Alicia pulled me into a headlock so tight, I lost my balance. I would’ve fallen over, but she was supporting my weight in full.
“You’re so soft and delicate,” she said, giggling. “I have to be careful not to break you.”
“Okay, I think has probably gone far enough—“
“Let’s take a field trip,” she said, dragging me down the hall. When we got to her room, she threw me onto her leopard-print rug, and pounced on me like a cat, knocking the wind out of me as she did.
“Who’s the bitch, bitch!?”
“I am,” I gasped. “Alicia, I can’t breath.”
“Oh shit,” she laughed, letting up a bit. “Are you okay.”
“Yeah,” I regrouped. “I just…You’re really drunk, Alicia.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she snorted.
“So, yeah, this was fun but, I think I better go, before you make a decision that you won’t like tomorrow—“
Alicia put a hand over my mouth, and leaned down so our noses almost touched. With her other hand, she stroked my hair, suddenly gentle.
“Don’t go, babe,” she said, smiling. “You can’t just get me all worked up and then leave.”
She flipped me over onto my stomach and pulled off my shirt.
“Oh my God, you’re so weak,” she said, delighted. “I had no idea little guys were this fun to play with. I should just stop dating big, strong guys, and switch to little guys, and then I could call all the shots.”
“Alicia, stop!” I said, deciding I needed to be firm. “I don’t want this.”
That wasn’t completely true, but it made her shut up and listen. A girl like Alicia had never been rejected in her life, so when I said it, she scooted off me, and sat back, stunned.
“Listen, Alicia, you’re terrific and gorgeous, and I’m a straight man, so obviously I think you’re attractive, but you’re also my roommate, and we have a good thing going. So sleep it off. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and run four miles and do like 800 lunges, I’ll make you those mango smoothies we like, and we’ll forget all of this, okay?”
Suddenly Alicia had the ashamed look of a girl being scolded for wearing something too short to school.
“Okay, Andy. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said picking up my shirt. “See you tomorrow.”
I got up and headed for the door, not looking back. My hand was on the knob when she pounced again and I went down, face first.
“Actually, no,” she said. “I let guys run my life all the time.” She wrapped her arms around me, and picked me up in a reverse bear hug. “For once, I’m gonna do what I want to do, and right now, you are what I want to do.” She threw me onto her bed, and slipped off her shirt. She was hearing her hot pink push-up bra, the one I had seen so many times when I was moving her laundry to the drier, and tried not to think about too much.
She pinned my arms behind my head, and let me strain to push them up, just so she could push them right back down.
“Oh this is perfect,” she said, “you’re like my adorable little fuck-toy.”
She slipped her hands down my pants and clasped my butt in her hands. I recoiled, but she didn’t loosen up her grip.
“Mine,” she said.
It was hard to believe this was happening.
When a friend of mine had told me he thought he knew this girl Alicia who also needed a roommate, I’d been reticent about the idea of sharing a living space with a female. What if we were attracted to each other? What if we hooked up? Wouldn’t that complicate things? But those concerns went out the window, when I met Alicia. She was so out of my league physically, I immediately decided the idea that anything could ever happen between us was insane. After all, I was a short, pudgy IT guy, and she was a 6,1’ personal trainer at a high-end gym, downtown. It wasn’t just her perfect skin, her complete lack of body fat, her long, toned legs, and her perky c-cups that made her seem far out of my purview; she was also considerably taller than me, and from living with her, I knew she had the workout habits of a marine. I’d wake up on saturday mornings and on the way to kitchen, find her doing chin-ups, lunges, pushups, sometimes air-boxing with weights in either hand, and that was all after her morning run.
“Morning roomie,” she’d always say with the chipper energy of someone who couldn’t possibly be my same species.
She was obsessed with fitness and so were the guys she dated, all of whom looked like models or pro-athletes, who would crush me with hugs every time they came over. They loved me because they knew what I knew; that I was no threat to their territory. So sure, I thought Alicia was hot (not to mention all her hot female friends from the gym that came over on Thursdays for Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal) but it was easy to accept that that was a completely one-direction attraction, and just go about my day, appreciating having her in the house, the way you’d appreciate expensive art. And other than when I heard her and her boyfriends have epic, endurance sex through the walls, she was a pretty good roommate. We were sort of becoming friends. And on this night, when I’d found her slumped on the couch, in her PJ’s (a grey crop top and matching short shorts) I’d asked her what was wrong. It was guy troubles. This muscle-headed douchebag Tony who she’d dated off-and-on lately was being an asshole again. She said he treated her like garbage. I said, “fuck him, let’s get drunk,” and we did.
“God, he’s just such a prick,” she said after drink number five. “I’m so mad, I just want to like, go hate-fuck him. You know what I mean?”
“Wow. No. Not really,” I said, considerably less drunk than her. I had way more body fat and way more practice with drinking to build up my tolerance.
“I always do that. I show up at his place, pissed off, and he pins me to a wall and fucks me, and I hate it, but I’m like, addicted to it.”
“Wow…that…sucks,” I said, trying to be sympathetic to something I had no experience with.
“I’m gonna go over there,” she said, “getting up.”
“I’m just gonna get it over with.”
“Don’t,” I said, “you don’t need that asshole in your life.”
I got up and blocked her way to the door. She looked me up and down and laughed.
“Oh, what are you, like detaining me,” she said.
“Yes, for your own good. You can’t see that guy.”
“You gonna stop me,” she said, shoving me out of the way.
It was a forceful shove that almost sent me to the wall, but I regrouped, and shoved her back.
“You’re not going anywhere, I said.”
“Are you telling me what to do,” she asked, her tone changed. I should’ve known then, what was going to happen. Alicia was a physical being and she had a surging dose of anger and horniness coursing through her. She needed to take it out on someone. But I was still oblivious to the idea that she would ever set her sights on me.
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“You want to go, little man,” she said, laughing.
“Well, no, because I’m pretty sure you’d crush me,” I joked.
“Actually no, this could be a great way for me to work some of this off. We should totally do it. Let’s wrestle!”
Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the idea of tussling with that body, but a second later, we were facing each other on our knees.
“So, what are like, the rules,” I asked. “Do we try to pin each other or—UMPH!”
She was on top of me.
“Let’s just see what happens,” she said, straddling me and grabbing my wrists.
Within a few seconds, it was clear, not only did she have the advantage in flexibility and stamina, she was stronger. Maybe I could match her upper body, but her legs were long enough and strong enough to push me away from her or pull me towards her no matter how much I resisted.
The first few minutes were the roughest. I just kept coming at her and she kept throwing me around, knocking me back, working out her first wave of pent-up aggression. A few times she even flipped me over.
“Oh my God, are you actually trying,” she gawked. “You’re adorable.”
After the first few minutes though, she settled into pinning me down, sitting on me, or putting me in various leg locks for prolonged periods of time and teasing me about how I couldn’t get out. She’d put me in a head scissors, poke my nose with her finger and say “boop.”
At one point, she wrapped me in a body scissors from behind, snaked her arms behind my head and gave me a wet willy. “Oh no, what’re you gonna do,” she cooed in a high pitched teasing voice. If all the bullies in school who had given me wet willies had looked like her, high school would’ve been way cooler.
Her legs were even stronger than they looked, and I worried she’d go too far and break my ribs or something, but she didn’t seem to be into causing pain, at this point, as much as domination. She just liked keeping me down, knowing I couldn’t go anywhere and the embarrassment was tolerable because of all the close contact with her thighs. Once I was pretty tired out, I graduated from victim to plaything and then she started to really have fun. After about ten minutes, she pulled me over her knee, and hovered her hand over my but like she was going to spank me.
“I shouldn’t, right?”
“Please don’t,” I said. “Let me keep like an ounce of dignity.”
“Okay,” she said, pulling me into a body scissors instead.
“Wow, I was pretty sure I could take you but damn, this isn’t even close. I, like own you, right now, don’t I?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Oh wow,” she giggled, “that was really aggressive of me to say. Sorry, I think I’m getting a little carried away.”
But her aggression only escalated. As she put me in more holds and got higher and higher off the power, her trash-talk got less jokey and more intense, until finally she put me in a grapevine, stared me straight in the face and said “you know what? I do own you, and I’m going to make you say it. I’m going to make you believe it before the night’s over.”
That was the last hold before she’d dragged me to her bedroom and now, here she was overpowering and devouring in between her pink sheets.
“God, why have I wasted so much time dating strong guys,” she said, in between licking my face. “Being the stronger one in the bedroom is…it’s the best feeling I’ve ever felt!”
“Accept it, baby. Give in to your superior. This is nature. The strong take the weak. I am the strong!”
She pulled me over her knee again, and pulled her hand back.
“Please, Alicia, don’t.”
“You know what I want to hear.”
“You own me.”
She lowered her hand for a second, then said “You said it, but you don’t really believe it yet. I’m gonna make you believe it.”
WAP! She spanked me hard.
WAP! WAP! WAP!
“Shh, shh, shh,” she rolled me back over and mounted me, putting a finger over my mouth.
“It’s okay, baby doll.”
She put the finger in my mouth.
“I’m just getting you ready.”
She reached her other hand down onto my rock hard cock, and started to massage it.
“I want to believe you this time,” she said.
She lowered herself onto me, taking my cock inside her and started to ride, slowly at first, but with greater power than I’d ever felt.
“Tell me what I want to hear.”
“You own me, Alicia. I only exist for you.”
“That’s better, babe. But I still don’t believe you.”
She started going faster and harder. I didn’t want to blow my wad early for her, but I felt like I had no control whatsoever.
“You own every part of me Alicia.”
She licked me again and whispered in my ear “go on…”
I was almost at climax now.
“I’m only here for your pleasure and amusement. Every part of me is yours. You’re the only thing that matters to me. You own me—OH MY GOD!”
I came forcefully, spasming up and then back down.
Alicia swooped in on me for a long kiss.
“Good, now I believe you believe it,” she said. “And now that we’ve established that I own you, the fun can really begin.”
She started gyrating again, harder and faster this time. I was fading. She pulled me up into her, my head against her bare, sweaty chest. It felt like home.
“Listen, you have to stay in this,” she told me. “The only rule now is that you stay hard and stay conscious until I’ve done everything I want to do to you. Got that.”
I suddenly wanted badly to please her. Somewhere within me, I found a second wave of strength and started thrusting up into her.
“Oh God, yes, baby! Work for me!”
I don’t know how long we kept going, I just remember, before it was over I kissed every inch of her powerful sculpted body and loved every second of it.
I woke up on the couch, to Alicia doing sit-ups o the floor in front of me.
“Morning, roomie,” she said.
“How did I get on the couch?”
“Beats me,” she said, still doing her set. “We drank so much last night, I don’t remember a thing.”
“Absolutely nothing. Complete blackout,” she said. “Anyway, I think I’ll go see Tony today.”
Did she really remember nothing? Or was she just using that as an excuse not to talk about it? Had she carried me to the couch after she was done with me, to keep me from waking up in her bed? Or did she really not remember? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I’d remember forever.