Session Wrestler to Slave Ch. 10

He had never spoken a word to her until their junior year when they were selected to work on a group project together. By that time class sizes were considerably smaller, and the lecture halls were a thing of the past as they had both moved to upper level phycology courses. These upper level courses were only for those serious about the field, not for those taking required classes and not caring about anything except getting that passing grade and the credits to graduation. Ray was happier that way, also a smaller class put him closer to Shannon.

The selection had been random by the professor, and it was Shannon, some other guy named Mike, and himself. It was a difficult project that required quite a bit of meetings, research, and interviews of the general public: and it gave Ray a lot of time in her presence. It was so much fun to be paired with her and get to work with her and, he hoped, show off just a bit of what he had going for himself: his 4.0 intellect. He wasn't an athlete or tall or insanely handsome ('I think I'm probably Ok looking.' he told himself) but he was smart and confident he could have a lucrative career, somehow, being that smart.

It blew his mind when she made the first move, asking him to go for a beer when the project was over.

He was blown away, but thought quickly enough to say "Sure, what did you have in mind?" without an awkward pause. Ray had always been quick with his words too, he had thought it came with his smarts.

She mentioned a place he was unfamiliar with, and he didn't recognize the name as one of the hotspots for college students and the super hot athlete types like her. She told him where it was and, to this day, he still regrets saying:

"What did Mike say?" he said innocently.

"Mike?" she replied, with an upward inflection that made it clear it was a question.

"Yeah," There was a short awkward pause, "I bet Mike would want to go, we wouldn't have made our interview numbers without him working the parks."

"We can if you want, I had thought maybe just us. This place is a bit quieter and not full of students." she said.

She was asking him out and he didn't even realize! He remembered feeling like such a dope!! Shannon gave him shit for this exchange to this day.

They went for drinks and it was awesome: he had her undivided attention and she looked tremendous! Her hair was down, he wasn't sure he had ever seen it down from this close before, and the wavy blonde locks flowed to just below her shoulders, she had on light makeup, a perfume that was simply enchanting, with tight designer jeans and a low cut top showing some chest but no boobs.

She wasn't shy about drinking, and she was tipsy by the time they left. They had sat and talked for nearly three hours, taking in some game on TV during pauses in the conversation. He offered to drive her home, but she said she would take the campus shuttle (girls had a free ride anywhere in town from this shuttle to avoid long walks home at night or driving drunk). Before she left, they set another date for later in the week.

The dating went well, but he consistently felt like she was putting up a front of some kind. She was polite, respective of his thoughts, a good listener, and a great conversationist. She was never too opinionated and didn't challenge any of his thoughts too directly although she could be quick to disagree with him, especially when they talked psychology.

There were also her looks and reactions. They were subtle and she hid them well by speaking, smiling, or looking away, but he got the sense she was only saying very little of what was really on her mind. She did this all the time on their dates: maybe she had intimacy or social issues of some kind. He could not put his finger on what he thought it may be, but something was off with her and, since he studied psychology and behavior, he was able to notice when others may not have.

After four or five dates he was starting to realize it wasn't going to work. As beautiful as she was, his feeling about her only grew. He became convinced she was putting up a front and hiding something, but he had no idea what.

To compound his concern, she was a total tease! After a few dates the makeout and groping sessions started when she came to his house (always his house, he didn't even know where she actually lived, she had only given the name of a massive apartment complex) but nothing moved past that. He pushed, like trying to lift her shirt, but she shut him down.

He finally got the shirt off, but the bra stayed on (she insisted) and she shut him down when he went for the pants.

After six or eight dates, her reactions and the looks she made when hiding how she felt or what she had to say were more noticeable and occurred more often. He made up his mind at dinner to end it. It was one of the hardest decisions he had ever made and even harder to do: but he had too.

He wanted a strong woman, specifically a strong willed woman, not a pushover like her. He wanted to be challenged to be better, challenged to do better, pushed by a long term girlfriend to be everything he could be. He wanted someone he could debate, maybe even argue with about things, and not be afraid to tell him when he may be being a douchebag or when he was full of shit. He wanted a partner in life, not someone to agree with his choice of dinner or let him make all the decisions in their future. He wanted someone who was not scared to speak her mind and voice her thoughts. Shannon was just not that girl, and it frustrated him that he just couldn't figure out why

What else was he to do? Something was definitely off with her, and he was having a harder and harder time looking past it, despite her beauty. Also, if he blew his chance to have sex with her, he knew no other girl that hot would ever have sex with him. Ever. This was as close as he had ever gotten with a girl ever remotely as hot as she was, but somehow he was ready to end it.

He broke it off in the parking lot after dinner but before they got to their respective cars. He didn't remember how it went, but he remembered her saying things like "I can explain.", "I haven't had much luck with men at this God damned school.", "want to meet the real me?", and "one more night?".

He was ready to discount anything she said before she said it, so he didn't put much stock into any of it. It did surprise him to hear her curse, even if it was just "God damned school". It was obvious she didn't want it to end, which made his confidence swell in a perverse sort of way: he was ending it with the perfect "10" sweetie and making her upset in the process, that should not make him feel good. But it did. It wasn't like breaking Travis's nose, but it gave him a sense value he had never felt before.

'She really likes me.' he remembered thinking at the time, 'maybe another hot one can like me too.'

But, he stuck to his guns, waved, awkwardly walked to his car and drove away. He looked over at her face as he pulled away (she hadn't moved an inch since he walked away), and although it was from a distance and he was in a moving car, he was pretty certain she was angry. Very, very, angry. He remembered being a bit nervous on his drive home.

He was right. He should have been nervous. He could not have guessed, not in his wildest dreams or fantasies, what was to come next.

He was sitting at home watching TV in sweatpants and a t shirt when she arrived at his house about three hours after the date. She was drunk. She still had her wits about her, which was obvious very quickly, but there with an odd aura with her he had not seen before. She also had a look he hadn't seen before. Honestly, after taking her in for about ten seconds, there was a totally new vibe around her presence in his doorway.

She proceeded to come clean about everything, saying she had been putting up a front and trying to "hide the crazy, and I never fucking do that." She went on for about 15 minutes and told him her story: basically she had terrible luck with men in college and the more of herself she revealed the more they were "fucking scared away". She went on about how most guys she had dated were all "too fucking stupid" (likely because she was absolutely brilliant) or could not handle her being smarter than they were. If not that, they didn't like that she was able to read them like a book, or her profanity, or her refusal to bow to their will and be told what to do or when to do it.

She also told him to "shut the fuck up!" every time he tried to open his mouth. So, he didn't say a word for that entire 15 minutes.

So, after dating a series of guys and them quickly learning they were not for her, she tried to "slow play" things with him. She was equally disappointed when that didn't work, and decided to come clean and see how he likes the real Shannon. He remembered being incredibly turned on through her entire rant, and he said "Yes!" enthusiastically when asked if he wanted a chance to date the real Shannon. Despite answering with a one word answer he thought she would like, he feared being told to "shut the fuck up!" as soon as he tried to answer.

He could not remember all the details of her speech or everything she had said, but he did remember her profanity. Such profanity! It seemed as if the word "fuck" was every 5th or 6th word, with a healthy mix of every other curse word. Skank, cocksucker, shit, and bullshit were some of the more commonly used words. However, it was incredible to him how they were just words to her: there was no malice behind them. No venom. No extra feeling, emotion, or attitude that usually accompanied such language, it just seemed to be the way she talked.

She would ask you "What the fuck..." about anything as politely as a normal person would ask "Do you have the time?". Ray had never met another person who spoke like she did, and to this day still had not.

Ray would never forget how it ended. After he said "Yes" to her offer, the rest of the conversation is burned into his memory forever:

"Good. Would you like a blow job, I want to suck your fucking dick."

"Huh?" he stupidly said.

"I offered a blow job. Do you care to change your fucking answer?"

"Yes, I mean if you want to?"

"If I want to? Fucking seriously? I'm not going to if you aren't fucking into it. I mean fuck, you've had a boner for at least 10 minutes, I noticed you trying to subtly adjust that fucking cock of yours twice already. And trying to hide a fucking boner in sweatpants? Isn't there a fucking phase about sticking out like a boner in sweatpants? What the fuck is it gonna be?"

His mind had raced not just to say yes, but say it the right way. He remembered her saying earlier in her rant that she loved to be dominated when the mood struck. He took a shot:

"Shannon, if you want this to work, kneel down and suck my dick, I'm not moving for you." he said as confidently as he could as he sat on the couch. She had been standing in front of him, looking down at him.

"So, you aren't a fucking pussy, I like that. And yes sir." she said.

She knelt in front of him and grabbed his sweatpants at the hip and pulled them off when he lifted his hips. When she pulled them off his boxers came too, revealing his still massive boner. He had been hard for at least 20 minutes and was glad he had not tried to adjust it more, she had obviously noticed the two times before even though he thought he was being very discreet.

She leaned in a took him in her mouth. Ray almost lost his load right then but mustered every mental power he had to think of something else and last as long as he could.

'Not yet!' he remembered thinking 'For the love of God not yet!'

The feeling overwhelmed him: her tongue doing swirls around his cock, her hair, still down from before, ticking the sensitive area down there and tickling his balls. She stopped, grabbed his dick with her left hand, and started sucking his balls and licking every inch of them. She gave them more attention than any previous girl ever had. She was so good at this! She even flicked her tongue against his taint, and when she did he literally jumped in his seat by pushing himself up with his hands.

He remembered that she stopped when he jumped and back away quickly "You ok up there?" she had asked, still holding his cock in her left hand.

"Yes, fuck yes. Fine, fine, everything's fine, how are you? It's so good. So fucking good. Your so fucking good. Oh my God!"

He remembered the words had poured out of his mouth to try to reassure her to keep going. He actually said, "everything is fine, how are you?" during her first time giving him a blowjob. They shared that inside joke to this day whenever they could.

"More?" she said, as she started tickling his balls with her right hand.

"Fuck yes!"

She went back to work on his dick with her mouth, as she did she wrapped her arms under his thighs and over his leg, and started caressing the spot where his upper thigh met his hip and pelvis with her hands. He had no idea that spot was so sensitive, and he moaned slightly to her touch. Her mouth felt so good on his cock, he could just picture those sexy lips wrapped around his shaft as her tongue continued to pleasure him in what was quickly becoming the greatest blow job he had ever received. He groaned unconsciously with pure pleasure.

Even better, he thought at the time, if this could get better, she seemed to be enjoying it. Her pace quickened and slowed and she responded to every moan and sigh he made. It was obvious after the first minute that she wasn't doing this because she felt obligated to do so, she wanted to be down there slobbering on his cock.

He reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled it together in a half assed pony tail and slowly tried to guide her head up and down his dick. She let him do it, which surprised him a bit, and expertly worked her tongue the whole time. The rest of her hair continued to tickle his groin area. He was ecstasy, and his breath quickened more.

But it was about over, he realized at one point. He tried to focus on something else to hold back what he knew was about to happen. He thought fast, they hadn't talked about how he would finish. He wanted this to happen again, so he decided to give her a heads up and not cum down her throat without warning. 'She may still be mentally unstable....' he remembered thinking while she was expertly and enthusiastically sucking his dick. 'If she can come over here and pour out her soul to me like that after I broke it off with her what else could be going on in her head?' he thought at the time.

"Oh fuck it's about over, I'm gonna cum, it's gonna happen!" he blurted out quickly. She surprised him yet again.

She used her arms to pull herself closer and held herself tight between his legs. She pushed her head down as far as she could and gagged just a bit before backing off. That combination sent him over the edge.

"Gonna cum, gonna cu... Ah, ohhh fuuuuuuckkkk yeaaahhh....." he moaned.

She held tight with his dick in her mouth as he came. After he came and filled her mouth, she didn't gag, didn't jerk her head in disgust, but held her lips in a seal around his dick, pull her mouth off, looked up in his eyes, and made an exaggerated swallowing motion without breaking eye contact, and swallowed every iota of cum he shot into her. Then, she smiled warmly.

"So, are we happy with our decision?" she asked in a questionably seductive tone.

He was panting and breathing heavy after that, but managed to say, "God yes!"

"Good. Now, I'm fucking going to bed." she said as she stood up and glanced down at him.

"Cool, me too. I think I'm spent after that." he said as he got up, putting his boxers back on but not his sweatpants.

"Enjoy the couch, it looks comfy."

"Wait, are you serious? That's my bed."

"I know, and I plan to fucking sleep in it. Alone. You dumped my ass four hours ago, remember? Be lucky your fucking punishment isn't worse." she had said flatly at the time.

"One more thing: you fucking owe me one." she had said before stealing his bed. "Before we officially start this again, we are going to fucking wrestle. I think I can handle you, I want to know if you can handle me!"

"You want to wrestle? Me?" he had asked. He remembered thinking (again) she might be legitimately crazy.

"Yeah, later this week. I'll text you. I'm gonna fucking break you in half. Live in fucking fear, you're about to be my bitch!" she said as she closed the bedroom door, leaving him alone to sleep on his couch while she took his bed.

He remembered sitting on the couch and replaying the events of the night over and over again, thinking about everything she said, what may have been going through her head when she said them, and what came next. It seems they were a couple now, and he honestly wasn't sure if that was good or bad. He went to bed with a smile though, worried just a bit about having to wrestle her.

Ray didn't remember all the details of their first wrestling match later that week, they had wrestled and fought so many times over the years the rounds and falls had begun to blend together. He does remember what she wore, however, and that was another image burned into his memory forever.

He had gone to her place for the wrestling match, it was his first time being there, and he had remembered being more than a bit nervous. Some of the nerves had dissipated when he had watched some college wrestling matches online and realized he could be rolling around on the floor with this beauty and pressed up against her perfect body. They still hadn't had sex, nor had he seen her naked or even gotten her pants or bra off yet.

That probably explained why the image of her from their first match is burned into his memory forever: he was dressed in gym shorts and no shirt after being told to "take that fucking shirt off." She walked out of her room and into the living room of her apartment with a thin robe on, and it was pulled tight over her chest and shoulders to not give anything away. She walked up to him and put her index finger on his forehead and pressed down, implying he should kneel. He did as he was instructed, and remembered that he would have done damn near anything to ensure that robe came off. When he was kneeled down and his head was at her midsection, she untied the cloth belt holding it closed and shrugged it off in one motion. It fell to the floor in a pile at her feet.

She had on bright red spandex shorts that came about a half inch below her pussy and missed covering her belly button by about three inches. It was paired with a sports bra top of the same color that, despite smashing her tits down for safe keeping, showed off quite a bit of cleavage. To top it off, red ribbons were holding her hair in pig tails and she had red fingernail polish and red toenails.

His heart may have honestly missed a beat. She wasn't naked, but he remembered thinking "Oh my fucking God I have to find a way to have sex with this girl." His wish came true later that night after she trounced him on her living room floor.

He was in love! He knew it then: he loved the real Shannon even before the toe curling sex. Even before his toes curled so hard his entire foot locked in a vice like cramp during their first night together, which was a first for him. He thought he had been a part of great sex before: he was wrong. Sex with her was a whole other level.

It was still that way today, years later at age 29. Now he spent his days as a therapist helping troubled couples through difficult times in a relationship and then the divorced adults, mostly men, trying to cope with being divorced and watching their now ex-wives finding some guy to fuck long before they found a new woman. This had its unexpected perks, thanks to Shannon.

She made excellent money in her contract work, more than enough for them both to live on despite not yet being 30. However, some twisted part of her yearned to dominate a man into paying for her, Ray later learned this to be a fairly widespread fetish called findom: financial domination. The vast majority of the time a man gets off paying for a woman to enjoy the finer things in life: dinner, clothing, vacations, whatever he can afford that she accepts. The woman plays the role, to both their benefit, but usually it's a guy thing.