Session Wrestler to Slave Ch. 09

Ray closed the door to the hotel room after pulling himself away from Jamie's diligent foot worshiping and, despite knowing Jamie was going to be on the floor in shock for a few more minutes, he walked to the side door as briskly as he could without breaking into a run. During that walk he got out his phone, unlocked it with his password, and dialed Shannon as fast as his fingers could operate.

He noticed his hands were shaking a bit from everything racing through his mind: he had broken the amazon in one session (he still couldn't believe it), she voluntarily played the foot slave for two hours, he ignored Shannon (which he knew NEVER to do) and she had given him a red line. Shannon had only given him a red line once, and that was when he dropped his phone and didn't realized it was broken until it was too late.

This was different, he told himself, as he brought the phone to his ear and heard it ringing. This is absolutely different: the pro has to outweigh the con here. Right? She would see, his penance for ignoring her while breaking Jamie down would be worth it. Jamie might be the perfect prize, that had to be worth any punishment she may levee. He hoped to God it would be.

He also remembered one disturbing thing: he didn't have her yet. He thought he did, but that could change after she slept on the events of the session for a few nights. Human beings are so unpredictable, despite being so insanely predictable at the same time, and denial was a very powerful coping mechanism. She could be starting to deny what happened and her breakthrough later tonight. He just could not say.

Shannon answered.

"Yes?"

"I can explain, you won't believe what happened if I told you, but I can prove it."

He cut himself off, shutting of the words that wanted to come out, and waited for her to respond.

"Really. What the fuck have you been doing since your session with that bitch ended?" she asked. Shannon was always so profane, but he honestly loved the sass that flowed from her sexy lips so often.

"I just walked out of the hotel, I'm not even in my car, I dialed the phone as soon as I hit the side door."

"Bull fucking shit." she said sarcastically. "Its 9:13 and your session started at 6. You had a three hour wrestling session? Not even you are in good enough shape to do that shit for three hours."

"No, I took care of her in 50 minutes or so, I didn't even need the hour." he said, calming down more and more as he spoke, thinking he was going to convince her that he had done well and it was worth ignoring her.

"What?" she replied, unconvinced, as Ray got to his car, sat in the driver's seat and pulled away. He didn't want Jamie to see him again and risk tarnishing her memory of the session by seeing him as a normal guy in a parking lot or driving away in a Ford.

"Honest, it was over in 50 minutes and my job was done. You were right about her, every word you said."

"Bull fucking shit!" she repeated with a bit more sarcasm. "There is no way she was that fucking predictable, I've never even met her and you're telling me I had her profiled perfectly?" she said bluntly, that same bluntness and uncensored tone she used so often with everyone close to her.

"It's true. I will tell you everything, a full pitch by pitch." he said, as calm and honest as he could.

"If you're blowing smoke up my ass, you're going to fucking pay for it!" she said, her voice elevating only slightly. "You already ignored me twice and got your second red fucking line, is this really the story you want to tell? I'm going to know if you're full of shit! You know that, right?" she continued, calmly yet assertively.

"Yes." He said as directly as he could, he then paused for effect. "And it. Is. True." He paused between each word for more of an effect.

"I know full well what all those words mean right now, and you know that I do."

Silence. Nerves came back, and hint of fear.

"Done. This better be good or you are in deep fucking shit! I'm talking the chastity type of shit!"

"I've got this. And you know that I do. Don't you. I love you." he said, signing off. His confidence grew during the exchange, and the words "Don't you" were a statement, not a question.

"I love you more." she replied sweetly, and she hung up.

Ray felt much better after that exchange and realized once again how much he really did love this woman. She was perfect for him: driven to achieve and better herself like no one he had ever met. She was also brilliant, tremendously gifted at what she did for a living, physically fit, and beautiful. My god did he still find her beautiful, almost more beautiful now at 29 that when he met her when they were both 20.

Her career made her that much sexier for Ray: she had gotten her PhD in criminal psychology focusing on personality and behavioral profiling at the same time he had gotten his in psychology focusing on counselling and couple's therapy. He wanted to be a therapist and help people identify and work through their problems, while she wanted to understand people from the inside and know why they had their problems and what they may do.

She was the top of her class and graduated Magma Cum Loude, and by the time she was done with school she was headhunted by major companies and law enforcement agencies alike. She was now an expert at profiling behavior in just about anyone, not just criminals. She could look at a person's past experiences and anything else about them, such as what they put on social media, how they dressed in photos, what they drove, where they lived, or what did for work, and know what made them tick inside. It wasn't an exact science, some people are naturally unpredictable, but she was very, very good at it.

She also had a natural ability to read people. This wasn't learned through study, it was a gift, and none of her friends ever wanted to play cards with her, especially for money. That had been financial suicide her entire life as she nearly always won. However, she sharpened that gift to a deadly point during her study of behavior.

She was recruited by the FBI, CIA, and big city police departments to profile criminals as well as companies large and small to help with advertising and how to target certain sectors of the population. She had so many options and was in such demand that she decided to stay independent. She put her name out to the authorities and the companies and told them she wanted to pursue projects as she saw fit and not be dictated to by a supervisor, she wanted to be her own boss. Upon hearing that, she got work on contracts and was able to choose her projects and make excellent money doing so.

Her skills also made her incredibly attractive to him. She was as strong willed a woman as he had ever known. She could not be lied too, fooled, mislead, or pushed around. Any lie or deception was sniffed out with ease, but sometimes he could sneak an innocent lie past her without her knowing. Any real lie had no chance. He tried constantly to sneak innocent lies past her, and getting away with it became a game they both wanted to win.

She wasn't perfect, however, and he loved her flaws too. Despite being brilliant and amazing at her incredibly difficult job, she had zero sense of direction (she had been lost in more than one mall when malls were still popular) and could not balance a checkbook or account for money. Ray wondered if she could do anything past simple math or how she made it through math classes in high school or college.

"Fuck math!" was her normal response. She also hated driving. More to the point, hated driving because "other people are so fucking stupid." She also had no taste buds Ray had ever noticed.

Seriously, her taste in food was the worst: everything past light salt or pepper was "too fucking spicy" and every meal he or she cooked had to be bland enough to make a chef cry. He actually kept a couple dozen spices in the house, but he could never put them in cooked food, only add them to his own plate.

What's more, she was also NOT a lady. She was profane. She loved to use the F word. Fuck was her favorite word: her favorite noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and it might be what she like to do best. While she used the F word all the time, never once did it have any real venom behind it when she used it on him or around him. It was just a word she liked. If she ever got on his case without using the F word that meant she was probably pissed off, he had learned that during their time together.

She wasn't shy about her sex life. She wasn't shy to talk about wanting to fuck either. The phrase "I'm a woman, I like to fuck, and I'm not fucking hiding from that" had left her mouth more than once over the years.

She also loved to fight, physically fight, and challenge herself with wrestling and boxing. She loved to wrestle the most because, to quote her: "tapping is a slow process. It ain't like punching a cocksucker in the face and dropping him like the sack of shit he might be, that happens in an instant. Taps and pins are slow, emotionally taxing when I start talking shit, and personal."

He remembered how she talked about "loving to climb all over a motherfucker, put them in their fucking place, and climb right into their head while I'm doing it." She could do it too.

She always kept herself in such good physical condition, even after finishing her volleyball career. She had taken a class called "Self defense, fighting and wrestling techniques" where she learned a ton. She also worked extra with the teachers, both grad assistants, one having spent 4 years on the wrestling team and the other an amateur MMA fighter through college. They worked with her in the evening, "probably hoping to cop a fucking feel or fucking hook up with me." she had once said. Just like everything else she had a passion for, she threw herself into it until she was incredibly hard to stop.

She also ruled both their lives with an iron fist. It was heaven, she was perfect in his eyes. However, it didn't start out that way...

Ray was from a small town in the Midwest, and sadly for a small town kid in the Midwest it was tough to be short, skinny, first academically in your class by a long shot and not a star athlete. He had it rough from 7th grade through his junior year in high school. The jocks and "cool kids" used to pick on him, verbally and physically, and he hated PE class when it seemed to be open season on him. Despite being small, he was also uncoordinated, which didn't help matters. The abuse stopped abruptly one day in PE: one of his bullies had basically thrown him to the ground while playing basketball. Ray already hated basketball, and his reaction surprised even himself.

He got up, and just like usual he wasn't really going to do anything because this guy was so much bigger. He wasn't that much taller, maybe 5'10" or 5'11" when compared to his 5'5", but he was an athlete and heavily muscled from working out and playing sports. The gym teacher had yelled at him for the stunt he pulled in knocking Ray to the deck, saying "I better not see that again!". It was a typical teacher threat, mostly meaningless as bullies were usually smart enough to do things when teachers weren't looking.

Upon hearing that the bully, his name was Travis, said "No problem Mr. Wheeler, me and Ray are cool!"

It wasn't just the words, although they hurt, it was the smug smile and look of invulnerability. Almost as if the look had said 'Mr. Wheeler won't stop anything, and you won't stop me either.'

Ray then learned what the phrase "seeing red" really meant. He lost it. He totally lost control. When he did the periphery of his vision literally turned red.

He got up, stepped forward, and punched Travis in the face as hard as he possible could.

He didn't remember, specifically, everything that happened next, he remembered climbing on Travis as they both hit the ground and trying to pound him over and over as Travis's arms blocked most of the punches. He remembered Travis's face being covered in blood. Then he remembered a vice like grip on both his biceps (rendering his arms useless) picking him up and spinning him around and carrying him away.

He remembered looking back at Travis trying to pick himself up off the ground, blood flowing from a nose Ray later learned was broken. Travis's friends, not more bullies, but those who supported or looked the other way when Travis bullied Ray, were staring back and forth between Ray, Mr. Wheeler, and Travis on the ground, shakily trying to stand up.

Ray was taken directly to the principal, and the principal heard Ray's account and the account of the three or four students closest to the incident. The principal told him flatly it would be two week suspension "for a blatantly violent stunt like that. Any more behavior remotely close to that and you will be expelled!" she had said in a very scolding yet businesslike manner. "I'll not have that type of violence in my school system." she went on.

"That's a bunch of bull crap, those guys beat on me all the time." Ray head himself say.

The principal's face went hard with anger. "We don't tolerate bullies here Ray, in this school we....."

"Shelly?" Mr. Wheeler interrupted. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Edmonds" as he addressed the principal, his boss, more formally, yet confidently.

She was still angry and looked very strongly at Mr. Wheeler.

"May we speak privately please, I have something I'd like to say."

"Ray," she said sternly, "go sit in the chair in the waiting area. Do. Not. Move."

The door closed, and Ray waited about 10 minutes.

"Ray, come here please." she called from her office as Mr. Wheeler opened the door. Ray came back.

"Three days suspended. You have Mr. Wheeler to thank for his candid explanation of what happened. However, do not look at this as leniency, I meant what I said about violence, bullying, and you being expelled if we have to meet like this again. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, you are both excused"

Mr. Wheeler told him privately, later on, that he knew about the bullying, tried his best to watch for it, and was proud of Ray for sticking up for himself.

"But, and listen to me when I say this," he said in a direct, yet friendly and matter-of- fact tone while staring Ray directly in the eyes ",if you ever punch a guy like that again be careful where you do it. Make sure he or his buddies don't mop the floor with your face afterwards. If you punched him like that on the street or in a park, no one would have been there to help you."

Ray wasn't touched again by a bully, but there were verbal shots fired his way every once in a while. He learned two things that day in PE: there was a place for true violence, despite teachers and other adults telling him the opposite his entire life, and he found the feeling of power over another person was an incredibly powerful emotion. He had physically dominated another boy, a larger boy, his peer, and it has been immensely satisfying. The memory of Travis on the ground then shakily trying to stand after Ray's punch would stick with him forever. He didn't like hurting people, he didn't want to punch Travis or break his nose, but the power he felt at the time would resonate with him long after.

He was accepted with a full academic scholarship to his state's flagship university and opted to study psychology, he found the human mind fascinating and the idea of learning why people do the things they do incredibly interested and complex.

'Like denial,' Ray thought, 'how people can know something is bad for them yet keep doing it over and over, sometimes for years? How can people justify truly abusive relationship or make such terrible health decisions and, despite knowing better, be OK with it?'

His state school had a nationally renowned psychology program, and had alumni who were prominent criminal profilers, therapists, marriage counselors, and psychology professors. He was intrigued by the quality and selection of psychology classes and took all of them that he could fit in around his core educational requirements.

This is when he noticed Shannon. She had been in several of his classes his freshman year and he assumed she was the same age and education level as he was. He had never spoken to her, but they became familiar with each other from simply overlapping for so many courses. He had never built up the nerve to talk with her.

How could he? She was beautiful! She was an athlete, volleyball, based on her constant wardrobe of university volleyball hoodies, sweatpants, t shirts, and hats. He wondered how many articles of clothing were in her house with the school's logo plastered on the chest, back, leg, or butt.

She also had such a perfect body. Blonde with blue eyes, athletic build, thick legs and ass and what looked to be perfect B or C cup tits. She was also his height, confirmed by the school's volleyball website at 5'5. Such a beauty, he was thankful to get to see her three or four times per week in classes.

He had no idea what would happen next....