The High School Gymnast Vs. The NFL Pro Bowler
by Mr.Purple357@gmail.com
Chapter 2


Comments to Mr.Purple357@gmail.com

I lay naked in the bed. She must have stripped me while I was out. She still
had her clothes on.

"How did we get here? Master," I added hastily as I looked up at Carrie then
around my room. I wondered if I could get to the nightstand on the other side
of the bed before she could stop me.

"I stuffed you into my new Ferrari." I'm sure she meant my Ferrari. "And drove
us back here." She leapt up and flipped over me to land in the center of the
bed. She began bouncing up and down, each leap carrying her up until her
flying hair brushed the fifteen foot high ceilings. She did a forward flip and
pulled off her yoga pants. Her shapely, toned legs shot to the side as she
landed in a split then bounced back up again. "I just love my new bed."

She did a backflip and pulled off her t-shirt. I almost gasped. Her breasts
were too large for her small frame and way bigger than any gymnast's. Her
panties and bra were both a dark red that tried but couldn't quite match her
hair. With each leap upward as her hair flew around her face, the light made
it look like it was on fire. Each time she dropped down, her hair fell around
her like sheets of blood. If Satan had a daughter, this was what she'd look
like.

I didn't get long to admire her beauty. On the next leap upward, her foot shot
out striking me in the ribs. I flew off the bed and slammed into the far wall.
Hitting the wall hurt but the kick to the rib was much more painful. I
wondered if she'd cracked one. I slid to the floor, my crushed arm took the
brunt of the fall.

Underneath my bed, I saw my aluminum baseball bat. I didn't know if that would
be enough to stop her but I had to try. I couldn't take much more of this.
Even if the bat wasn't enough, maybe it'd give me a chance to get into my
nightstand. I gathered my feet under me, than before I could think about it, I
grabbed up the bat, leapt onto the bed, and rammed the butt end into her
stomach.

She flew off the bed but did a double backflip to land on her feet. I leapt
after her. Raising the bat above my head, I brought it down with all my might
toward her. She raised an arm and the bat slammed into her forearm. Her arm
didn't budge but the bat almost flew from my hands. I landed on the floor in
front of her, reset as if I were swinging for a homerun, and slammed it right
into her gut.

It landed squarely. I heard a solid bang as it struck. But now that she was
back on the ground, she didn't move at all. This time the bat did fly from my
hands. She gracefully leapt over me, caught it, and said, "Nice to see you
have some fight left in you." She held the fat end of the bat in her hand and
squeezed it. The hollow bat collapsed with a loud squeal. "Not that it'll do
you any good." She then twisted the thing like it was no stronger than taffy.

"Ta-da," she said, holding out the now pretzel shaped bat.

Since she was busy showing off and I was right next to my nightstand, I dove
for it and pulled the drawer open. Where was it? Frantically, I shoved stuff
around. She laughed, hopped off the bed and walked to my dresser. She opened
the top drawer and pulled out my 45. "Looking for this?" She waved it at me.

I stood there, defeated, about to cry again. "Here, take it." Holding the
barrel, she extended the handle towards me.

I shook my head. "You're trying to trick me, Master. You took out the
bullets." She shook her head, popped out the clip to show me the bullets were
still there. She slapped the clip back in and extended the gun back at me.

"No tricks. It's your gun, untampered with. Now, take it." I shook my head
again. There was no way she was just going to hand me a gun. "If you don't
take it, I'm going to make your left arm look like your right," she finally
said.

I reached out my hand and she gently gave the gun to me. I examined it, popped
the clip again, yep real 45 slugs, pulled the trigger. The firing pin seemed
to work. I shoved the clip back in and released the safety. I don't know why
she gave me the gun, but since I already thought she was insane, I decided to
count my blessings. "All right," I said pointing it at her, "don't move, I'm
going to call the police." I felt a deep relief, my nightmare was almost over.

She took a step toward me. I stepped back. I knew how fast she was; if I let
her get too close, she could snatch the gun back. I circled around and got a
good ten feet away from her. "I told you, don't move. I don't want to shoot
you, but I will if I have to."

She took a step towards me. "Go ahead," she dared me. "I'm not sure you have
the balls." She took another step.

I extended the gun. "I'm not kidding, Carrie. I'd hate to kill you, but I'm
not letting you get any closer."

She took another step. I didn't even feel myself pull the trigger. I only know
I did because I heard a loud bang, bang. Carrie's body convulsed as the first
slug struck her stomach, the second her right breast. She fell to the floor.
As I ran over to her, a large part of me felt terrible for what I'd done, but
another part was saying - thank God she's dead.

She had a large red mark on her breast just above the bra and another right
above her navel. I looked more closely. No, no fucking way. There wasn't any
blood, the bullets hadn't pierced her skin. Her eyes popped open. She smiled
at me. I tried to back away but she kipped to her feet and wrenched the gun
from my hand. My finger almost snapped as the trigger guard pulled over it.

"Wow, that hurt way more than my Dad's 38. If you'd gotten me in the eye or
mouth, you might have actually taken me down." She popped the clip and let it
fall to the floor. "Better get rid of this." She grabbed the barrel in one
hand and the handle in the other and bent the barrel over without much more
effort than she'd used to crush my bat. She tossed it aside and said, "Now, I
have to punish you."

I trembled in terror. She'd seriously injured my arm, cracked a rib, and maybe
dislocated a finger without trying. After seeing how easily she'd destroyed my
gun, there was no doubt she could break every bone in my body with just her
pinkie. "But, but Master," I stuttered, "you told me to take the gun. I only
did what you said." She hadn't told me to shoot her per se but I was
desperate.

"I'm not punishing you for that. I'm not even punishing you for hitting me
with the baseball bat."

"Then why, Master?" I asked, backing away.

She moved with blinding speed so she was inches from me. "I'm punishing you
because when you had the gun, you stopped calling me Master. You thought you
were in charge again. You thought you were safe, so you thought you could stop
showing me the proper respect. That's why I'm punishing you."

I dove down to her feet and started kissing them. I didn't even think about
it, I was so scared of her. "Please, Master, please forgive me," I sobbed,
tears flowed down my face as I repeatedly pushed my lips onto each one of her
toes.

She put a finger under my chin and pulled my face up to look at her. "No," she
replied. Then the most humiliating thing happened. I lost control of my
bladder and I pissed all over the floor. I tried to stop it, but it was
impossible. "Ugh, disgusting. You're lucky my bedroom floor is hardwood. If
you'd pissed on the carpet, I'd have broken one of your legs," she told me.
She tossed me one of my tee shirts from the dresser. "Clean it up, quickly."

I rushed to obey her. Once I finished, I saw her sitting on the bed, she
pointed to her lap. "Lie here," she ordered. Oh, God, I realized. She was
going to spank me.

"Please, Master, please don't," I begged.

She pointed to her lap. "Don't make me repeat myself."

I forced myself to lay over her lap knowing that the alternative would be even
worse. I held my breath as she raised her hand. It slammed down with such
force the windows rattled. I screamed in pain as not only my ass felt searing
pain, but every bone in my body ached with the force of the blow being
transmitted by her powerful hand. I wailed aloud and blubbered pleas for her
to stop, but the next blow struck as hard as the first. "Master, why are you
doing this to me? You've already proven you're the toughest person in Texas.
You're the toughest person on Earth."

She paused and said, "You know the saying, 'Might makes right'." She slammed
another blow to my ass.

"Master, forgive me, but that's the exact opposite of the saying. I've always
been stronger than those around me but I've never used my strength to get my
way."

She shrugged. "Yeah, but face it, if normal people are here." She held her
foot up a few inches off the floor. "You may be here." She lifted her foot up
another few inches, then she raised her hand above her head. "While I'm way up
her." She brought that hand down on me. Two more blows landed before she
grabbed me up and tossed me down onto the bed with no more effort than if I
were one of the pillows.

She stood above me and then did something that shocked me. She pulled off her
panties. She had a small patch of hair that matched the ever changing shade of
red atop her head. She dropped down onto my face. "Get to work," she
commanded.

I stuck my tongue out and started licking as hard as I could. If she thought
this was adding to my humiliation, she'd finally miscalculated. I don't
normally like eating pussy, but hers smelled like honeysuckle and tasted like
a late harvest Riesling. As she started moaning, despite my fear, I felt my
cock harden at her awesome beauty. I ran my good hand up along her powerful
thigh, feeling the slender but steely hard muscle under the silky smooth skin.

Her moaning became much louder as she came and more of her juices poured out
into my mouth. I moved my hand along her bulletproof abs. In spite of my own
pain, my dick was rock hard. I noticed that the red mark from where the bullet
struck her stomach had already faded to a light pink. As her moaning began to
lighten, my hand drifted up towards her spectacular chest, excited at the
thought of rubbing those perfect orbs. Before I could though, her hand grabbed
mine and painfully bent it back. "What do you think you're doing? Who said you
could touch me?" She looked back and saw my hard dick. "And what is with this
tiny thing?" She grabbed it and bent it painfully.

First, for the record, Carrie's just being cruel, my dick is a little shy of
9" so while I'd seen a few bigger on Pornhub, no honest person would call it
tiny. Second, the pain dwarfed even that of my arm. I didn't know what would
happen to it if she decided to keep bending but I was terrified at the
thought. "Please, Master, I couldn't help myself, you're just so gorgeous and
sexy, my body naturally became excited by being near you."

A small smile crossed her face, the first smile I'd seen that hadn't been
cruel or sinister. Her grip on my dick lessened, so I really laid it on. "It's
true Master, I've been with an A list movie star, two TV stars, three pop
stars, two Victoria Secret's models, and four fashion models, but none of them
were half as hot as you are."

Carrie was as interested in famous celebrities as any other modern teenage
girl and she commanded me to name names and go into great detail about how and
why she was so much hotter than any of them. Her harsh grip relaxed into a
gentle stroking of her index finger along my shaft. And because she really was
about as gorgeous as I told her she was, and looking at her and talking about
it, just aroused me more and more, I knew she'd make me cum soon. And I knew
that might be the worst thing I could do if I didn't want my dick torn off.
"Master, if you keep touching me with your wonderfully perfect hand, I'm going
to cum. I know you haven't given me permission but my body just won't be able
to control itself."

She frowned at me but then said, "You know what B.B. Maybe you deserve a
reward, so I'm going to let you blow your load."

"Really, Master?" I said both surprised and suspicious. She nodded, but as she
did, she slid to the side and put her arm under my legs and lifted them up,
rolling me up. I used both of my huge thighs to push back against her tiny arm
but it was a total mismatch, my legs were like wet noodles against her steely
arm. In moments she'd made me into a ball. My twitching cock was now aimed
inches from my face. I sobbed, she was going to make me jizz all over my face.

No, it was worse than that. She put her other hand under my jaw and pulled
down slightly. If I didn't want my teeth shattered, I had to open my mouth. My
cum would go right into it. I had one hope left, now that she wasn't touching
my dick, maybe I could keep from cumming.

"Ok, B.B. go ahead and cum, your Master commands it," she ordered then she
blew on my dick. No, no, no, I thought, but it was no use. She so owned my
body, she was so gorgeous, so powerful, and her hot breath felt so wonderful,
my cock did as she willed. I felt my loins tighten, then a huge rope of cum
blasted out. Bridging the gap between my dick and mouth, it struck the back of
my throat. I kept firing helplessly, harder than I'd ever cum for the movie
stars, the pop stars, or even the Victoria Secret's lingerie models. She
wouldn't let me close my mouth so I had to swallow or choke, and keep
swallowing as my mouth was flooded with my jizz. Only when I stopped blasting
did she shove my mouth closed so I'd have to swallow every drop.

She laughed the whole time. When it was done, she said, "Ok, I have to admit,
that really was impressive. I think you must have been telling the truth about
how sexy you think I am." She yawned, "But I'm getting tired and I want to
enjoy a good night's sleep in my new bed." She grabbed up the remains of my
aluminum baseball bat and twisted a loop around my wrist. She then marched me
to my kitchen and wrapped the other end of the baseball bat around the steel
door handle of my large built in refrigerator. "If you get hungry, knock
yourself out," she told me with mock generosity.

With my good arm bound and my bad one now so swollen I could barely move it, I
couldn't free myself. I eventually slumped to the floor and entered into a
painful waking sleep. Not long after dawn, she popped up in front of me. "Ok,
make me breakfast and I'll give you your tasks for the day." She freed me from
the fridge and I made her an omelet.

I needed to get away from her. I needed medical attention immediately. My arm
had swollen to twice its normal size and was black from shoulder to elbow. If
I didn't get help soon, they might have to amputate it. Desperately, I told
her, "Master, we have a mandatory team meeting today. I hate to leave you but
I must go to work."

She sneered, "Blow it off."

"My apologies Master, but if I get fired, the bank will try to repossess your
Ferrari and your house. Of course, I will obey you but I feel I have to tell
you what might happen." This was all bullshit. I made 30 million in salary and
endorsements last year, most of which I'd saved, and I owned the house and car
outright. And as a star player, no one would care if I blew off a meeting. But
she'd said she didn't know football and I gambled that as a teenager, she
wouldn't know much about how any of these things worked.

She mulled it for a long moment. "Ok, come with me." I followed her back into
her room. She opened a bag and tossed two pieces of cloth at me. They were a
lacy pink bra and pink undies, just big enough to fit me. "Put them on," she
ordered.

I sighed but did as she commanded. "Don't they look cute on you," she teased.
Once I put on my outer clothes she continued. "Now, once you're in the locker,
you are to undress and take a selfie of yourself. And I'd better see some
other players in the background. So have fun and be back before dark or I will
come and find you." She flexed her little super powered bicep. "I think you've
learned by now that nothing can stop me."

I didn't even argue or ask her why she so wanted to humiliate me, what was the
point. She just did. "Yes, Master."

She let me drive the Volvo. As I drove along the I10, I thought about some of
the battered women's shelters I'd visited and how many of them were in
relationships like the one I was now trapped in, too afraid to do anything to
stop their abuser. I'd encouraged them all to be brave and that the police
could protect them. I realized that I had to take my own advice. Despite what
she'd said, those bullets had hurt Carrie. If they could hurt her, then a SWAT
team with assault rifles could certainly take her down.

I drove past the stadium, hoping my arm would hold up, and on downtown to
police HQ. As a popular player, I had a lot of friends on the force and was
soon in front of a police captain I knew. I told him my story. He listened
quietly, then he started laughing. "B.B. that's the funniest thing I've ever
heard. The mighty B.B. Ohm getting beaten up and molested by a teen girl. I
never knew you had such a great sense of humor."

"I'm not joking," I said in shock. "You have to believe me. I'm scared for my
life." He just started laughing again. "Look, just send some men to my house
and you'll see. Make sure they're ready though or she'll tear them apart."

"Oh, God, I can't take any more. An armed squad taken down by a pretty
redhead. Seriously, B.B., I have to get back to work. Detective Jones, escort
B.B. to his car." A man almost as big as me grabbed me lightly by the arm.

"This way, Sir."

"But, but," I stuttered. He pulled on me harder. The Captain had already made
a phone call and was ignoring me. Stunned, I followed the detective to the
elevator. How can he blow me off like this? As I got in the elevator, I
reviewed my options, I knew some FBI agents, maybe they'd listen. Or maybe I
should get in the car and keep driving, there must be someplace I could hide
from her.

Once the elevator doors closed, Detective Jones said, "I'm sorry Mr. Ohm, we
can't allow anyone to find out about this. No one you try to tell will ever
believe you." As I turned to confront him, for the second time in 24 hours,
everything went black.