Soap Opera Slave

Many times she had wished for something more compelling, something more fulfilling that didn't base its value on surface beauty. She never considered herself a beautiful woman, and she felt forced into the role.

Lotion helped remove the makeup now faded from hours spent under the lights and she was left with her most familiar look, that of a woman uncertain and afraid of the future. Discarding the robe, she climbed into the fresh sheets of her bed and hugged the pillow to her chest. She had an appointment with her personal training in the mid morning but until then she had no other plans but to sleep. She fell asleep easily, wrapped in silk sheets, her naked body safely covered.

Night turned to morning and the darkness of the room turned a dim yellow exposing the naked body on the bed, now freed from the wrap of silk, which lay in a pile by her feet. She was deep in a warm dream after exhaustion caused her to sleep through the alarm, missing her appointment with Guillermo, her personal trainer. When the door of her bedroom opened she was unaware and did not notice the man standing by her nightstand observing her naked form until she felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking her not so gently.

It took some time for her to awaken. First her eyes opened slightly and she was unaware both of what was happening and if it was real or a dream. Her body was comfortable on the overstuffed mattress and she felt as if she was floating aimlessly. Rolling on her back, she was surprised to see the strange man, dressed in black jeans and a tight black tank top. She had to shield her eyes to get a better look at him and quickly searched for the bedsheets when she realized her position. Finding none, She curled in a ball, hiding her bare breasts and open sex from the eyes of the stranger.

"Guillermo's out for the rest of the month," he said. "Got a great offer from Catherine Zeta Jones to be her on set trainer while she shoots Son of Zorro." He stopped speaking for a moment and Jessica felt his eyes sizing her up. "I'm his cousin Carlos. I've been a trainer for years and have wonderful references, though I must admit I've never worked in Malibu before. I've heard Southern California was a gold mine for fitness workers. My cousin was right."

She grew uncomfortable as he spoke. Goose pimples broke out on her pale skin more from nervousness than the temperature in the room. "I'll be with you in a minute," she squeaked. "Just give me a chance to get myself together."

He left the room, striding purposefully with the admonition, "Five minutes, you're already much too late."

Once she had thrown water on her face in an effort to wake up and found a t shirt and a pair of loose shorts, she joined him. Her manager had fitted the penthouse with a treadmill, weight machine and free weights for a makeshift gym she didn't use as much as she was told to. Now Carlos was busily looking over the equipment and comparing it with the exercise regimen his cousin had left for him. He was taller than she, though not uncomfortably so, and his skin was a dark cream. His face gave the impression of youth though Jessica supposed he was much older than he appeared to be. His eyes were the most stunning she had ever seen. A dark brown, they seemed to draw her in when they focused on her. He had a soft gaze that made her weak if she held it long enough. His stare was direct and unyielding. She could see a woman losing herself in it.

He was busy in his work when she walked in. "Catherine always gets what she wants. Perfect example of the Hollywood treatment gone to her head. Sometimes I think she was built in a lab from Zsa Zsa Gabor's DNA."

He made no response to her attempt at humor, instead he walked to her, appraising her body. Kneeling down, he felt the muscle tone of her calves and worked upward to her thighs until his hands rested possessively on her buttocks.

Her only reaction was to freeze. She felt violated yet knew better than to speak out. Trainers are supposed to have close interpersonal relationships with their trainers. Guillermo and her had been close, a small but present force in each other's personal lives. She knew the names of his mother and those in his immediate family while he was aware of all her idiosyncrasies and tendency to procrastinate.

Without a word Carlos began loosening her shorts. She grabbed at his wrists to pull them away but he held firm. "This will not do. You've obviously been lax in exercising and you need a regimen and a trainer that won't let you walk over him." He tore the waist of her shorts, a button coming off and flying haphazardly through the air. "Fortunately you now have the latter. I'll make sure to get you on the right program before the day is out."

As he pulled her shorts off her bare legs, she shivered, futilely trying to hide herself from his view. She wore white bikini panties though, thankfully, he made no move to try and remove those. "Up on the treadmill," he said, slapping her ass not so playfully. Cursing under her breath she began walking and increased her pace as he changed her selections on the readout. The treadmill slowly moved to an uphill position. The speed was increased and it wasn't long before she was panting heavily and sweat dripped down her forehead to collect in damp patches on her shirt. All the while she conjured fantasies of what she'd do to this new trainer that embarrassed her in such a way and pushed her farther than he should. She imagined calling all her peers and their agents, outing him so he wouldn't work for anyone that paid more than a thousand a week. No respectable trainer could live on that in L.A. and he'd be forced to move somewhere less affluent and work in a gym where all he could find for clients were overburdened, under exercised housewives that just used him to feel better about their nonexistent health plan.

How could he do this to her? Isn't she the one who paid his bills? She's not the one to take orders from him. Her frustration rose as her speed increased. She grew incensed at the idea of this stranger, one she had never met or even approved of before this day, coming into her home and talking this way to her. One who had the audacity to intrude on her in her own bedroom while she slept! The thought of this man staring at her while she slept naked caused her anger to peak and she grabbed the rails of the treadmill to lift her body from the now rapidly moving belt of the machine.

"Listen!" she yelled at she approached him. He was standing in the doorway where he had a good view of her exercising. Occasionally he would increase her speed and offer encouragement that she found only slightly more pleasant than being gawked at while sleeping. "I don't know who the hell you think you are but I didn't ask for someone to come in and feel me up, ogle me while I'm asleep and criticize me for being upset over seeing a strange man in my home." He looked at her patiently as she continued. "And if you think I'm going to let this continue, let you come in here and watch while I run my ass off for you- an intruder in my home- and talk down to me like I'm some flake that's never set foot in a gym before then you've got it all wrong, mister!"

Rather than look upset or ashamed by her tirade he merely stood there, his eyes keenly glaring at her as she spat out the words. Now worked up beyond any mere exertion, her face was colored a deep red as she stood, suddenly feeing very small. For a moment, he didn't speak, merely appraised her as she began to regret the words that she spewed so easily. His visage appeared darker and as his brow furrowed in anger, she suddenly remembered she stood almost bare, her dampened t shirt and tiny bikini panties all that kept her from being naked in front of him.

As she stood frozen, her arms vainly attempting to cover herself, he walked to her until he stood mere inches from her body. She was eye level with his throat and when he spoke the words seemed to resound in the room.

"You will NOT talk to me in that tone again. I have come to help you be a better person, a better woman, and if I'm not wanted I'll just as soon take my leave but you will be hard pressed to find someone of my abilities." The words were calm and patient but with an underlying tone that she could only describe as a controlled anger. She found herself nodding her head, afraid to interrupt or speak in any way that would upset the man whose eyes held hers so completely. "You need my help more than any client I've ever worked with. You're lazy, rebellious and too used to getting your own way. I will stop all of these traits that are so unseemly in a girl like you."

"Girl?" She thought, "Did he just refer to me as a girl?"

"I won't put up with your attitude so if you've got the idea that I'm just another person you can push around or fire because they won't kiss your daytime tv queen ass then you can just forget it. A lot of people put up with your act in this town because they have to. I don't. I won't. So let me be perfectly clear. Get back on that treadmill now, turn the level up to make up for the time you've wasted and maybe this day can be salvaged." He ended just as calmly as he began, his eyes still holding hers, unrelenting.

His speech ran through her mind and though she felt angry, she found it slowly dissipating. Something uncertain had changed between them, something both of them felt as surely the sweat collecting on her brow. She no longer wanted to yell at this man. She felt embarrassed for what she had done and now wanted only to leave herself in his hands. She wanted to be the better girl for him to mold into the perfect woman, as she always wanted to be. Not looking forward to continuing the exercise but knowing better than to refuse, she turned to the treadmill only to feel the aching muscles of her thighs cramp and give out. She hit the floor with a clumsy thud and, tears forming at the corners of her eyes, raised up on her hands and knees to humbly crawl to the machine.

Arms folded he watched her with pleasure. He'd seen such cases before and knew the only way to make any progress. Grabbing her arm, he rudely yanked her up until she stood shakily on the balls of her feet. Without hesitation he led her to the far wall, throwing her so she stood palms flat against it. He held her by the neck, his thumb and fingers almost completely encircling it, and felt her tremble. She was scared, that was certain, but she was willing. She was learning and he had only to teach her what she needed.

One hand against the back of her thigh, he caressed the velvet- smooth skin until his touch rested on the fullness of her bottom. He could hear her breathing quicken and slipped his hand into the waistband, prolonging her torment. There he felt the soft fullness of her cheeks and the slick warmth of her crack. For a moment, he rested there, gauging her anticipation as she buckled under his touch.

Slowly, as if wanting her to be fully aware of the action, he pulled her panties down and let them drop to her ankles. With a short command- "Feet up"- she rose and he pulled them off and threw them behind him. Then, in one unexpected swift movement, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head and stripped it from her body.

Before this morning it had been months since she'd been naked in front of a man and now to be seen bare twice in one day in front of a strange man made her shake. She felt weak, helpless and wanted to cover herself and run but knew she could not. She felt his eyes on her body, viewing her as no man ever had before. He saw her as a recalcitrant, obnoxious, weak girl. Just the thought of his eyes on her brought a warm moisture to her sex.

He caressed her gently for a second before gripping the full heft of her asscheek possessively. Releasing it, she sensed the impact before it landed and steeled herself. His hand left a bright print on her left cheek, causing her to clench her teeth. Again his hand rose and fell, this time on her opposite side. The sting burst on her flesh and she cried inwardly, determined not to let out a sound. She was more than he thought. This was the only way to prove it to him. Whether it is running until she collapsed or the pain of his open hand she would not allow herself to crumble in front of him.

As his hand continued its assault on her yielding bottom, her face became a grimace of determination. Eyes wincing tightly and jaw held in a firm lock, she kept all whimpers and cries to herself. Meanwhile her butt, now a bitter crimson, continued to receive the strikes of his cruel hand. She was bound to fall and cursed herself for this fact, seeing it as a weakness. Just as soon as the thought passed through her head, his blows stopped. For a moment all she could feel was the dull throb that radiated throughout her entire backside, seemingly worse than the actual spanks. She was thankful for the moment of peace and breathed heavily.

There was a sound then, a quick, blurred sound that she recognized as the sound of a belt being pulled from its loops. She knew what would happen and began to cry in spite of herself. She made no noise, save for the soft sniffles, though she was certain Carlos heard it. This only made her cry more, all before even the first lick of the belt touched her skin.

He watched her, her sculpted, round body shaking ceaselessly, her fire red butt incongruous with the fair clear skin of her body. Her rear was full, round and slightly heavy. With each sob a tiny ripple spread throughout the expanse of her bottom. One hand left the wall, allowing her to bury her face in her palm, crying pitifully.

With a not unpleasant sigh, he reared the thick leather of his belt over his shoulder and aimed at the wide target of her back end. The belt whipped through the air, making a whistling sound before it connected, sending a burst of pain through her hindquarters. Before the sensation spread he raised his arm once more and delivered another, then another and another. Jessica cried openly now, lost to all promises of a stoic façade. Instead she found herself giving in to all he wanted. She had proven herself to be what he considered her; a weak, pampered, bitchy, lost girl.

What she found most disconcerting, however, was the fact that he didn't say a word as his hand and belt sent waves of pain through her tender skin. He made barely a sound at all as he immersed himself in his purpose and was sure of what he had to do. She could only stand and face what he had decided.

This made it all the more difficult and she found herself unable to stay on her feet. Her butt seared in pain and the muscles of her body ached. She fell, just as she dreaded she would. Her body felt broken and from the corner of her eye she made out the soles of his shoes as he waited patiently. She cried without pretense, her tears flowing copiously as she knew she had finally met her better, the one who would not allow himself to be pushed and someone that would not take her excuses. At the same time she felt the patch of fur between her thighs dampen and rose up to slowly crawl towards him.

Keeping her eyes toward the floor as she crawled, she came to the toe of his shoes. With her eyes closed and lips puckered she leaned towards it, offering a mere kiss as token of her surrender. Time felt supremely slow, the picture seemingly frozen altogether; a beautiful, naked woman kneeling before an imperious man offering all she can with a kiss.

Before it touched, she was pulled up. Broken from her trance, she opened her eyes to see the room in a blur as he spun her around. His strong arm wrapped around her neck and she could feel his breath in her ear as he spoke; "Not yet, dear....you must earn that." She winced in acceptance and felt her body go slack as he supported her weight. Holding her by her shoulders, his other arms wrapped beneath her breasts where he could grab them.

He left a deep pain in her nipple as he pinched it mercilessly, causing her to cry out. "For now you're my toy," he taunted. "I'll do with you as I wish and you have no choice but to obey."

She nodded, fearful of further pain he could cause her tender breasts. To her surprise his touch turned soft. Tenderly her stroked her nipple with warm fingers, touching it as a lover. Turning her face upwards, she closed her eyes and moaned anxiously, fully aware of how she appeared to him. Her feet danced, toes barely touching the floor as he held her like a puppet, his slightest touch eliciting a response from her weakened body.

Just as quickly and without notice, his fingers became firm. His gentle caress turned to firmness then to sharp pain. Allowing her time to collect herself, he gripped her erected nipple once more between his fingers and twisted slowly. He pushed her beyond what she was used to, even in her solitary, stroking fantasies. Tears reformed in her eyes, this time from the pain and she bit back an urge to cry out or fight back. She knew she was too weak to do either.

He moved to her other nipple and she felt the pain before his touch, like a premonition of what was to come. Her legs kicked and swung from under her, finding no footing. Held completely off the ground in his arms now, she knew she had no choice but to bear what he wished for her.

Mercifully his cruel hands left her breasts and she cried out in relief. The smooth warmth of his palm traveled down her torso, over her smooth belly to the juncture between her thighs. His hand held her completely, fully cupping her mound in the hollow of his hand. It was a wonderful sensation that made her feel secure and protected by the same hand that moments ago brought only sharp pain.

His fingers were gentler now, fervently loving her as his lips traveled up her neck, causing a rush of warmth that traveled through her sore breasts down to her pleading cunt. Instead of the cruelty she felt there was only tender softness and she found herself opening her thighs in invitation to his probing fingers. The middle finger of his hand slipped along her slit, finding it slick and hot. To her surprise, she was flowing heavily. Juices oozed out of her canal, drenching her thighs. A generous amount collected between the heavy globes of her ass.

He kissed her then. With her eyes closed, mouth parted and head turned upwards, she did not expect it. As their lips met his fingers rubbed her lips playfully. When he found the pleading nub of her clit, he clamped his fingers around it tightly. He brought no pain upon it, only held it possessively between his two fingers.

Her mouth opened and she breathed herself into him as he did this. She wanted to reach up and grasp him but his strong arms held her fast and she remained immobile. His bulge pressed deeply between her flayed cheeks as evidence of his need yet he remained unwavering.

Her flesh twitched though he allowed her only the slightest motion and moved her body in rhythm with his hands. She felt her climax approach, filling her with an equal sense of both dread and joy. It would be the true sign of her surrender and though that upset her, she knew there was no way to deny it. Her body needed the release, cried, begged and screamed for it and inevitably it would have it. She only need to let go, give in to him and enjoy that which she had so worked for.

When their kiss broke the first wave hit her. Her eyes immediately widened to stare up at his confident gaze. He knew exactly what he had done to her and knew exactly how she felt. Throughout the ordeal he had played her as she'd always hoped but could never admit, even to herself. The thought caused her to weep openly and her body twitched like a fish suddenly thrust into a waterless world. His iron grip held her as her body reacted to the waves of pleasure, tossing her in his arms. His hand began rapidly patting her sex as her climax erupted. Firm, gentle taps of his fingers drove her further and her sobbing, helpless body broke before him.