Tall Sophie Ch. 05

Brad began to shift his weight between his feet and leaned forward in a menacing pose, as if readying to rush Tom and tear him apart.

"Darlin', time to see what a real man looks like up close," he said to Lauren. "And time for your daddy to see what the pavement looks like up close when I smash those pretty teeth out all over the asphalt."

He made a lunge toward Tom but was surprised to find his movement arrested. Sophie had grabbed him from behind in a full nelson hold, shoving his head down into his neck with her clasped hands.

"What the fuck!" he grunted through a constricted airway, struggling to break free but barely moving.

"Lauren, honey," Sophie said plainly, as if she were signaling her to pass the salt. "Can you run to the bus and tell them I need a couple minutes to finish something inside?"

"But Soph...!" Lauren started to argue.

"It'll be okay," Sophie consoled, then winked. "Trust me, I've got this. And don't tell anyone what's going on here. I won't be long."

Lauren looked to her dad who nodded emphatically. He wanted her as far away from the would-be rapist as possible. Lauren quickly ran around the corner.

"Come over here and give him what he deserves," Sophie ordered Tom.

Tom froze.

"Come on, you can do it," she prodded. "Sock him in the gut as hard as you can."

Tom slowly stepped forward until he stood in front of the struggling man. He looked up at Sophie who nodded and pursed her lips. Tom wound up and hit him in the belly. He yelped as his hand immediately exploded with pain. The man began laughing between rough gasps for air from the chokehold.

"Pussy!" he managed to snort out.

Before he knew what hit him, Sophie released and spun him around, slugging him in the belly with incredible force.

"Ugggghhh," he cried as he doubled over, the wind knocked out of him.

With a fluid motion she grabbed the back of his head with both hands and slammed her knee into his face with a loud thud accompanied by a crunching noise. He fell to the ground and blood spurted out of his nose onto the cement. He lay still for a moment.

Tom's eyes flashed to Sophie. She was wearing her volleyball shorts and a grey Le Coq Sportif pullover sweatshirt with a large rooster symbol on the front. The hood was still up. She was light on her feet, in a martial arts posture. Her body exuded pent-up energy, like a coiled spring ready to release. Her eyes watched her adversary intently.

"You broke my fuckin' nose, bitch!"

He leapt from the pavement and rushed toward her, bent over, leading with a shoulder. She quickly side-stepped him and threw out a leg that sent him sprawling on the pavement behind her.

He jumped to his feet and immediately rushed again, this time standing up straight. Tom was awestruck as Sophie's body spun and her long leg snapped up decisively toward his face. Her foot met his mouth squarely and his head stopped in place as his body flew forward under him. His back hit the ground with a thud.

Sophie began to circle him lithely, like a wolf assessing a downed animal for signs of life. He lifted his head and spit a tooth onto the pavement. Then he surprisingly jumped to his feet and made another run. This time she deftly turned and wrapped him in a two-armed headlock. His head was pinned under her left arm with his face mashed against her breast. His arms flailed and his feet tried to find footing to struggle free. She squeezed tighter and spun slightly so he lost his balance. He grabbed onto her arms and clawed, trying to loosen her grip. He was struggling to breathe.

Sophie suddenly stared at Tom with a tranquil look. His brain was having trouble processing the quick turn of events. He was petrified from the fear of what almost happened - and the astonishment of what was happening now in front of him. Sophie's eyes trailed down to look at the man's head under her arm and then back up to Tom. He realized she was asking him how to proceed, giving him the option of ultimate vengeance. Her serene coldness was frightening. Tom managed to shake his head no, slightly. Her eyes glinted with recognition.

"I'm going to let you go," she said deliberately to the man, "and you're going to apologize to my friend here for threatening him and his daughter."

Her grip relaxed and she quickly released him with a shove to the side.

"Fuck you cunt!" he croaked out after sucking in a breath. "And fuck your candy ass little bitch boy over there too."

In a surreal moment, Tom watched as Brad pulled something from his pants pocket, then made a quick motion with his hand. A butterfly knife flipped open and he lunged toward Sophie. With lightning speed, she swatted at his wrist and kicked him hard in the balls in rapid succession. He groaned as the knife skittered across the cement. She pulled his arm toward her and threw a knee to his rib cage, inducing an agonized wheeze. Then she twisted his arm awkwardly to the side and he let out a blood-curdling scream as a bone broke, or perhaps a joint dislocated.

Tom caught a glimpse of Sophie's face in the streetlight and he saw pure animal rage. The image of her expression burned in his brain. Brad hovered next to her, bent at the waist cradling his injured arm. With cold precision she took hold of his collar with one hand and the belt of his pants with the other. Then with unfathomable force, heaved his body forward and slammed his head into the door of his car. Tom remembered the sensation of standing on a platform in Kyoto and watching a bullet train pass by at full speed in less than a second, raw power distilled to its essence. It was the only frame of reference he had that compared. The door panel dented in at least 3 inches and Brad crumpled to the ground, out cold.

Sophie stood over him for a moment and nudged him with a foot. His body rolled limply to the side. Then Tom saw Sophie's shoulders relax momentarily, followed by a quiver. It looked like every muscle in her body suddenly flexed at the same time and her frame seemed to grow and swell for a second before returning to normal. Then she took a deep breath and rolled her neck around in a circle, eyes closed.

When her head came back vertical, her eyelids suddenly shot open and she gathered Tom in her gaze. He stood in shock, locked to her stare. The rapid unfolding of events had overloaded his mind, pushing his conscious deep inside himself. He could only see through a tunnel; everything was blurry except for Sophie.

She took a step toward him, then another, one foot in front of the other. Purposeful, confident strides, like a runway model but with the fiery might of a warrior. Her graceful curves and toned muscles were no longer just an object of beauty and athleticism. She was a lethal machine. He was suddenly terrified of her. Every chance he ever took with her, every mistake he ever made happened under a guise of innocence; a blessed lack of awareness that if he had unwittingly crossed a line, she could have hurt him badly or even killed him before he realized it. It was as if he lived by her grace.

On her next step, she pulled the sweatshirt up and over her head, dropping it to the ground in stride. All that remained were spandex volleyball shorts and a sports bra, both black. The sodium glow of a floodlight mounted on the building cast her chiseled body in a dark silhouette. Steam rose from her bare shoulders as if she were on fire.

He stood catatonic as she stopped within 2 feet of him, her giant presence blocking the light behind her. All he could see was Her. He stared forward at her massive breasts, barely flattened by the constrictive clothing. The fabric was wet from perspiration and vapors rose from the surface. His chest tightened with dread and his breathing became short. She was a different person than he thought he knew; transformed into something savage, fierce, horrifying.

She bent at the waist and leaned down slowly. Her beautiful smile came into view, entirely incompatible with the recent images of brutality on replay in his brain. She laid a hand gently on his shoulder. Then her face shifted to the side and toward his.

She planted a soft kiss on his wounded temple.

"Thank you for sticking up for me," she said, without a hint of irony.

Without warning, he felt two fingers brushing quickly in succession on the underside of his erect cock through the thin weave of his trousers. He didn't even know he was hard. He almost erupted spontaneously, then he felt light-headed and began to faint. The intensity of the moment and the sudden sensation were more than he could bear.

As his body went limp, her hands reached under his arms and caught him. She drew him to her. A hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed it to the center of her chest, between her breasts. As he regained his senses, he felt his nose pressing into the moist spandex. He could sense the supple flesh of her breasts compacting slightly on each of his cheekbones. Her familiar scent was the most intense he had ever smelled, a concentrated odor of extreme stress and aggression.

Yet the strong aroma soothed him. Every modicum of fear swiftly melted into an overwhelming sense of security. He felt safe for the first time since the threat appeared. Absolutely safe, protected, sheltered. He raised his rubbery arms from his sides and wrapped them around her, clasping his hands together and resting his forearms on the swell of her muscular ass. He squeezed as hard as he could, pulling himself into Her, his protector and savior. She tightened her embrace, both hands around the back of his head. Her upper arms pressed in toward her chest and her giant mounds molded to the sides of his head, covering his ears. The sounds of the night disappeared as he was engulfed in the safety of her warm breasts. Her hand stroked his hair tenderly, almost motherly.

He was suddenly flooded with a cacophony of emotions: gratitude for protecting him, indebtedness for saving Lauren, adulation for her prowess in combat, peace in the sanctuary of her bosom, dependency, inferiority, love. He loved her with every ounce of his body. There was no other way to describe the all-consuming sensation. He needed her like he had never needed another person. He breathed her in. Tears streamed from his eyes.

Her embrace loosened and her body pulled back. He was struck with sadness as she extracted him from the sacred refuge of her cleavage. A hand remained on the back of his head. She bent at the waist and tipped his head up. Slowly her face came down, then it shifted to one side and he felt her tongue on his cheek. She was licking his tears. She switched sides and he felt a long, slick lap up the side of his face. He noticed a cold breeze for the first time as her saliva evaporated from his skin.

Then she brought her face in front of his. Their foreheads came into contact, noses touched. He could feel her measured, powerful breaths on his mouth. She looked deep in his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a jolt as her middle and index fingers trailed the bottom of his cock, slowly walking the length, alternating friction on each side. It seemed like each individual nerve ending was grazed in succession, like a long glissando across the keys of a piano. With each light stroke, her fingertips pulled his semen further up from his testicles. He felt it bubbling, ready to burst.

"May I cum for you, Miss?" he murmured with reverence.

His request was different than she had instructed, but he was certain he asked correctly, more appropriately. The words came straight from his heart. A base act of sexual pleasure had become a deed of worship. He presented himself to his Goddess, his seed a solemn offering she could choose to take or reject.

Without warning, her hand violently gripped the back of his head and compressed his forehead and nose hard into hers. He had to open his mouth to breathe. She straightened her body slowly and his feet lightened. He rose steadily until his toes trailed across the pavement toward her. She held his weight in her hand. The movement of her fingers on his cock slowed to a standstill, frozen in place. Her powerful breath filled his mouth and he had trouble exhaling. He was forced to match her respiration, inhaling her breaths and exhaling into her mouth. The slow rhythm soothed him after the brief distress of her forceful tug. He could taste her on his tongue.

"Have you been a good boy today?" she implored in a whisper with the wind of her breath.

With all that had just transpired, he couldn't believe that her game of controlling ejaculations continued. Yet she was deadly serious. He was permitted only one release today and she had to confirm that he had not failed her. His stomach fluttered. He could sense her eyes probing his, looking deep inside him for an answer. He thought of his moment of weakness in the men's room. Was the precum ejaculation? Or had he stopped short, involuntarily from the absence of her permission? He resolved that he had complied with her directive.

He waited for the next exhale to answer but her eyes signaled recognition of his truth. He knew for certain at that moment that he could never lie to her.

"Good boy," she whispered, then added as her breath ended, "Give yourself to me."

Her fingers only had to stroke once. He sucked in her breath and began to orgasm. Unexpectedly, the hand on his head pulled him to the side and into her bare armpit. He was swamped in her raw essence. His crotch slid onto her thigh and he began to hump her leg as the sperm poured out. Reflexively he rubbed his mouth and cheeks all over her crevice, drenching himself in her pungent sweat. He began to lick the salty liquid, feeling the sandpaper consistency of her light stubble on his tongue. It tasted savory, he was hungry for her, ravenous. He wrapped his hands over her shoulder and pulled himself in tighter, puckering his lips and sucking at her skin. It seemed like more fluid emitted, like water from a compressed sponge. He felt like he was excreting his weakness on her leg while drinking in her strength from under her arm. In the haze of his orgasm, he felt fortified by her power.

As his last seed dribbled out, he became aware that he had climbed her body. His legs were bent with his knees squeezing around her upper thigh, his hands gripping the top of her shoulder. Her frame had remained steady and square to the ground, unfazed by his weight and gyrations.

He felt his body weaken with the postcoital crash, yet he remained in place on her, breathing in her body odor. Then Sophie relaxed her grip on the back of his head. He quickly crumpled to the ground, grabbing at her leg to keep from falling entirely. He knelt before her powerful form. The hand returned to the back of his head. It lightly stroked his hair. Her other hand approached his face, balled into a fist. Instinctively he kissed the knuckles that had knocked the wind out of his assailant. He experienced a sudden falling sensation as he symbolically surrendered to her, as if pledging his fealty, submitting to her protection. Or wrath. He cowered before her, uncertain what she would do next but accepting of anything.

Then she gently pulled his face toward her sex. Her knees bent and she dropped her crotch below his chin. She rose slowly and rubbed the length of his head through the fold of her groin. He caught a whiff of magic as his nose slid by. Then she shifted his head and rubbed down his face with the other side. Her spice was even stronger.

She abruptly shifted him to the center. His mouth and chin touched the sodden fabric covering her hole. He took a breath that he would remember for his entire life. It charged him like a drug, he became high on her. Intoxicated.

He readied to attach his mouth to her treasure, nervous, wanting to please her, hoping he could. But she moved first. Both of her hands roughly grabbed the back of his head and she ground her clit into his nose. The pressure hurt immediately. Her hips shoved harder as her hands pulled, crushing his face desperately into her, as if she were trying to consume him through her vagina. He felt a seething pain, but he hung limply, sacrificing himself willingly as he could feel each thrust bringing her more pleasure.

With a final burst of force, her hands compacted his skull into her pelvis and her body went rigid. He felt his cranium bending under the enormous pressure and he vaguely worried it would pop as his head grew light. His whole world vibrated.

"Ahhhhh," she gasped breathily, as if she were slipping into a hot bath.

Her grip relaxed and she stood still for a moment. He could feel her heartbeat pulsing on his wet face. She breathed deeply. The pain subsided and his chest swelled with pride at her orgasm. He was no more than a dildo to her, but a functional one. An eager one.

Then she stepped back and bent down to look in his eyes, her palms on either side of his face. He was consumed by warmth. She planted a soft kiss on his forehead. A tingle ran up his spine. She released him and stood.

"I told you I would blow your mind," she said with a mischievous smile. "I have to get on my bus now. And you have just enough time to get to your Peloton class. Plus, you'll want to be out of here before he wakes up."

Her eyes shifted to the side and he followed them to the man on the ground. He was beginning to stir. Tom had completely forgotten he was there, lost under Sophie's spell. The whole episode had probably lasted five minutes but it felt like hours.

Sophie turned and walked to the back of the muscle car, slid on the varsity jacket and took her bag. He watched her colossal form stride toward the corner of the building before he came to his senses.

He looked at the ground in front of him and realized she had left her sweatshirt. He picked it up to call after her, but she was already gone. Brad stirred again and Tom's flight reflex hit overdrive. He quickly jumped in his Tesla, reversed and floored the pedal. The instant acceleration surprised him as he gunned past the Charger and flew through the parking lot past the school bus. He drove like a mad man until he pulled onto the freeway, where he engaged Autopilot and sunk into his seat as the adrenaline rush abated.

Everything about today was unbelievable and out of character with the man he knew only months ago; skipping a meeting with his boss, getting into a fight with a stranger, watching the beautiful object of his obsessions beat the living shit out of a man; cumming in her hand and on her leg, her pussy grinding to orgasm on his face. She had indeed blown his mind.

He breathed in and smelled her everywhere. Her pungent aroma was on his mouth, his clothes, the sweatshirt in his lap. It was all Her, but the strongest it had ever been, the intense balm of her supreme vitality. His cock began to reawaken as he bathed in the fragrance. He couldn't escape it.

He was suddenly struck by a profound revelation: The alpha wolf had defeated her challenger and marked her territory.

Him.