.

She tried to focus on her breathing, tried to remind herself that this was medical and nothing more, but the hungry and intense way Paige was staring down at her made that hard to believe.

"P-Paige what is happening here?" Rachel said from her vulnerable feeling position. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of something like this treatment and she didn't like it.

Paige's eyes glinted, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Rachel, Rachel," she cooed, her voice dripping with an authority that seemed to penetrate the very walls of the locker room. "Sometimes what we need isn't what we expect. You're so used to being in control on the field, directing the ball, leading your team... Have you ever considered letting someone else take the lead?"

Rachel's world tilted on its axis as Paige's question echoed in her ears. The implication was clear and unsettling, yet a part of Rachel felt a spark of something dangerous and alluring at the idea of surrender.

"How can you even say that?" Rachel retorted. "You don't know me."

"Of course, I don't know you--yet," Paige replied with a calculated casualness that did little to mask the sharp edge of her interest. She withdrew her hands ever so slightly, giving Rachel a semblance of space without truly relinquishing her hold. "But I see how you carry yourself, I saw how you played and related to your teammates. I know your type."