Hello everybody. I hope you all are doing great! I have yet another tickle fiction for your enjoyment! I look forward to your comments, criticisms and sweet nothings. Thank you for investing your time.
For those of you unfamiliar, Ronda Rousey is an American professional mix martial artist. She is currently the UFC’s bantamweight champion in the women’s division. Currently undefeated in her campaign, her success in the octagon has transpired over to a moderately successful acting career. Most recently, “Furious 7”.
A cool morning breeze whisks through my windbreaker as I pick up the pace of my steady jog. Every breath I take burns my lungs even more than the last one and I simply cannot wait to see the end of this exercise. I can only assume she feels the same way, “Push it Ronda! C’mon baby!” Keeping pace with me, stride for stride is the UFC’s women’s bantamweight champion, Ronda Rousey.
At will she pumps her legs even harder, “Yes coach!” she says through grit teeth.
The parking lot of my gym serves as the finish line. Where we started is where we stop. With one final exertion of energy we sprint towards the end. Physical exhaustion overcomes our quivering legs as we crumble to the floor in fatigue, taking in deep breaths of precious air. I pace a hand on my pupil, “You’re getting faster.” I commend.
“No coach, we’re getting faster.” She corrects.
I nod in agreement, “Take a few minutes to rehydrate, then we’ll hit the mitts okay?”
“Yes coach.”
She gets up and scurries into the gym while I regain my strength and recuperate.
The gym lies dormant with the exception of us two and she’s already wrapping her hands by the time I go inside. I take a quick drink of water and grab my mitts ready to go to work with my champion. She pulls back her long golden hair and ties it together in giant bun atop her head,
“Ready coach.” She nods.
I tighten my mitts and square up my body with hers. Although my frame nearly doubles her she’s not the least bit intimidated and it shows as she begins to pound on my hands. Each punch springs my hand backward and I have to recompose myself each time to catch her fists in my mitts, “That’s it Ronda!” I encourage.
I train my eyes on her. Her focus lies on my hands, watching their every movement, calculating where they’ll be and catching them with forceful blows. Her timing couldn’t be better as combinations of fast fluid punches connect with my mitts, “Good. That’s it Ronda.”
My arms quickly grow weary of the punishment they’re forced to endure. It’s with great relief that I let down my guard the second my timer goes off for the exercise to end. Ronda instinctively pulls away taking a minute to cool down, “How was that coach?”
I nod my head and smile, “Fantastic, I couldn’t ask for more out of you kid.”
Time slips by in hard focused training when it occurs to us her sparring partner has yet to arrive, “Hey coach have you talked to Nadia today?” Ronda inquires.
I shake my head, “Nope, but she knows this is a sparring day. I’ll call her and see what the holdup is.”
I walk to my office and place the call. Ring after ring goes by with no answer on the other end. I tap my fingers on my desk anxiously awaiting Nadia to pick up. At long last she does, “Hello?”
“Nadia, where are you?” I question with concern.
She breathes heavily for a few seconds before responding, “Sorry coach. My alarm must not have gone off this morning. I can be there in five minutes.”
“It’s okay Nadia. Why don’t you take today off?” I suggest.
There’s confusion in her voice as she strings out her next sentence, “Are you sure? I can be there in five.”
“I’m sure.”
“I… I’m sorry; I know how much you’re counting on me.” Nadia says in shame.
“Not me, Ronda.” I correct, “We’ll go on without you, but don’t let this become a habit.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank you for not firing me.”
“Yes of course.” I say nonchalantly rolling my eyes.
We hang up and I proceed back to the main floor where Ronda shadow boxes continually to maintain a warm current in her body. She stops only momentarily to ask me about Nadia, “So where is she?”
I shake my head, “She can’t make it today.”
Beads of sweat fly off her body as she pounds her fists together in frustration, “Fuck man! I hate missing a sparring session.”
Liable to take her frustrations out on me, I cautiously walk over to my pupil, “Calm down. You can still spar.”
“Yeah with who? YOU?!” She smiles sheepishly.
I fold my arms and stare daggers into her, “What? You scared Rowdy?” I banter back.
Her smile disappears, “Hell no.” She says puffing up her chest and flexing her muscles.
“Because it’s okay if you are. I mean I outweigh you by about fifty pounds.”
Never one to shy away from a challenge, she quickly whisks off the sweat of her black sports bra before coming at me with a flurry of punches. I immediately backpedal evasively avoiding her furious fists.
I start to bounce on the balls of my feet floating around the mat like Muhammad Ali in his prime, “Alright, alright.” I say acknowledging my pupil’s aggression.
Ronda bobs her body side to side quickly inching towards me, stalking me and trying to find her range, “why you runnin’?” she mumbles through her mouthpiece.
I dash in her direction and unleash a bevy of punches to her body, “Who says I’m running?” I smile.
She amply blocks my shots picking them off with her elbows and forearms, “Fuck yeah.” She says feeding off my aggression.
In one swift motion I grapple her body and wrestle her to the floor. She screams and kicks frantically on her belly looking for a way out from under me. With one thorough thrust of her hips she knocks me off of her backside and assumes to sprawl on top of me till she’s straddled my hips. My hands instinctively cover my face as she sends flustering fast fists in my direction. Somehow I shimmy out from under her, “Get back here!” she says grabbing my ankle dragging me back.
She wraps her legs around me contorting my body till a sharp pain begins to emanate in my spine. I contemplate submitting and calling it quits when I take notice of her exposed left sole resting right by my hand. As a last resort I reach out and give it a few light strokes with my index finger, “UGH HA-HA!” she bursts. Ronda’s grip loosens just enough to allow me to escape and turn the tables on my pupil pinning her to the ground, “You cheated fucker!” she groans.
I smile back at her futile attempts to wriggle free, “Did I?” I say mischievously, “Or could it be that undefeated UFC champion Ronda Rousey is a bit…ticklish?”
Her arms lay conveniently tucked away under my legs leaving her body vulnerable, “DON’T YOU DARE!” she growls sternly.
I hover my hands just inches above her neck, tantalizing her senses. In vile retribution she takes a snap at my fingers with crude animosity, “No-no!” I reprimand taking a piece of tape from my wrist wraps and placing it over her mouth.
Her eyes grow wide with a fear I’ve never seen before, “MOTHERFUCKER!” her muffled words can still be made out through the tape on her lips.
The second my fingers scratch behind her earlobes she convulses beneath me kicking her legs out like a frog on steroids, “Oh my.” I say in shock.
Her sweaty skin makes it impossible for the tape to remain on and it peels off the moment she bursts into laughter, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! FUCK!” She cries.
I glide my fingers down her slick skin till they’re resting at her underarms, “The mighty Rousey, submitted by tickles.” I forcefully thrust my fingers into her underarms.
She bangs her head against the mat in ecstasy, “AH-HA-HA-HA! FUCK! FUU-CKA-HA-HA!” Her signature smile shines bright and rouses my penis, “GET THE FUCK OFF MEE!” she screams.
I hear the door to the gym slam closed and turn to see Nadia with her jaw dropped as she takes in the scene before her. The second my focus is off her Ronda breaks free of my grasp and knocks me to the floor, “God damn you!” she says flustered and furious.
I feel my cheeks grow rose red with remorse, “Oh Ronda, I was just teasing.” I try to sound sincere.
She shakes her head, “Na fuck that!” she adjusts her sports bra, “Get the fuck out!” She points towards the door.
“Get the fuck out? Seriously? You’re willing to throw away five years of partnership, five years of perfection, just like that?” I snap my fingers.
“I don’t tolerate disrespect James.” She says staring down at the floor.
And so begins my descend as a mixed martial arts coach the minute I walk out the door. Ronda’s voice trails in the background barely a whisper in my ear, “What a creep…” I can picture her look of disgust in my mind. An undefeated career spanning five years, all the hard work and hours put in, broken in mere seconds by a bonehead move on my part.
Months go by in utter seclusion and loneliness. Ronda has since hired a new trainer and is proceeding as scheduled for her next fight, without me.
Rows upon rows of screaming fans fill the area to capacity the night of the fight. I sit as one of them, watching in silence. In a last effort to reconcile my situation with Ronda I get as close to her locker room as possible and ask politely to speak to her. I need only mention my name for everyone on her team to know who I am and what I once meant to her.
I pace back and forth waiting and watching frantically that I might get this one chance to patch things up between us. I watch the door for any sign of her. Minutes feel like hours and my heart begins to sink until I see the door open just a crack. Her new trainer pops his head out. A vague image of Ronda shadowboxing in the background brings a smile to my face, “Yo!” He snaps
I’m broken from my trance, “Um… yes?” I fumble for words.
“She’s agreed to give you five minutes.” He says ushering me in.
I scurry towards the door and slip in, “Thanks.”
Her new trainer, Hardy exits the room telling us he’ll respect our privacy in these intimate talks.
Ronda pulls her headphones off her ears and lays them down on the table before her. Hard rock blasts through them so loud they rattle the table ever so slightly, “Sup coach.” She doesn’t turn to face me and I don’t blame her.
I place my hands on my hips and sigh, “You know Ronda, I never truly got a chance to apologize for my actions before.”
She lowers her head, “Apology accepted, now can you go?” she says sharply.
“Oh Ronda, please don’t shun me away.” I stammer, “What do I have to do to make it up to you?”
She finally turns around. Her face is glistening with pre fight sweat, “You can start by addressing me as Miss Rousey. The name Ronda is only reserved for my family and TRUSTED friends.”
I nod my head, “Understood.”
She cocks her head to the side and looks me dead in the eyes, “Secondly, you can explain to me why the fuck you’d do such a thing, knowing full well I HATE being tickled.”
I shake my head, “Oh, well in the heat of the moment, you know I… I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s not much of an explanation.” She huffs.
I pick my brain searching for anything I can say to find favor with her again and something dawns on me that just might work, “I’ve fallen for you Miss Rousey.”
Her eyes grow wide in surprise and she can barely suppress the smile that sweeps her face, “James.” She whispers. Her smile fades just as quickly as it appeared, “now is hardly the time or place.”
I nod my head in agreement, “I know, I know, you have a big fight in just a couple of minutes.”
“Perhaps after I clobber this bitch, you’d like to join us at the after party?” She asks.
I smile with delight, “I’d love to.”
Her trainer walks back into the room to inform her the co-main event has just concluded and that she’s up next, I smile and wave goodbye to her for now and make my way back up to my seat.
Every light in the arena turns off as a montage of Ronda’s victories is displayed on every screen in the arena and I watch in amazement at how far she’s come, “that’s my girl.” I whisper to myself.
A bright white spotlight follows Ronda as she makes her descend to the octagon with Fallout Boy’s “Centuries” blaring on the PA every step of the way. There’s a scowl on her face as she turns to look at her opponent and the crowd roars in appreciation as the two stare each other down in the center of the ring.
One minute. That’s how long the fight lasts. A lazy attempt at a grapple leaves Ronda’s opponent open to a flying knee to the chin. The blow sends her crashing down and Ronda immediately afterwards to finish her off with a flurry of punches to the face. I taught her the techniques, I taught her the fundamentals, but her relentlessness is something she picked up on her own, and she has it in spades.
The after party is a blend of ruckus people, loud music and scantily clad women dancing erotically on select tables. On our table lays a feast of sizzling hot grilled barbecue cooked to the champion’s liking. She wolfs down forkfuls of meat steadily bingeing on her favorite beer. I myself pack in the protein enjoying the delicious chicken in front of me.
“Great fight tonight kid.” I say though a mouthful of food.
Ronda turns to look at me and smiles, “Thanks. I owe it all to you.”
I shake my head, “Oh no, I can only show you so much. You’re will to win is unlike any I’ve ever seen before.”
“I’m hungry.” She says.
I point to her plate which is almost clear of food, “I can see that.” I chuckle.
She squints her eyes, “Not this dumb-ass. I meant I’m hungry as a fighter.”
“Oh, ha-ha.”
Ronda stands to her feet and straightens out her form fitting platinum cocktail dress, “I’ll be right back.” She shouts over the noise.
I wave her off and watch as she disappears with her bodyguards into a sea of people. Her beverage sits across from me, unguarded, vulnerable and still half full. Reaching in my pocket I pull out a small vile of finely ground powder. I teeter with the idea in my head momentarily before I break the seal and pour the substance into her beer. It dissolves almost instantly and just as quickly, I put the empty vile back in my pocket.
Ronda returns smelling of a delicious fruity perfume which invades my nostrils, “Hey there handsome.” She giggles flirtatiously.
She sits next to me and I instinctively wrap my arm around her shoulder giving it a light squeeze, “Thank you for having me back.” I whisper in her ear.
She reaches for her beer and guzzles what’s left of it, “Oh God I’ve never felt so alive!” she says completely ignoring me, “Wanna dance? Let’s dance!” she insists.
Knowing full well what’s about to transpire I should suggest that she remain seated, but I simply can’t turn down her beautiful blue eyes, “Sure why not.”
The dancefloor is riddled with people grooving to the pulsating beat of the music. Seconds later, Ronda’s doing the same whipping her golden blonde locks around and swinging her hips in time with the music. Doing my best to keep up I start busting out my Saturday Night Fever routine imitating Travolta to the best of my abilities.
Ronda flashes her signature smile chuckling at my antics, “HA-HA! James please! HA-HA! I’m dying here!” she says clutching her sides.
I ignore her and continue with my routine, “What? Can’t handle that I’m a better dancer?” I say twirling in circles.
Her natural competitiveness urges her to outdo me and she begins to mimic my movements, “Oh yeah? Oh yeah? How’d you like me now hu?” she taunts. Standing on the ball of her left foot she twirls three times nearly taking a tumble in the process.
I extend my arms and steady her, “Whoa, easy there Ronda. You okay?” I ask knowing full well the drug is slowly starting to take effect on her motor functions.
She puts her hands on her head and leans into me for support, “I dunno. I just got real fuckin’ dizzy all of a sudden.”
“Perhaps we should go.” I say hastily.
Ronda takes a quick glance at her phone, “It’s only twelve thirty!” she complains.
“I know, but you’re obviously a little tipsy.” I reason.
Seeming a bit confused Ronda looks at me with worried eyes, “But I only drank three beers!”
I rack my brain for a simple yet satisfying answer, “Be that as it may, you hardly ever drink. You’re body’s just not used to it.”
She nods her head in agreement, “Hmm… Perhaps you’re right.”
I pull her closer to me, “C’mon, let’s get you outta here. We wouldn’t want tabloids getting a shot of this now would we?” I scan the crowd looking for the two young men who were supposed to be body guarding her. Wrapped in conversation with two blonde bombshells I forgo alerting them of Ronda’s inebriated state, grab her purse and usher her out of the club.
The cool night air breaths a little life back into us as we step outside, “Hooold me Jaaames…” she says with slurred speech.
I grip her tight and walk us to my white Impala. Swinging open the doors to the back seat I plop her down. The second her head hits the seat it’s lights out for Ronda Rousey.
She’s a vision of loveliness as I lay her down on my bed. Still sleeping peacefully, I slip off her dress leaving her in just a simple set of black satin bra and panties. Pulling her limber arms above her head I secure them to the bed frame with a pair of stainless steel handcuffs. I position her thick strong legs together and using similar restraints chain them to the foot of the bed. I keep her glossy black heels on. I want to see the distress in her face as I take them off nice and slow .Her moans and stirring let me know she’s coming out of unconsciousness and waking up.
My phone rings, “Hello? Oh yes, she’s here. You’re almost here? Excellent.” I can’t help but smile mischievously as I watch every part of my plan begin to come together in one giant weave of deceit and deception.
Lightly tapping her on the cheek I lean in and whisper erotically in her ear, “Wake up Miss Rousey.”
She groans like a child who’d rather sleep in than go to school, “Five more minutes.”
I give her a gentle shake, “Come on, it’s time to get up.”
Her eyes flutter open and a smile creeps over her face as her eyes lock with mine. She’s all grins and snickers as she comes out of twilight. It’s only when she comes to the realization she’s restrained does her smile fade, replaced with a look of concern Ronda furiously stares daggers at me, “James!? What’s the meaning of this?”
I kneel to her level and try to stroke her hair, but she jerks viciously away, and is having none of my compassion, “Ronda, you’re a master in the octagon, always a step or two ahead of your opponent. Unfortunately for you, we’re not in the octagon.”
Her body seems tense as I casually run my finger down her forearm, “James what the fuck? I trusted you. How the hell did I…” Taking delight in her trying to piece together her own kidnapping I hang back and watch her, “You drugged me! You spiked my drink you son of a bitch!”
I sit at her side, “Nothing gets past you does it detective?”
The bedroom door swings open and the two blonde bombshells from the club shuffle in gleaming with joy, “Hey James!” they say in unison.
I stand to greet them, “Hello ladies.” I pull from my pocket a wad of money and hand it to one of the girls, “Did her bodyguards give you any trouble?”
They smile sheepishly as they split and count their cash, “Nope. We distracted them just like you asked us to.” one of them says.
I rub my hands together, “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Rousey and I would like to be alone.”
They both wave in her direction as they exit the room, “Bye Miss Rousey!” they giggle.
I close and lock the door, “It’s only us now.” I say softly.
I watch her watching me, following my every step with her eyes, “James, I don’t know what kind of sick twisted game you’re playing here, but it’s not funny.” She says with a low grumble.
“Funny? That’s an interesting word.” I smile, kneeling at her feet.
Anger bubbles underneath her skin as she yanks at her restraints testing their stability, “Don’t worry, they’ll hold you. Even with all your muscles, you aren’t going to break them.” I reassure.
“I don’t know what you want James, but if it’s ransom I’ll gladly pay any price. Just let me go.” She says, flashing a look of desperation.
I rub my chin, “Any price you say?” I comment with intrigue.
She nods her head frantically, “Yes! ANYTHING!” She cries.
“Well there is one thing.” I say slipping off her shoes.
She flexes her creamy white toes inadvertently tantalizing me beyond my wildest passions, “W-what’d you do that for?” her voice cracks.
“You’ll see.” I grin, tossing her shoes aside, “Now, like I was saying.”
Ronda lifts her head, “What’s this one thing?” she motions with her hands.
Running a single finger up her arch I tease her delicate skin, “I didn’t quite get my fill of tickling you, the last time we were together.”
Ronda instinctively twitches away to the limits of her restraints, “OH FUCK THAT!” She bursts.
I raise my brow, “Ah, but you said ANY price did you not?” I reaffirm.
She shakes her head wildly refuting her own words, “NO! NO! Anything, but tickling! Why can’t you just demand MONEY like a normal human being?!!”
“Because my dear, your laughter is far more precious to me than anything money could buy. And trust me, this is a priceless experience.”
I watch happily as she goes into a state of distress so uncharacteristic it sees her eyes watering and her lower lip begin to quiver, “GOD DAMMIT JAMES!” She exclaims.
I run a single finger up and down her arch, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I chuckle.
Ronda scrunches her soles in an effort to suppress the sensations, “AH- NOOO! JAA-HEY-HEY-MES!” She screams trying to stifle her laughter.
I shake my head, “Don’t try to fight it. It’s useless to resist.” I say adding the rest of my fingers to the equation, “I don’t care how many people you broke in the octagon, here is where I break you.”
Her face lights up in involuntary delight as my frivolous fingers frolic across her silky smooth soles, “OH-WHA-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” Her agonizing desperation echoes throughout the room.
I smile happily at the sound of her laughter, “Sweet music to my ears.” I say circling the balls of her feet with my index fingers.
Her handcuffs clack noisily against the bedframe as she violently flails her arms about, “FUCK! HA-HA-HA! JAMES I SWEAR! OH-HOO-HOO WHA-HA-HA-HA!”
Trying desperately to protect herself she scrunches her feet down wrinkling her soles, “Don’t try to hide those pretty little feet!” I reprimand peeling back her toes. Completely immobile in my firm grip her feet sit more vulnerable than ever and I exploit her extended arches to no end.
Her body bounces several inches off the bed spastically to the sensations emanating from her feet, “WHOO-HOO-HOO! AH FUUCK HA-HA-HA! YOU BASTARD-AH-HA-HA-HA!” She cries ecstatically.
“Still think this isn’t funny Ronda?” I tease, scraping her big toes with my finger nail.
“NOT THE TOES!” She screeches so loud I can feel my ears pop.
“Yes the toes?” I banter back drilling my fingers through the gaps between her toes.
Ronda’s wavy blonde hair flies everywhere as she whips her head against the mattress and I can’t help but laugh alongside her at her crazy antics and her futile attempts to break free.
After five minutes of continuous torture, I let go of her feet and allow her to breathe, “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as me.” I say standing to my feet.
Ronda’s involuntary laughter subsides and her smile quickly turns to a grimace, “Fuck you James.” she says through deep breaths.
“That’s not the response I was hoping for.” I frown gliding my hand up her leg, rousing every microscopic hair on her skin.
Propping her head as much as she can she locks eyes with me, “James, don’t.” she says sternly raising her brow, “You still have a chance to make this right. Just let me go.”
“What was that?” I say tenderly massaging her fleshy thighs with my hands.
“I said… YOOOOU-HOO-HOO! AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! FUCK HA-HA-HA!” she screams unable to maintain her composure under the viciousness of my attacks.
Like a baker kneading a mound of dough I give her thighs ascending squeezes pressing her warm supple flesh with a firm grip, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I can’t hear you over all this laughter.” I say teasingly.
Every muscle in her body flexes as she violently thrashes about the bed, “AGH-HA-HA-HA! OH FUCK MEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” She yelps bashing her head against the pillow.
I delve deeper into her thighs pressing my fingers against the bone driving her to insanity, “No wonder you’re nickname is rowdy.” I joke.
Gliding my fingers up her crotch I take notice of how swollen her vagina’s become, “You say you aren’t enjoying things, but your body says otherwise Miss Rousey.” I remark lightly tracing the indent of the crease in her panties.
She breathes heavily desperately trying to regain her bearings before the next onslaught, “James please… no more.” She whispers softly.
The distraught look on her face brings a smile on mine and her words are only fuel to the ever burning fire that nestles within me, “Poor, poor Miss Rousey. Does it feel strange? Begging for mercy?”
Heeding none of her pleas I thrust my thumbs at her hips and massage them deep into her tender flesh in circular motion. She pulls reflexively away from my fingers, but not far enough to be affective, “UGH-HA-HA-HA! I CAN’T MOOOVE AH-HA-HA-HA!”
“That’s the idea Miss Rousey.” I snicker, “Like your dreaded arm bar submission, there is no escape.” Gliding my hands across her lower abdominals I knead her stomach wiggling my fingers deep into her core.
She shimmies left to right in accordance with my attacks desperately seeking shelter from my fingers, “OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! LET ME GO-HO-HO! AGH-HA-HA-HA! WHADYA WANT FROM MEEE-HEE-HEE!?”
I find it impossible not to giggle at her antics, “I want you to laugh of course.”
“GOD DAMMIT JAMES!”
Pulling away from her torso I rest my hands on my lap and watch as her body expands and contracts shell shocked by the ordeal and it’s undertaking, “Listen you son of a bitch…” She huffs.
“NO YOU LISTEN!” I shout cutting her off, “You’d be wise to watch that sharp tongue of yours.”
“Don’t you dare lay another hand on me!” she barks.
“Okay.” I smile deceitfully.
A look of concern casts over her face as I press my mouth to her midsection, “Wh-what are you doing?” she inquires.
“You told me not to lay a finger on you, so…” I lick my lips, “I’ll just tickle you with my mouth.”
“JAMES NOOO!” she cries in angst.
Pressing my lips against her soft skin I lightly preen every inch of her midriff. The warmth of her body sends tingles down my spine. I can only imagine it’s but a fraction of the sensations in comparison to what’s coursing through her body.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO! JA-HEY-HEY-AMES PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” she giggles swinging her hips.
Her salty skin tingles the tip of my tongue as I trace the outlines of her abs weaving my way to her succulent bellybutton.
I make her stand on the edge of suspense as I circle her navel with my tongue, “OOH YOU BASTARD! OOH YOU BASTARD!” she screams with a combination of anger and desperation.
Flicking my tongue I delve deep into her bellybutton. Feeling her flesh inside my mouth I’m met with a rousing sensation that makes my skin crawl.
Her body trembles from head to toe as I carelessly lick her like a lollipop, “AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! OH GOD DA-HA-HA-HA! MMM… THAT’S SO GROSS!”
I glide my tongue up her body causing goosebumps to form, “You’re so delicious Miss Rousey.” I comment.
“OH YOU’RE SICK!” She barks scrunching her face in disgust, “JUST WAIT TILL I GET OUTTA HERE!”
Resting my chin on her ribs I stare up at her and our eyes lock for but a moment, “Like that’s going to happen.” I roll my eyes.
She’s about to retort when I rub my chin against her ribs turning her furious demeanor into childish laughter, “WHOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! UGH HA-HA-HA! WHAT THE FUUUCK!?”
“You were saying?” I tease, barely audible over her bellowing.
Thrusting her hips reflexively she lets out a murderous cry of anguish, “DAMMIT JAY-HEY-HEY-MES! I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL YOOO-HOO-HOO!”
I lift my head to take in her adorable facial expressions, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” I whisper erotically.
She tugs at her wrists violently till her hands turn a shade of purple stopping her persistence. She lets out a frustrated huff that blows a lock of her wavy blonde hair off her face. Her breaths are long and deep as I allow her to recuperate, “I want to stroke your hair, but I’m afraid you’ll try to bite me.” I chuckle.
“You’ve got a lot more than that coming as soon as my people find me, fuckin’ bastard!” She says with piercing eyes.
“You are persistent aren’t you? Fortunately I have a remedy for that.” I say pulling from my pocket a travel sized bottle of baby oil.
Ronda flashes me a confused look, “W-what?” she shakes her head.
Pouring some on my hands I begin to generously apply coats of the oil on her underarms.
“OH GOD NOOO!” she screams coming to the realization of my intent.
I lather her arms till they’re glistening, “You thought you were ticklish before?” I raise a brow.
“JAMES NO! YOU, YOU CAN’T! JAMES PLEASE!” She begs, shaking her head in frantic disposition.
I softly stroke her arm with a single finger tracing her muscles, “Hmm… suddenly you’re not so tough.”
Her body jerks at the lightest touch and she closes her eyes tightly in anticipation. Every joint in her body tenses up and she’s still as a statue as I rest my hands at her tender hollows, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she mumbles under her breath.
I pause momentarily savoring her helplessness and the look of fear that’s overcome her face before I sink my thumbs deep into her armpits.
Every muscle in her arms flex as she flaps them in involuntary excitement, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! WHOO-HOO-HOO! OH GOD DA-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEEASE STOP!”
“What’s the matter Miss Rousey? Does that tickle?” I taunt, scribbling my nails over her satin smooth skin.
“JAMES PLEASE! JAY-HEY-HEY-MES-SA-HA-HA-HA! SOMEBODY HELP-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
Scurrying my fingers up and down her arms I exploit every inch of her delectable skin till she’s choking up and coughing profusely, “Deep breaths, deep breaths.” I instruct.
“Can’t… breathe…” she gasps.
I rub my chin inquisitively, “Hmm… perhaps your bra is constricting you. Let me loosen it for you.” I say sounding as professional as possible.
Immediately opposed to the idea she presses her back to the mattress to protect the hook and closure, “No, no, no!” she persists.
“Oh, you wanna play hardball?” I smile, “I have a solution for that too.” I say poking her bellybutton. An inadvertent spaz jolts her body off the bed allowing me to slip underneath her and unhook her bra, “There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Now you can breathe.” I say tossing the undergarment to the floor.
Ronda’s face turns crimson red with embarrassment as her bare breasts are exposed. She utters no words, but an undoubted sense of fuming anger is boiling up inside her.
Untouched by the sun her perky breasts are a ghastly hue of white in comparison to the rest of her. Drizzling baby oil I fondle them till every inch of them is slick and glossy. I watch her angry face melt into a smile and the sound of stifled laughter fill the air as my fingers dance across her breasts, “It’s okay to laugh.” I tease.
As if given permission she whips her head back and lets out a loud blast of laughter, “AH-HA-HA-HA! WHOO-HOO-HOO! UGH, UGH AH-HA-HA-HA! OH YOU SUCK!”
Her breasts jiggle as I massage my fingers into her tender tissue. To get a better handle on things I straddle her hips pinning her to the bed, “How about these nipples?” I inquire circling her areolas with my fingertips.
Wide eyed she follows my fingers as they creep closer to her nipples, “NOT MY NIPS! NOT MY NIPS!” she protests.
Her nipples stand at attention as I graze them lightly with my fingernails. A vicious response of violent thrashing ensues nearly throwing me off in the process, “OH FUUUCK KA-HA-HA-HA! THIS IS TORTURE! OW-WAH-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEASE!” she begs through a wide grin.
I tuck my hands under her breasts and titillate the delicate untouched flesh that resides beneath them. To this she contorts her face like one would when tasting a bitter fruit, “I find this spot to be a jackpot amongst women. Wouldn’t you agree?” I banter.
Unable to abstain from laughing she simply bashes her head against the pillow in a combination of physical torment and mental anguish, “WHA-HA-HA-HA!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I smile.
I pull my hands from under and rest them on her chest to feel her beating heart. It thumps with heightened exuberance a result of the tremendous strain being put on by the tickling. A gradual trickle of sweat rolls down Ronda’s forehead as she gulps down lungful after lungful of precious air.
“My dear Miss Rousey, you look exhausted. You must be thirsty.” I say revealing a bottle of water.
She opens just one eye and when realizing I indeed am offering her nourishment nods her head in acceptance and opens her mouth.
I carefully put the bottle to her lips and slowly allow the liquid to pour into her mouth. She chugs half the bottle before nearly choking, “Feel better?” I ask as she opens her eyes.
She nods sinking her head back into the pillow. With her walls of anger seemingly destroyed and her spirit broken down I finally find it safe to reach out and stroke her strands of hair. As soft as the down of a baby duckling my fingers whisk through her scalp with ease. Seemingly appreciative, the first genuine smile of the night crawls on her face. It’s a tender moment and I almost regret having mixed sleep serum into the water she’d just consumed. Never the less the clock was ticking and in a matter of minutes Ronda Rousey would be in dreamland again.
I continue to stroke her hair as she gradually withers into unconsciousness, “They say all good things must come to an end. It’s unfortunate, but it seems this is the end of our little rendezvous.” I’m tempted to laugh maniacally at my own eloquence.
Ronda’s eyes flutter with heaviness as she struggles aimlessly to fight the sleepy sensations eclipsing her body, “What is happening to me?” Her voice, barely above a whisper trails into the night.
Caught in perpetual twilight she’s no longer a threat to me and I graciously unlatch her ankles and wrists. Free of her bonds she instinctively attempts to escape. I watch in amusement as she sprawls about the bed in bemusement until her feeble body clumsily crumples to the floor, unconscious. “Sweet dreams Miss Rousey.” I snicker leaning over her.
In a tasteful manner I re-clothe her wrapping her bra back around her breasts and slipping her dress back on. Swinging her over my shoulder I carry her to my car.
It’s sheer convenience that her smartphone has a “take me home” feature which enables inebriated users to give their designated drivers a way of getting them home. At the press of a button an illustrated map illuminates the screen. As if that weren’t enough a choppy female voice begins to tell me the way. Casually glancing towards the backseat I take notice that Ronda hasn’t stirred a bit meaning I still had time to get her home. Just the same I didn’t want her waking up anywhere else but in her own home, in her own bed.
Uncharacteristic of the city streets to be as empty as they were I glance at my phone and come to the realization of just how late it is. The destination marker indicates I’m only half a mile from her home, when flashing lights illuminate behind me, “Cops.” I whisper to myself. Making a mad dash would only allude to suspicion so I pull over and cross my fingers, hoping the officer wouldn’t notice the UFC’s cash cow knocked out cold in the backseat.
I roll down my window as the officer approaches, “Good evening sir.” I say with a smile.
He shines a blinding light in my face before responding, “Evenin’.” He says, chewing a wad of gum, “You um, know why I pulled you over sir?”
I scratch my head, “Um, no sir.” I say befuddled.
Finally turning off his flashlight a middle aged man with grey streaks of hair comes into focus, “Well see, you were going sixty-five in a forty-five.”
I nod my head in concurrence, “Sorry about that.”
“I’m going to need to see your license and registration please.”
I never learn to keep those documents handy and it’s a good minute or so before I find them in my glove compartment, “So where you headed to in such a hurry?” He asks taking the papers from my hands.
My composure wears thin with every fleeting moment, and I hope to God it’s not visible, “Home.”
He shines the light in my face again, “You, haven’t been drinking have you?”
“No sir.” I shake my head wiping my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Well, we’re really only out here looking for REAL lawbreakers, and since you clearly don’t fit that description I’m letting you off with a warning.” He says sternly returning me my papers.
Just as he’s about to walk away Ronda lets out a low groan which makes him perk up his ears, “Yes sir?” I ask treading carefully with my tone.
“Did you hear that?” He asks curiously.
I pick at my brain for a quick witty answer, “Oh, that’s my stomach. Did I mention I was hungry?”
“Ooo, then I won’t keep you.” He says with a smile.
Ronda’s home isn’t the mansion I envisioned. Having only ever trained her at the gym I’d never seen it. White panels overlay a modest two story house and an American flag hangs from the porch. With the entire neighborhood seemingly sequestered in their homes for the night sneaking her in is a breeze.
The inside of her house is quite a contrast to the well-kept outside. Articles of clothing, gym equipment and surf gear lay scattered about the room. Never having been the most organized woman in the world, it comes as no surprise to me.
We’re up the fleet of stairs when I hear her begin to moan again. I frantically bust open every door searching for the master’s quarters. At long last I come to a room covered in posters of her, “Self-obsessed much?” I think to myself. I gently set her down on a king sized mattress draped in red velvet. I linger for but a moment to watch her rest peacefully. I imagine in the morning she’ll be fuming mad with vengeance on her mind. As I turn to leave something catches my eye. On her mantle under a glass case rests her sparkling gold championship belt, “I helped you get that.” I say to her. Knowing there’d be no reconciliation after tonight’s escapade I make peace with myself right then and there and scurry out of her house before she wakes.
I’m awoken the next morning, not by blinding sunlight, but by soft pitters of rain tapping at my windowpane. I lay awake enjoying the soothing sound and recalling the events of the previous night. My cell phone goes off interrupting my thoughts and on a quest to find the beeping apparatus. Putting the phone to my ear I’m greeted with an all too familiar voice, one I thought I’d never hear again, “Hey James.”
“Hello Miss Rousey.” I say coolly.
For those of you unfamiliar, Ronda Rousey is an American professional mix martial artist. She is currently the UFC’s bantamweight champion in the women’s division. Currently undefeated in her campaign, her success in the octagon has transpired over to a moderately successful acting career. Most recently, “Furious 7”.
“Taming the Rowdy One”
A cool morning breeze whisks through my windbreaker as I pick up the pace of my steady jog. Every breath I take burns my lungs even more than the last one and I simply cannot wait to see the end of this exercise. I can only assume she feels the same way, “Push it Ronda! C’mon baby!” Keeping pace with me, stride for stride is the UFC’s women’s bantamweight champion, Ronda Rousey.
At will she pumps her legs even harder, “Yes coach!” she says through grit teeth.
The parking lot of my gym serves as the finish line. Where we started is where we stop. With one final exertion of energy we sprint towards the end. Physical exhaustion overcomes our quivering legs as we crumble to the floor in fatigue, taking in deep breaths of precious air. I pace a hand on my pupil, “You’re getting faster.” I commend.
“No coach, we’re getting faster.” She corrects.
I nod in agreement, “Take a few minutes to rehydrate, then we’ll hit the mitts okay?”
“Yes coach.”
She gets up and scurries into the gym while I regain my strength and recuperate.
The gym lies dormant with the exception of us two and she’s already wrapping her hands by the time I go inside. I take a quick drink of water and grab my mitts ready to go to work with my champion. She pulls back her long golden hair and ties it together in giant bun atop her head,
“Ready coach.” She nods.
I tighten my mitts and square up my body with hers. Although my frame nearly doubles her she’s not the least bit intimidated and it shows as she begins to pound on my hands. Each punch springs my hand backward and I have to recompose myself each time to catch her fists in my mitts, “That’s it Ronda!” I encourage.
I train my eyes on her. Her focus lies on my hands, watching their every movement, calculating where they’ll be and catching them with forceful blows. Her timing couldn’t be better as combinations of fast fluid punches connect with my mitts, “Good. That’s it Ronda.”
My arms quickly grow weary of the punishment they’re forced to endure. It’s with great relief that I let down my guard the second my timer goes off for the exercise to end. Ronda instinctively pulls away taking a minute to cool down, “How was that coach?”
I nod my head and smile, “Fantastic, I couldn’t ask for more out of you kid.”
Time slips by in hard focused training when it occurs to us her sparring partner has yet to arrive, “Hey coach have you talked to Nadia today?” Ronda inquires.
I shake my head, “Nope, but she knows this is a sparring day. I’ll call her and see what the holdup is.”
I walk to my office and place the call. Ring after ring goes by with no answer on the other end. I tap my fingers on my desk anxiously awaiting Nadia to pick up. At long last she does, “Hello?”
“Nadia, where are you?” I question with concern.
She breathes heavily for a few seconds before responding, “Sorry coach. My alarm must not have gone off this morning. I can be there in five minutes.”
“It’s okay Nadia. Why don’t you take today off?” I suggest.
There’s confusion in her voice as she strings out her next sentence, “Are you sure? I can be there in five.”
“I’m sure.”
“I… I’m sorry; I know how much you’re counting on me.” Nadia says in shame.
“Not me, Ronda.” I correct, “We’ll go on without you, but don’t let this become a habit.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, “Thank you for not firing me.”
“Yes of course.” I say nonchalantly rolling my eyes.
We hang up and I proceed back to the main floor where Ronda shadow boxes continually to maintain a warm current in her body. She stops only momentarily to ask me about Nadia, “So where is she?”
I shake my head, “She can’t make it today.”
Beads of sweat fly off her body as she pounds her fists together in frustration, “Fuck man! I hate missing a sparring session.”
Liable to take her frustrations out on me, I cautiously walk over to my pupil, “Calm down. You can still spar.”
“Yeah with who? YOU?!” She smiles sheepishly.
I fold my arms and stare daggers into her, “What? You scared Rowdy?” I banter back.
Her smile disappears, “Hell no.” She says puffing up her chest and flexing her muscles.
“Because it’s okay if you are. I mean I outweigh you by about fifty pounds.”
Never one to shy away from a challenge, she quickly whisks off the sweat of her black sports bra before coming at me with a flurry of punches. I immediately backpedal evasively avoiding her furious fists.
I start to bounce on the balls of my feet floating around the mat like Muhammad Ali in his prime, “Alright, alright.” I say acknowledging my pupil’s aggression.
Ronda bobs her body side to side quickly inching towards me, stalking me and trying to find her range, “why you runnin’?” she mumbles through her mouthpiece.
I dash in her direction and unleash a bevy of punches to her body, “Who says I’m running?” I smile.
She amply blocks my shots picking them off with her elbows and forearms, “Fuck yeah.” She says feeding off my aggression.
In one swift motion I grapple her body and wrestle her to the floor. She screams and kicks frantically on her belly looking for a way out from under me. With one thorough thrust of her hips she knocks me off of her backside and assumes to sprawl on top of me till she’s straddled my hips. My hands instinctively cover my face as she sends flustering fast fists in my direction. Somehow I shimmy out from under her, “Get back here!” she says grabbing my ankle dragging me back.
She wraps her legs around me contorting my body till a sharp pain begins to emanate in my spine. I contemplate submitting and calling it quits when I take notice of her exposed left sole resting right by my hand. As a last resort I reach out and give it a few light strokes with my index finger, “UGH HA-HA!” she bursts. Ronda’s grip loosens just enough to allow me to escape and turn the tables on my pupil pinning her to the ground, “You cheated fucker!” she groans.
I smile back at her futile attempts to wriggle free, “Did I?” I say mischievously, “Or could it be that undefeated UFC champion Ronda Rousey is a bit…ticklish?”
Her arms lay conveniently tucked away under my legs leaving her body vulnerable, “DON’T YOU DARE!” she growls sternly.
I hover my hands just inches above her neck, tantalizing her senses. In vile retribution she takes a snap at my fingers with crude animosity, “No-no!” I reprimand taking a piece of tape from my wrist wraps and placing it over her mouth.
Her eyes grow wide with a fear I’ve never seen before, “MOTHERFUCKER!” her muffled words can still be made out through the tape on her lips.
The second my fingers scratch behind her earlobes she convulses beneath me kicking her legs out like a frog on steroids, “Oh my.” I say in shock.
Her sweaty skin makes it impossible for the tape to remain on and it peels off the moment she bursts into laughter, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! FUCK!” She cries.
I glide my fingers down her slick skin till they’re resting at her underarms, “The mighty Rousey, submitted by tickles.” I forcefully thrust my fingers into her underarms.
She bangs her head against the mat in ecstasy, “AH-HA-HA-HA! FUCK! FUU-CKA-HA-HA!” Her signature smile shines bright and rouses my penis, “GET THE FUCK OFF MEE!” she screams.
I hear the door to the gym slam closed and turn to see Nadia with her jaw dropped as she takes in the scene before her. The second my focus is off her Ronda breaks free of my grasp and knocks me to the floor, “God damn you!” she says flustered and furious.
I feel my cheeks grow rose red with remorse, “Oh Ronda, I was just teasing.” I try to sound sincere.
She shakes her head, “Na fuck that!” she adjusts her sports bra, “Get the fuck out!” She points towards the door.
“Get the fuck out? Seriously? You’re willing to throw away five years of partnership, five years of perfection, just like that?” I snap my fingers.
“I don’t tolerate disrespect James.” She says staring down at the floor.
And so begins my descend as a mixed martial arts coach the minute I walk out the door. Ronda’s voice trails in the background barely a whisper in my ear, “What a creep…” I can picture her look of disgust in my mind. An undefeated career spanning five years, all the hard work and hours put in, broken in mere seconds by a bonehead move on my part.
***
Months go by in utter seclusion and loneliness. Ronda has since hired a new trainer and is proceeding as scheduled for her next fight, without me.
Rows upon rows of screaming fans fill the area to capacity the night of the fight. I sit as one of them, watching in silence. In a last effort to reconcile my situation with Ronda I get as close to her locker room as possible and ask politely to speak to her. I need only mention my name for everyone on her team to know who I am and what I once meant to her.
I pace back and forth waiting and watching frantically that I might get this one chance to patch things up between us. I watch the door for any sign of her. Minutes feel like hours and my heart begins to sink until I see the door open just a crack. Her new trainer pops his head out. A vague image of Ronda shadowboxing in the background brings a smile to my face, “Yo!” He snaps
I’m broken from my trance, “Um… yes?” I fumble for words.
“She’s agreed to give you five minutes.” He says ushering me in.
I scurry towards the door and slip in, “Thanks.”
Her new trainer, Hardy exits the room telling us he’ll respect our privacy in these intimate talks.
Ronda pulls her headphones off her ears and lays them down on the table before her. Hard rock blasts through them so loud they rattle the table ever so slightly, “Sup coach.” She doesn’t turn to face me and I don’t blame her.
I place my hands on my hips and sigh, “You know Ronda, I never truly got a chance to apologize for my actions before.”
She lowers her head, “Apology accepted, now can you go?” she says sharply.
“Oh Ronda, please don’t shun me away.” I stammer, “What do I have to do to make it up to you?”
She finally turns around. Her face is glistening with pre fight sweat, “You can start by addressing me as Miss Rousey. The name Ronda is only reserved for my family and TRUSTED friends.”
I nod my head, “Understood.”
She cocks her head to the side and looks me dead in the eyes, “Secondly, you can explain to me why the fuck you’d do such a thing, knowing full well I HATE being tickled.”
I shake my head, “Oh, well in the heat of the moment, you know I… I couldn’t help myself.”
“That’s not much of an explanation.” She huffs.
I pick my brain searching for anything I can say to find favor with her again and something dawns on me that just might work, “I’ve fallen for you Miss Rousey.”
Her eyes grow wide in surprise and she can barely suppress the smile that sweeps her face, “James.” She whispers. Her smile fades just as quickly as it appeared, “now is hardly the time or place.”
I nod my head in agreement, “I know, I know, you have a big fight in just a couple of minutes.”
“Perhaps after I clobber this bitch, you’d like to join us at the after party?” She asks.
I smile with delight, “I’d love to.”
Her trainer walks back into the room to inform her the co-main event has just concluded and that she’s up next, I smile and wave goodbye to her for now and make my way back up to my seat.
Every light in the arena turns off as a montage of Ronda’s victories is displayed on every screen in the arena and I watch in amazement at how far she’s come, “that’s my girl.” I whisper to myself.
A bright white spotlight follows Ronda as she makes her descend to the octagon with Fallout Boy’s “Centuries” blaring on the PA every step of the way. There’s a scowl on her face as she turns to look at her opponent and the crowd roars in appreciation as the two stare each other down in the center of the ring.
One minute. That’s how long the fight lasts. A lazy attempt at a grapple leaves Ronda’s opponent open to a flying knee to the chin. The blow sends her crashing down and Ronda immediately afterwards to finish her off with a flurry of punches to the face. I taught her the techniques, I taught her the fundamentals, but her relentlessness is something she picked up on her own, and she has it in spades.
***
The after party is a blend of ruckus people, loud music and scantily clad women dancing erotically on select tables. On our table lays a feast of sizzling hot grilled barbecue cooked to the champion’s liking. She wolfs down forkfuls of meat steadily bingeing on her favorite beer. I myself pack in the protein enjoying the delicious chicken in front of me.
“Great fight tonight kid.” I say though a mouthful of food.
Ronda turns to look at me and smiles, “Thanks. I owe it all to you.”
I shake my head, “Oh no, I can only show you so much. You’re will to win is unlike any I’ve ever seen before.”
“I’m hungry.” She says.
I point to her plate which is almost clear of food, “I can see that.” I chuckle.
She squints her eyes, “Not this dumb-ass. I meant I’m hungry as a fighter.”
“Oh, ha-ha.”
Ronda stands to her feet and straightens out her form fitting platinum cocktail dress, “I’ll be right back.” She shouts over the noise.
I wave her off and watch as she disappears with her bodyguards into a sea of people. Her beverage sits across from me, unguarded, vulnerable and still half full. Reaching in my pocket I pull out a small vile of finely ground powder. I teeter with the idea in my head momentarily before I break the seal and pour the substance into her beer. It dissolves almost instantly and just as quickly, I put the empty vile back in my pocket.
Ronda returns smelling of a delicious fruity perfume which invades my nostrils, “Hey there handsome.” She giggles flirtatiously.
She sits next to me and I instinctively wrap my arm around her shoulder giving it a light squeeze, “Thank you for having me back.” I whisper in her ear.
She reaches for her beer and guzzles what’s left of it, “Oh God I’ve never felt so alive!” she says completely ignoring me, “Wanna dance? Let’s dance!” she insists.
Knowing full well what’s about to transpire I should suggest that she remain seated, but I simply can’t turn down her beautiful blue eyes, “Sure why not.”
The dancefloor is riddled with people grooving to the pulsating beat of the music. Seconds later, Ronda’s doing the same whipping her golden blonde locks around and swinging her hips in time with the music. Doing my best to keep up I start busting out my Saturday Night Fever routine imitating Travolta to the best of my abilities.
Ronda flashes her signature smile chuckling at my antics, “HA-HA! James please! HA-HA! I’m dying here!” she says clutching her sides.
I ignore her and continue with my routine, “What? Can’t handle that I’m a better dancer?” I say twirling in circles.
Her natural competitiveness urges her to outdo me and she begins to mimic my movements, “Oh yeah? Oh yeah? How’d you like me now hu?” she taunts. Standing on the ball of her left foot she twirls three times nearly taking a tumble in the process.
I extend my arms and steady her, “Whoa, easy there Ronda. You okay?” I ask knowing full well the drug is slowly starting to take effect on her motor functions.
She puts her hands on her head and leans into me for support, “I dunno. I just got real fuckin’ dizzy all of a sudden.”
“Perhaps we should go.” I say hastily.
Ronda takes a quick glance at her phone, “It’s only twelve thirty!” she complains.
“I know, but you’re obviously a little tipsy.” I reason.
Seeming a bit confused Ronda looks at me with worried eyes, “But I only drank three beers!”
I rack my brain for a simple yet satisfying answer, “Be that as it may, you hardly ever drink. You’re body’s just not used to it.”
She nods her head in agreement, “Hmm… Perhaps you’re right.”
I pull her closer to me, “C’mon, let’s get you outta here. We wouldn’t want tabloids getting a shot of this now would we?” I scan the crowd looking for the two young men who were supposed to be body guarding her. Wrapped in conversation with two blonde bombshells I forgo alerting them of Ronda’s inebriated state, grab her purse and usher her out of the club.
The cool night air breaths a little life back into us as we step outside, “Hooold me Jaaames…” she says with slurred speech.
I grip her tight and walk us to my white Impala. Swinging open the doors to the back seat I plop her down. The second her head hits the seat it’s lights out for Ronda Rousey.
***
She’s a vision of loveliness as I lay her down on my bed. Still sleeping peacefully, I slip off her dress leaving her in just a simple set of black satin bra and panties. Pulling her limber arms above her head I secure them to the bed frame with a pair of stainless steel handcuffs. I position her thick strong legs together and using similar restraints chain them to the foot of the bed. I keep her glossy black heels on. I want to see the distress in her face as I take them off nice and slow .Her moans and stirring let me know she’s coming out of unconsciousness and waking up.
My phone rings, “Hello? Oh yes, she’s here. You’re almost here? Excellent.” I can’t help but smile mischievously as I watch every part of my plan begin to come together in one giant weave of deceit and deception.
Lightly tapping her on the cheek I lean in and whisper erotically in her ear, “Wake up Miss Rousey.”
She groans like a child who’d rather sleep in than go to school, “Five more minutes.”
I give her a gentle shake, “Come on, it’s time to get up.”
Her eyes flutter open and a smile creeps over her face as her eyes lock with mine. She’s all grins and snickers as she comes out of twilight. It’s only when she comes to the realization she’s restrained does her smile fade, replaced with a look of concern Ronda furiously stares daggers at me, “James!? What’s the meaning of this?”
I kneel to her level and try to stroke her hair, but she jerks viciously away, and is having none of my compassion, “Ronda, you’re a master in the octagon, always a step or two ahead of your opponent. Unfortunately for you, we’re not in the octagon.”
Her body seems tense as I casually run my finger down her forearm, “James what the fuck? I trusted you. How the hell did I…” Taking delight in her trying to piece together her own kidnapping I hang back and watch her, “You drugged me! You spiked my drink you son of a bitch!”
I sit at her side, “Nothing gets past you does it detective?”
The bedroom door swings open and the two blonde bombshells from the club shuffle in gleaming with joy, “Hey James!” they say in unison.
I stand to greet them, “Hello ladies.” I pull from my pocket a wad of money and hand it to one of the girls, “Did her bodyguards give you any trouble?”
They smile sheepishly as they split and count their cash, “Nope. We distracted them just like you asked us to.” one of them says.
I rub my hands together, “Excellent. Now if you’ll excuse us, Miss Rousey and I would like to be alone.”
They both wave in her direction as they exit the room, “Bye Miss Rousey!” they giggle.
I close and lock the door, “It’s only us now.” I say softly.
I watch her watching me, following my every step with her eyes, “James, I don’t know what kind of sick twisted game you’re playing here, but it’s not funny.” She says with a low grumble.
“Funny? That’s an interesting word.” I smile, kneeling at her feet.
Anger bubbles underneath her skin as she yanks at her restraints testing their stability, “Don’t worry, they’ll hold you. Even with all your muscles, you aren’t going to break them.” I reassure.
“I don’t know what you want James, but if it’s ransom I’ll gladly pay any price. Just let me go.” She says, flashing a look of desperation.
I rub my chin, “Any price you say?” I comment with intrigue.
She nods her head frantically, “Yes! ANYTHING!” She cries.
“Well there is one thing.” I say slipping off her shoes.
She flexes her creamy white toes inadvertently tantalizing me beyond my wildest passions, “W-what’d you do that for?” her voice cracks.
“You’ll see.” I grin, tossing her shoes aside, “Now, like I was saying.”
Ronda lifts her head, “What’s this one thing?” she motions with her hands.
Running a single finger up her arch I tease her delicate skin, “I didn’t quite get my fill of tickling you, the last time we were together.”
Ronda instinctively twitches away to the limits of her restraints, “OH FUCK THAT!” She bursts.
I raise my brow, “Ah, but you said ANY price did you not?” I reaffirm.
She shakes her head wildly refuting her own words, “NO! NO! Anything, but tickling! Why can’t you just demand MONEY like a normal human being?!!”
“Because my dear, your laughter is far more precious to me than anything money could buy. And trust me, this is a priceless experience.”
I watch happily as she goes into a state of distress so uncharacteristic it sees her eyes watering and her lower lip begin to quiver, “GOD DAMMIT JAMES!” She exclaims.
I run a single finger up and down her arch, “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” I chuckle.
Ronda scrunches her soles in an effort to suppress the sensations, “AH- NOOO! JAA-HEY-HEY-MES!” She screams trying to stifle her laughter.
I shake my head, “Don’t try to fight it. It’s useless to resist.” I say adding the rest of my fingers to the equation, “I don’t care how many people you broke in the octagon, here is where I break you.”
Her face lights up in involuntary delight as my frivolous fingers frolic across her silky smooth soles, “OH-WHA-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” Her agonizing desperation echoes throughout the room.
I smile happily at the sound of her laughter, “Sweet music to my ears.” I say circling the balls of her feet with my index fingers.
Her handcuffs clack noisily against the bedframe as she violently flails her arms about, “FUCK! HA-HA-HA! JAMES I SWEAR! OH-HOO-HOO WHA-HA-HA-HA!”
Trying desperately to protect herself she scrunches her feet down wrinkling her soles, “Don’t try to hide those pretty little feet!” I reprimand peeling back her toes. Completely immobile in my firm grip her feet sit more vulnerable than ever and I exploit her extended arches to no end.
Her body bounces several inches off the bed spastically to the sensations emanating from her feet, “WHOO-HOO-HOO! AH FUUCK HA-HA-HA! YOU BASTARD-AH-HA-HA-HA!” She cries ecstatically.
“Still think this isn’t funny Ronda?” I tease, scraping her big toes with my finger nail.
“NOT THE TOES!” She screeches so loud I can feel my ears pop.
“Yes the toes?” I banter back drilling my fingers through the gaps between her toes.
Ronda’s wavy blonde hair flies everywhere as she whips her head against the mattress and I can’t help but laugh alongside her at her crazy antics and her futile attempts to break free.
After five minutes of continuous torture, I let go of her feet and allow her to breathe, “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as me.” I say standing to my feet.
Ronda’s involuntary laughter subsides and her smile quickly turns to a grimace, “Fuck you James.” she says through deep breaths.
“That’s not the response I was hoping for.” I frown gliding my hand up her leg, rousing every microscopic hair on her skin.
Propping her head as much as she can she locks eyes with me, “James, don’t.” she says sternly raising her brow, “You still have a chance to make this right. Just let me go.”
“What was that?” I say tenderly massaging her fleshy thighs with my hands.
“I said… YOOOOU-HOO-HOO! AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! FUCK HA-HA-HA!” she screams unable to maintain her composure under the viciousness of my attacks.
Like a baker kneading a mound of dough I give her thighs ascending squeezes pressing her warm supple flesh with a firm grip, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I can’t hear you over all this laughter.” I say teasingly.
Every muscle in her body flexes as she violently thrashes about the bed, “AGH-HA-HA-HA! OH FUCK MEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!” She yelps bashing her head against the pillow.
I delve deeper into her thighs pressing my fingers against the bone driving her to insanity, “No wonder you’re nickname is rowdy.” I joke.
Gliding my fingers up her crotch I take notice of how swollen her vagina’s become, “You say you aren’t enjoying things, but your body says otherwise Miss Rousey.” I remark lightly tracing the indent of the crease in her panties.
She breathes heavily desperately trying to regain her bearings before the next onslaught, “James please… no more.” She whispers softly.
The distraught look on her face brings a smile on mine and her words are only fuel to the ever burning fire that nestles within me, “Poor, poor Miss Rousey. Does it feel strange? Begging for mercy?”
Heeding none of her pleas I thrust my thumbs at her hips and massage them deep into her tender flesh in circular motion. She pulls reflexively away from my fingers, but not far enough to be affective, “UGH-HA-HA-HA! I CAN’T MOOOVE AH-HA-HA-HA!”
“That’s the idea Miss Rousey.” I snicker, “Like your dreaded arm bar submission, there is no escape.” Gliding my hands across her lower abdominals I knead her stomach wiggling my fingers deep into her core.
She shimmies left to right in accordance with my attacks desperately seeking shelter from my fingers, “OH GOD-DA-HA-HA-HA! LET ME GO-HO-HO! AGH-HA-HA-HA! WHADYA WANT FROM MEEE-HEE-HEE!?”
I find it impossible not to giggle at her antics, “I want you to laugh of course.”
“GOD DAMMIT JAMES!”
Pulling away from her torso I rest my hands on my lap and watch as her body expands and contracts shell shocked by the ordeal and it’s undertaking, “Listen you son of a bitch…” She huffs.
“NO YOU LISTEN!” I shout cutting her off, “You’d be wise to watch that sharp tongue of yours.”
“Don’t you dare lay another hand on me!” she barks.
“Okay.” I smile deceitfully.
A look of concern casts over her face as I press my mouth to her midsection, “Wh-what are you doing?” she inquires.
“You told me not to lay a finger on you, so…” I lick my lips, “I’ll just tickle you with my mouth.”
“JAMES NOOO!” she cries in angst.
Pressing my lips against her soft skin I lightly preen every inch of her midriff. The warmth of her body sends tingles down my spine. I can only imagine it’s but a fraction of the sensations in comparison to what’s coursing through her body.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO! JA-HEY-HEY-AMES PLEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ASE!” she giggles swinging her hips.
Her salty skin tingles the tip of my tongue as I trace the outlines of her abs weaving my way to her succulent bellybutton.
I make her stand on the edge of suspense as I circle her navel with my tongue, “OOH YOU BASTARD! OOH YOU BASTARD!” she screams with a combination of anger and desperation.
Flicking my tongue I delve deep into her bellybutton. Feeling her flesh inside my mouth I’m met with a rousing sensation that makes my skin crawl.
Her body trembles from head to toe as I carelessly lick her like a lollipop, “AH-HA-HA-HA-HA! OH GOD DA-HA-HA-HA! MMM… THAT’S SO GROSS!”
I glide my tongue up her body causing goosebumps to form, “You’re so delicious Miss Rousey.” I comment.
“OH YOU’RE SICK!” She barks scrunching her face in disgust, “JUST WAIT TILL I GET OUTTA HERE!”
Resting my chin on her ribs I stare up at her and our eyes lock for but a moment, “Like that’s going to happen.” I roll my eyes.
She’s about to retort when I rub my chin against her ribs turning her furious demeanor into childish laughter, “WHOO-HOO-HOO-HOO! UGH HA-HA-HA! WHAT THE FUUUCK!?”
“You were saying?” I tease, barely audible over her bellowing.
Thrusting her hips reflexively she lets out a murderous cry of anguish, “DAMMIT JAY-HEY-HEY-MES! I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA FUCKIN’ KILL YOOO-HOO-HOO!”
I lift my head to take in her adorable facial expressions, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.” I whisper erotically.
She tugs at her wrists violently till her hands turn a shade of purple stopping her persistence. She lets out a frustrated huff that blows a lock of her wavy blonde hair off her face. Her breaths are long and deep as I allow her to recuperate, “I want to stroke your hair, but I’m afraid you’ll try to bite me.” I chuckle.
“You’ve got a lot more than that coming as soon as my people find me, fuckin’ bastard!” She says with piercing eyes.
“You are persistent aren’t you? Fortunately I have a remedy for that.” I say pulling from my pocket a travel sized bottle of baby oil.
Ronda flashes me a confused look, “W-what?” she shakes her head.
Pouring some on my hands I begin to generously apply coats of the oil on her underarms.
“OH GOD NOOO!” she screams coming to the realization of my intent.
I lather her arms till they’re glistening, “You thought you were ticklish before?” I raise a brow.
“JAMES NO! YOU, YOU CAN’T! JAMES PLEASE!” She begs, shaking her head in frantic disposition.
I softly stroke her arm with a single finger tracing her muscles, “Hmm… suddenly you’re not so tough.”
Her body jerks at the lightest touch and she closes her eyes tightly in anticipation. Every joint in her body tenses up and she’s still as a statue as I rest my hands at her tender hollows, “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” she mumbles under her breath.
I pause momentarily savoring her helplessness and the look of fear that’s overcome her face before I sink my thumbs deep into her armpits.
Every muscle in her arms flex as she flaps them in involuntary excitement, “WHA-HA-HA-HA! WHOO-HOO-HOO! OH GOD DA-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEEASE STOP!”
“What’s the matter Miss Rousey? Does that tickle?” I taunt, scribbling my nails over her satin smooth skin.
“JAMES PLEASE! JAY-HEY-HEY-MES-SA-HA-HA-HA! SOMEBODY HELP-AH-HA-HA-HA-HA!”
Scurrying my fingers up and down her arms I exploit every inch of her delectable skin till she’s choking up and coughing profusely, “Deep breaths, deep breaths.” I instruct.
“Can’t… breathe…” she gasps.
I rub my chin inquisitively, “Hmm… perhaps your bra is constricting you. Let me loosen it for you.” I say sounding as professional as possible.
Immediately opposed to the idea she presses her back to the mattress to protect the hook and closure, “No, no, no!” she persists.
“Oh, you wanna play hardball?” I smile, “I have a solution for that too.” I say poking her bellybutton. An inadvertent spaz jolts her body off the bed allowing me to slip underneath her and unhook her bra, “There, that wasn’t so hard was it? Now you can breathe.” I say tossing the undergarment to the floor.
Ronda’s face turns crimson red with embarrassment as her bare breasts are exposed. She utters no words, but an undoubted sense of fuming anger is boiling up inside her.
Untouched by the sun her perky breasts are a ghastly hue of white in comparison to the rest of her. Drizzling baby oil I fondle them till every inch of them is slick and glossy. I watch her angry face melt into a smile and the sound of stifled laughter fill the air as my fingers dance across her breasts, “It’s okay to laugh.” I tease.
As if given permission she whips her head back and lets out a loud blast of laughter, “AH-HA-HA-HA! WHOO-HOO-HOO! UGH, UGH AH-HA-HA-HA! OH YOU SUCK!”
Her breasts jiggle as I massage my fingers into her tender tissue. To get a better handle on things I straddle her hips pinning her to the bed, “How about these nipples?” I inquire circling her areolas with my fingertips.
Wide eyed she follows my fingers as they creep closer to her nipples, “NOT MY NIPS! NOT MY NIPS!” she protests.
Her nipples stand at attention as I graze them lightly with my fingernails. A vicious response of violent thrashing ensues nearly throwing me off in the process, “OH FUUUCK KA-HA-HA-HA! THIS IS TORTURE! OW-WAH-HA-HA-HA! JAMES PLEASE!” she begs through a wide grin.
I tuck my hands under her breasts and titillate the delicate untouched flesh that resides beneath them. To this she contorts her face like one would when tasting a bitter fruit, “I find this spot to be a jackpot amongst women. Wouldn’t you agree?” I banter.
Unable to abstain from laughing she simply bashes her head against the pillow in a combination of physical torment and mental anguish, “WHA-HA-HA-HA!”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” I smile.
I pull my hands from under and rest them on her chest to feel her beating heart. It thumps with heightened exuberance a result of the tremendous strain being put on by the tickling. A gradual trickle of sweat rolls down Ronda’s forehead as she gulps down lungful after lungful of precious air.
“My dear Miss Rousey, you look exhausted. You must be thirsty.” I say revealing a bottle of water.
She opens just one eye and when realizing I indeed am offering her nourishment nods her head in acceptance and opens her mouth.
I carefully put the bottle to her lips and slowly allow the liquid to pour into her mouth. She chugs half the bottle before nearly choking, “Feel better?” I ask as she opens her eyes.
She nods sinking her head back into the pillow. With her walls of anger seemingly destroyed and her spirit broken down I finally find it safe to reach out and stroke her strands of hair. As soft as the down of a baby duckling my fingers whisk through her scalp with ease. Seemingly appreciative, the first genuine smile of the night crawls on her face. It’s a tender moment and I almost regret having mixed sleep serum into the water she’d just consumed. Never the less the clock was ticking and in a matter of minutes Ronda Rousey would be in dreamland again.
I continue to stroke her hair as she gradually withers into unconsciousness, “They say all good things must come to an end. It’s unfortunate, but it seems this is the end of our little rendezvous.” I’m tempted to laugh maniacally at my own eloquence.
Ronda’s eyes flutter with heaviness as she struggles aimlessly to fight the sleepy sensations eclipsing her body, “What is happening to me?” Her voice, barely above a whisper trails into the night.
Caught in perpetual twilight she’s no longer a threat to me and I graciously unlatch her ankles and wrists. Free of her bonds she instinctively attempts to escape. I watch in amusement as she sprawls about the bed in bemusement until her feeble body clumsily crumples to the floor, unconscious. “Sweet dreams Miss Rousey.” I snicker leaning over her.
In a tasteful manner I re-clothe her wrapping her bra back around her breasts and slipping her dress back on. Swinging her over my shoulder I carry her to my car.
It’s sheer convenience that her smartphone has a “take me home” feature which enables inebriated users to give their designated drivers a way of getting them home. At the press of a button an illustrated map illuminates the screen. As if that weren’t enough a choppy female voice begins to tell me the way. Casually glancing towards the backseat I take notice that Ronda hasn’t stirred a bit meaning I still had time to get her home. Just the same I didn’t want her waking up anywhere else but in her own home, in her own bed.
Uncharacteristic of the city streets to be as empty as they were I glance at my phone and come to the realization of just how late it is. The destination marker indicates I’m only half a mile from her home, when flashing lights illuminate behind me, “Cops.” I whisper to myself. Making a mad dash would only allude to suspicion so I pull over and cross my fingers, hoping the officer wouldn’t notice the UFC’s cash cow knocked out cold in the backseat.
I roll down my window as the officer approaches, “Good evening sir.” I say with a smile.
He shines a blinding light in my face before responding, “Evenin’.” He says, chewing a wad of gum, “You um, know why I pulled you over sir?”
I scratch my head, “Um, no sir.” I say befuddled.
Finally turning off his flashlight a middle aged man with grey streaks of hair comes into focus, “Well see, you were going sixty-five in a forty-five.”
I nod my head in concurrence, “Sorry about that.”
“I’m going to need to see your license and registration please.”
I never learn to keep those documents handy and it’s a good minute or so before I find them in my glove compartment, “So where you headed to in such a hurry?” He asks taking the papers from my hands.
My composure wears thin with every fleeting moment, and I hope to God it’s not visible, “Home.”
He shines the light in my face again, “You, haven’t been drinking have you?”
“No sir.” I shake my head wiping my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Well, we’re really only out here looking for REAL lawbreakers, and since you clearly don’t fit that description I’m letting you off with a warning.” He says sternly returning me my papers.
Just as he’s about to walk away Ronda lets out a low groan which makes him perk up his ears, “Yes sir?” I ask treading carefully with my tone.
“Did you hear that?” He asks curiously.
I pick at my brain for a quick witty answer, “Oh, that’s my stomach. Did I mention I was hungry?”
“Ooo, then I won’t keep you.” He says with a smile.
Ronda’s home isn’t the mansion I envisioned. Having only ever trained her at the gym I’d never seen it. White panels overlay a modest two story house and an American flag hangs from the porch. With the entire neighborhood seemingly sequestered in their homes for the night sneaking her in is a breeze.
The inside of her house is quite a contrast to the well-kept outside. Articles of clothing, gym equipment and surf gear lay scattered about the room. Never having been the most organized woman in the world, it comes as no surprise to me.
We’re up the fleet of stairs when I hear her begin to moan again. I frantically bust open every door searching for the master’s quarters. At long last I come to a room covered in posters of her, “Self-obsessed much?” I think to myself. I gently set her down on a king sized mattress draped in red velvet. I linger for but a moment to watch her rest peacefully. I imagine in the morning she’ll be fuming mad with vengeance on her mind. As I turn to leave something catches my eye. On her mantle under a glass case rests her sparkling gold championship belt, “I helped you get that.” I say to her. Knowing there’d be no reconciliation after tonight’s escapade I make peace with myself right then and there and scurry out of her house before she wakes.
***
I’m awoken the next morning, not by blinding sunlight, but by soft pitters of rain tapping at my windowpane. I lay awake enjoying the soothing sound and recalling the events of the previous night. My cell phone goes off interrupting my thoughts and on a quest to find the beeping apparatus. Putting the phone to my ear I’m greeted with an all too familiar voice, one I thought I’d never hear again, “Hey James.”
“Hello Miss Rousey.” I say coolly.
