Personal Trainer

I stepped up onto the curb and walked down the block past the fashionable little boutiques and the restaurants opening for lunch. I sought out the plain, deep blue door numbered 1441 towards the middle of the block, and found it, trying the handle and finding it locked. I peered through the border of the etched glass pane at the staircase and the exposed brick walls, and then turned to the brass intercom, slinging my gym bag higher over my shoulder.

The door buzzed and I made my way up to the third floor, past the vague sounds of people diligently working in offices beyond nondescript doors, past the ficus trees in large pots, and down a long taupe hallway to an isolated door behind a bathroom. Affixed to the door there was a little black placard indicating that I had found the right numbered unit, and a paper printout encased in plastic which read only, “Athletic Endeavors – By appointment only.”

It wasn’t that I was out of shape. In fact I had a job that was pretty physically demanding and I managed to keep up with my physique thanks to that, which was good because I didn’t really have any particular interest in exercise. But I had heard from a lady friend of mine that training with Miss Jenn not only produced results but was, to use her phrase, a “transcendent experience”.

I had looked at her with a little skepticism. “And what exactly does that mean?”

She had returned my gaze in an unusual way and paused, sizing me up a little, before saying, “Let’s just say it’s an unusual kind of workout.” I wasn’t sure, but I thought she might have winked at me. “I’ll make an appointment for you.”

“Oh, no, really, that’s okay. I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Just trust me. Knowing you, I think you in particular might get something out of it.”

I took a breath and rapped softly on the door.

“Well just give me her information then, and I’ll set something up.”

“She won’t do it, it’s referrals only. Her client list is very exclusive. And anyway I’m not sure she’d take you, being a man, but who knows? She might like the challenge.”

When it opened there was a full, statuesque vision before me in a black sports bra with flat, muscular abs stretching out to a pair of heather grey spandex leggings that stopped at her thick, muscular thighs. I caught myself having let my eyes drift down her body and snapped them back to her face. She looked Hawaiian, and had striking features beneath jet black hair that was up in a tight ponytail. Her deep, rich, dark chocolate eyes were calculating and tough, but there was a bright, lush, persistent elegance and gentleness like a waterfall flowing through her strong frame. I looked at her, breathless, floored by her vitality, and she sighed and began tapping her foot expectantly on the threshold. The sound drew my gaze quickly downward, and I saw her thick, white tube socks with thick black rings disappearing into her black and hot pink Nikes.

“Hi, uh,” I murmured as I looked up at her again. “I…”

“Yes,” she said, snapping her foot down a final time. “I know. And you’re late. Come in.”

She stepped aside and shut the door behind me as I entered the bright, open room. It looked like the small, historic building through which I came in from the street had been joined to the top floor of the one next to it, and the room took up an entire floor. The brick of the walls had been painted over in white, and the room was split down the middle into a mirrored half with a ballet rail and a dance floor, which had been covered with thick, blue, rectangular mats, and the other half had thinner squares of grey foam covering the hardwood floor, with a treadmill, an elliptical machine, a set of small dumbbells, a red, medium-sized exercise ball, a pull-up bar, and a rack draped with some colored Therabands. Opposite these were a set of four large, arched windows draped with sheer white curtains, which bathed the whole scene in pale, late morning light.

“So,” she said as she closed and locked the door, “Karen’s told me a few things about you. I trust she’s told you about me?”

“Just that you’re quite the trainer,” I said, and she smiled at the word.

“So I’ve been told.” She eyed my gym bag. “She didn’t say anything about what I do though?”

I shook my head. “She was pretty cagey about it actually.”

“She ought to have been. I don’t think many of my clients would share too much about what I put them through. I offer a very particular kind of physical fitness service. It’s strenuous, demanding, and it’s designed to work your body, mind, and spirit. It’s a workout for your entire being. Do you think you’re up for something like that?”

“Well,” I said, feeling like I had heard that before and still unsure of what she had in mind. “That sounds like quite the experience, yes.”

“Good.” She went to the corner and adjusted the thermostat, and I heard the central heating system kick on. It was warm already and apparently it was about to get warmer. “I hope you brought water like I told you to. We’re going to sweat today.”

She turned back around and I shifted under her gaze as she stuck her hands on her hips and said, “You and I are going to compete against each other for several rounds, and depending on the outcome of each round there will be consequences or rewards for you, which we’ll discuss as we go.” I looked over her muscular body, and I nodded slowly. “As we go on, both the consequences and rewards get greater, and you’ll either leave here completely broken or on top of the world. It’s all down to you.”

I took a moment to consider the prospect, but I was feeling more and more hypnotized by her beauty, her prowess, and her apparent power. So I said yes, ready, or so I believed, for whatever would happen next.

“Good,” she said again.

She walked across the room to the edge of the mat and turned back to face me, crossing her arms and tapping her foot again. “Well?” she said impatiently, looking me up and down. “You think we’re gonna do this with you dressed like that?”

“No, I… I mean I’ll go change.”

“No you won’t,” she replied. “You’ll strip.”

“S… strip?” I repeated.

“Down to your underwear. Maybe next time you’ll come prepared.”

I sat down my things and nervously undid my belt and shirt, my heart pounding and thinking in my head that, yes, this certainly was unusual. I didn’t protest though, my compliance driven by some mixture of curiosity, intimidation, a deeply misguided optimism, and the desire to please, and I followed her, nearly naked, onto the mats.

She was about my size, both in height and nearly so in mass, though naturally we were constructed a bit differently. I weighed things out and felt I had a pretty good shot, but the way she moved and seemed to prepare herself had me wondering. She did a few stretches and indicated for me to do the same, and then she clapped her hands and instructed me to get down on the mat.

“We’ll start off light,” she said, sticking her elbow into the mat and holding out her hand. “This much ought to be fairly simple,” she said as I mirrored her and grasped her hand. “We’re gonna arm wrestle, and if you win you get to keep wearing those briefs of yours for the rest of our session.”

My stomach lurched and I almost did a double take. What had she said? She was unflinching as I looked into her eyes.

“If I win, you lose ’em, and you get a kick to the balls. Understand?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, but I realized I was nodding, and she gripped her fingertips against my hand. “Ready? Go!”

Immediately I was astonished by her strength. I flinched, keeping her from winning outright, and then I gasped and strained as I struggled to get our hands back to the middle. She didn’t look at me, didn’t look at our hands. In fact, she didn’t seem to be looking anywhere, any more than she seemed troubled or put off by her efforts. She just cocked her head, and listened almost, as she put everything into her arm.

Internally I flailed, unable to believe the ease with which she was able to answer what efforts I was able to make, and I felt the creeping sensation of my future taking shape. It was dawning on me that I would lose and have to make good on the bet we had made, and I struggled a few more times, and then suddenly her eyes snapped to mine and she slammed my wrist to the mat.

And just like that my fate was sealed. She let go of my hand as I absorbed this fact, and she smirked and shook her head a little as she got up. “I thought you’d do a little better than that,” she said. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder if you want to get anything but punishment out of this.”

I rolled over and stood, hardly believing what was about to happen, but she assured me plainly as she took a step back. “Come on. Take ’em off. Toss them aside. Feet apart. Spread ’em!” I shook a little, and stumbled as I took off my underwear, and then humiliatingly I widened the space between my feet, letting my manhood dangle. “Hands behind your back!” I couldn’t look, couldn’t watch, but I heard and sensed her all the more as she took a step forward and slammed her sneaker up into my balls.

I hit the mat again, clutching myself and groaning, overwhelmed by the blunt, aching pain, and she laughed and came to stand over me. “That’s one,” she said, and for a moment I worried that she would kick me again, but instead she got down beside me and said, “Roll over on your stomach.”

She gave me a moment, and then she said, “Now the both of us are going to do some pushups. You’re going to try to keep up with me, and it’s not just a question of who does more. Whenever you drop I’m gonna keep going, and for every one that I can do without you, your bare ass is gonna get a spank on each cheek. Understand?”

I nodded again, suddenly thinking of Karen and what she had gotten me into, wondering what it had been like for her. “Ready?” she said again, and I had no time to say no. “Go!”

“Keep up with your form! I wanna see that dick touch the ground.” She counted them off as we went, and I was ashamed how quickly my arms started burning. The way she was making me do them made each one that much more difficult. I glanced out of the corner of my eye at her and saw how practiced and efficient she was, how powerfully and skillfully she executed each rep. It was almost unreal.

For whatever reason my mind fixed on the idea of doing ten, and when I made it there I sighed as I collapsed. To my further astonishment, not only did she keep going, a little grin of relish shaping her breath as she started going faster, but as she counted them off even louder I knew how easily I had given up.

“Twenty-three! Twenty-four! … Twenty-five!” She dropped down and panted too, but she was obviously pleased with how well it had gone for her. A moment passed quickly, and then she sprang up and stepped across the room to the exercise ball.

“Come on,” she said, still catching her breath, calling back at me. “Pay up.”

I got to my feet and walked over to her, still abundantly conscious of my nudity, and when I reached her she pointed to her knees and with another stiff measure of humiliation I laid across them and waited. She shifted suddenly, bouncing on the ball, and my penis fell between her thighs, but she pinched them back together and bounced on the ball a little bit before beginning her work on my ass.

The sting of her palm hit my left cheek, and then my right, and she counted them off again as she went. I lurched and jerked with the first few smacks, my face probably turning as red as my rear, and I winced and let out a small grunt or two as she went on, going faster and faster as if sprinting to the end. When she was done she grabbed my ass firmly and squeezed before opening her legs and pushing me back to the floor.

“Wow,” she laughed. “You’re having a hard time, huh? We’re just getting warmed up you know.”

She got up and went to the side of the room, and I heard her unclip my water bottle from the strap of my duffel bag before coming back with it and her own. I had stood back up by the time she reached me, and when she handed me mine I raised it to her in a gesture of thanks. The cool, clean liquid splashed into my mouth, and I swallowed it down and breathed.

“Okay,” she said, returning her bottle to a spot on the wall and checking the time on her phone before waving me over to join her. “Time for another challenge.” She took me over to the pull-up bar and demonstrated the proper technique and where to put my hands, and then she quickly knocked out a set of 15, counting them off as she went. I couldn’t help but marvel at her, at her physique but also her stamina and her energy. I watched her chest and the cascade of the muscles in her arms, and the way she held her legs.

As she dropped back to the floor she caught her breath and said, “If you can do the same you’ll get to put your clothes back on. If not it’s 25 sit-ups. Agreed?”

The punishment seemed simple enough, and certainly less embarrassing than the last two, so I agreed and got in position under the bar. I reached up and felt exposed again in my nudity, but in a way I was actually getting used to it. Somehow her strength and ability, and of course the intimate privacy of her space, gave me a security that made me feel enrobed by my nakedness.

I reached for the bar and hoisted myself up, and as I lowered down again she crossed her arms and started counting. “One!” she said loudly as I raised my chin to the bar, and as she went on I felt the strain become greater and greater. “Eleven! Come on! Twelve! Come on! Three more! Thir… Come on! Do it!”

I grunted as I dropped, unable to go on. I took a knee and squinted, my arms burning and feeling spent. I opened them again and she had her arms crossed triumphantly, and she smirked at me again and shook her head. “Twelve,” she said. “Okay then, come on. 25 sit-ups.”

She instructed me to lie down and coached me on the proper technique and telling me to keep my hands at my sides, but then to my surprise she swung her leg over my body and looked down at me. “Oh, and I forgot.” She leaned down closer to my face. “I’m gonna squat over you while you do them, and on every one you’re gonna come up and kiss my ass.”

I was shocked as she turned around, and she stepped back a little and squatted about halfway down, placing her hands on her hips and cocking back her elbows. I looked up at her thick, muscular, and perfectly shaped ass as it descended towards me, and she barked, “Come on, I want my 25! Go!”

I sat up and kissed, the sweaty grey of her ass swinging into my face, and as it mashed against me she counted again. Again and again I raised my shoulders and strained to reach her, and she even taunted me by pulling away a few times, flexing her back ever so slightly at just the last moment.

“Come on!” she said again. “Kiss my ass.”

On the twenty-fifth one she stood up again, and I collapsed back to the floor with another panting grunt. She cocked her elbows out and shook her hips over me, and then she went back for her water bottle against the wall.

“Okay,” she said again, checking the time and taking a long drink. She wiped her mouth and breathed. “Well since you were late, we’re gonna have to skip to the main event now. We’re gonna go over on the mat again, and we’re gonna wrestle until one of us can pin the other for three seconds.”

She put her hands on her hips and cocked them, looking me up and down. I was already feeling close to done, but the hair almost stood up on the back of my neck as she continued. “If you win, I’ll take off my clothes and allow you to see me naked, and I’ll even let you get down on your knees and masturbate in front of me. Sound good?”

Of course, I thought to myself. It sounded incredible, and I tried to imagine what was beyond the layers of form-fitting spandex she wore. “And if you win?” I replied, and she just smiled to herself and looked right into my eyes.

“If,” she emphasized, “I win… I’m gonna humiliate you ruthlessly and I’m gonna make you kiss my feet.” I looked down at her sneakers as she lifted one heel and flexed her foot, and when I looked back at her she smirked and raised an eyebrow, looking like she’d enjoy nothing more.

I was surprised. There was something forbidding in the way she said it, but it didn’t even really sound that bad. I weighed the options, but I could tell even as I started that my mind was made up, and that I was too entranced by her to do anything different. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s do it.”

I summoned my strength and focus as we headed back onto the mats and I felt them flex underneath me, and she told me to get down on my knees and did the same in front of me. She shook out her arms and stretched her neck, and then she closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again.

“Ready?” It was less of a rhetorical question this time, and I nodded, captivated. “Go!”

Her speed was incredible, and she got in quickly and grabbed the back of my neck with one hand, her other shooting up to join it from under my arm. Her knee flew across to my thigh and she pulled me over it, and I struggled to stay upright but she was so forceful and strong. With one big heave she pulled me down and I hit the mat hard, and before I knew it she was on top of me, shoving her chest into my shoulder to hold me in place while I struggled.

She grasped for my wrists and I squirmed beneath her, writhing as I tried to work my way out from under her weight. I slipped out and tried to roll her over but she repositioned quickly and got back to her knees, launching at me and pushing me back down to the mat. She turned and stuck her knee in my stomach, working it down to the joint between my hip and my thigh.

She stuck her chest against me again as she flattened my leg to the mat, and I could smell the thick mustiness of her sweat as her neck pushed closer into me. She snapped her head around to look for my legs and her ponytail brushed me across the face. I dug in my heels and tried to push up against her, but she responded by shifting onto her side and slamming down into me again.

Before I knew it she had seized the moment and sprung on top of me, and she stuck a knee into my bicep, controlling my yanking wrists as she put the other one on the edge of my chest. I lifted my hips desperately, trying to raise her up to the point where I could throw her off, but then all at once I could feel her weight shift forward and she slid her knees up onto my shoulders.

I was pinned, I knew it, knew it even more as she drove my wrists to the mat, but I heaved and strained against her as I tried to rock from side to side and summon the strength to push her off. She knew it too though, and she sighed and relaxed, even releasing my hands before sitting up and brushing a flyaway strand of hair from her forehead while stretching her neck placidly, letting her weight bear down on top of me and feeling me between her legs.

“One…”, she said slowly with her eyes closed, counting in the softest voice she had used this entire time, breathing deliberately before each count. “Two…” I suddenly felt so small beneath her, so beaten, so defeated, and I shrank further still as she opened her eyes and looked down at me. I shook as she stared deep into mine and her tone became dreadful. “Three.”

It was over, supposedly, but for a moment nothing changed. She held me there beneath her piercing gaze, slowly turning her head but keeping her eyes fixed, and something wild seemed to creep into her as I helplessly let it sink in. My eyes flitted around, able to see nothing but her strength and her power, and I felt it surround me as her lips opened again.

“Now you’re mine.”

She stood up and grabbed me by the hair on the top of my head, and I flailed, suddenly helpless, as she yanked and pulled me onto my side. I scrambled to get my legs out of the way and unconsciously pulled them into the fetal position, but she stuck her foot into the small of my back and pushed me flat onto my front.

She let go of my hair and said loudly to put my face on the mat, and as I laid one cheek against it and slipped my hands down to my sides she took a step, and then slowly, agonizingly slowly, I saw and felt her lower her sneakered foot down onto my other. She shifted her weight, bending her knee, and I felt the tread press into me as she mashed my face into the mat.

“Loser,” she whispered softly, but it rang through the entire space. “Put your dick on the mat,” she said, loudly and more forcefully again. “Flatten yourself out beneath me. Hump it. Good boy.”

She stood like that for a moment or two, enjoying her victory and savoring my defeat, and then she stepped back off and told me to get up on my hands and knees. I rose between her legs and she gripped my hair again before sitting down. I felt her weight bear down on me, and she pulled back on my hair, lifting my face to face forward, and then she reached back with her other hand and smacked me on the ass.

“Come on now,” she said. “Take me on a victory lap.” She marched me forward and rode me in a circle around the edge of the mats, squeezing her thighs around me and idly controlling my head, and it was humiliating. She made me go around again, the mats sticking slightly to my knees, but halfway through I collapsed beneath her, and she just laughed and thrusted her hips, grinding herself on my back and pulling back on my hair.

“Alright loser,” she said in a bright, clear voice, as if it wasn’t an insult but a simple statement of fact. “Roll over.” She let go of my hair again, but didn’t get off me or lift herself up. There was something in her attitude that almost dared me not to do as she said, so I struggled and jerked and managed to turn over, and she reseated herself on my stomach. “Put your knees up,” she said, and when I did she leaned back on them and brought her sneakers up one by one to unlace them.

I could sense the release as she yanked on the tongues, and she sighed gently, and then stretched out her legs. One by one she pried them off with her heels against the top of my head, and she sighed again, deeper now, and pulled back on her knees, holding her feet together above me.

“Ah,” she said, flexing and relaxing them and wiggling her toes. “Look up at them loser. Don’t look away.”

I did look up at them. They were big, bigger than I had realized, and her thick tube socks wrapped so tightly around them that they subtly accentuated every inch. Her socks were such a pure and brilliant white, except for a faint discoloration that traced her soles, and I suddenly realized that she was lowering them. “The feet of a winner,” she said as they made their way closer towards me, and as they finally reached my face she flattened them out, pressed them down, and relaxed.

“These are sweaty,” she said, and she let me feel them cover my entire face. “Kiss them.”

I was still, and the whole room was quiet, and I felt their weight on top of me, and then slowly, and humbly, I kissed. She rubbed them around for a bit and made me kiss them again and again, and when she got off me again I thought that was it. I opened my eyes, feeling the traces of her sweat on my cheeks and forehead, and I spread my arms out on the mats and flattened my legs.

I heard the scrape of a chair though, a cheap wire and plastic thing that had been sitting in the corner, and when I lifted my head I saw that she was carrying it in one arm and had a long, fluorescent orange Theraband in her other hand. She sat the chair down at the edge of the mats and snapped her fingers to summon me before sitting down. “Come here.”

“Crawl,” she said as I started to get up, and I let myself back down and did as she said. When I was on my knees in front of her she leaned forward and draped the Theraband around my neck, reaching her hands back to brush off her thighs, and then she grabbed each end and almost grinned as she lifted her knees and stuck her feet back in my face.

“Now,” she said loudly, stifling a laugh as she extended her knees and pushed her legs up and out, the elastic pulling my face firmly back into her soles as she pushed it away. I moaned into them and she talked over me. “Since apparently there’s not much point in training you, maybe from now on you’ll just help me with my exercises!”

She started bending her knees and held the Theraband firmly, and then quickly she pressed them back out again. I let out a little wail that was muffled by her stinking, sweaty socks, and she finally opened up and laughed out loud. She did this again and again, pumping her legs and driving her feet harder into my face, and I tried to keep my balance as her motions rocked me back and forth.

I struggled to breathe and couldn’t help catching little whiffs of them, her sweat socks, mashed as they were into my nose and mouth whenever I tried to gasp for air. They stank so much, the scent of them creeping into my consciousness, and I whined again with the humiliation of it all.

Finally she stopped, releasing the Theraband on one side and letting it fall from my neck, but she didn’t remove her feet from my face. She softly extended her legs one final time, my body helplessly pushed upwards and held by them, and as I rocked back onto my heels she wiggled her toes and said, “Just smell them now. Smell those stinky socks.”

I couldn’t believe it, but something in me was so glad that she wasn’t pummeling my face any more that I leaned back helplessly and sniffed. The sweet, thick, sour smell poured into me and I groaned, and she hummed along with me in response and rubbed her feet around on my face. “Aww,” she said sardonically. “Poor little loser. Losers always have to smell stinky winner feet, so if you don’t wanna do it you’ll have to work a lot harder in here. Kiss them again.”

I kissed and kissed, and then finally she let them slide down my face and into my lap. She lifted one up and pulled off her tall sock, revealing long, elegant toes with a French tip pedicure, and she wiped at them a little before doing the same with the other.

“Bare feet now. Time to lick.” My mouth opened as she held one out, her left one, my chin drooping and quivering, and as she brought her toes to my lips I knew I had no choice. I closed my eyes and licked in long, embarrassing strokes, my tongue and tastebuds absorbing what was left of her sweat, and I pouted as she made me do the same with the other.

“Okay,” she said, and I looked defeatedly back at her, and she squared up on the chair and leaned forward to look at me. “There’s one more thing. Open up!”

I opened my mouth again and she stuck one of her tube socks inside, wadding up the extra and pushing it in with her finger. I sighed through my nose, tasting the sweaty cotton on the exhale, and she got up and led me over to the exercise ball. “Lay down. Rest now.”

I put my head at the base of the ball and she sat down on it above me. I saw the rubber flex under her weight, and she settled in, bouncing a bit, and said, “Okay. We’re just cooling down now, just lay there and take my feet in your face.” She covered me again, her bare soles sticking softly against my skin, and she bounced gently for a moment or two before adding, “I’m gonna do one more exercise for my core before we’re done. Good boy. Just lay there and take it.”

She started shifting around above me, the ball rolling back and forth slightly against the top of my head and her feet rocking forward, back, and side to side on my face. Compared with the Theraband exercise this was almost gentle, and soothing somehow, and I breathed her stink and relaxed, more spent and turned to jelly than I had been in a long, long time.

A couple of minutes went by, and then she opened her legs and put her feet on either side of my head and looked down sweetly. “That’s it for today!” She patted my shoulder. “Good job. You can go ahead and get dressed now.”

She got up from the exercise ball and went and toweled off, doing something on her phone as I slowly got to my feet again and gathered my things and dressed, unsure of what to do with the sock in my mouth. When I was done I slung my gym bag over my shoulder and turned to face her. She stepped in close absently with her eyes still on her phone, holding her other sock in her hand, and when she finally looked at me I opened my mouth.

“Oh no, haha,” she said. “Mm-mnh.” She reached up to my chin and placed her fingers gently underneath, and without her even having to push I closed it obediently. She reached for my waistband and stuffed the other one down in my pants, and said, “I want those back at our next appointment, freshly laundered and folded.”

She turned me around and patted my ass in the direction of the door. “Good work today,” she said brightly. “Thank you.”

I didn’t look back as the door shut behind me, didn’t look at anything as I hurried out of the building, nervous that one of the office workers would see me and make sense of my swollen cheeks. As I reached my car I couldn’t help it, and I gazed up to those arched windows with the sheer curtains, just for a moment, seeing her silhouette looking back down at me, and then I got in and cried all the way home.

Our next appointment is Thursday.


© 2017-2018

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