...A Continuation of ‘On The Court’...
Off The Court Part 11
by moanalo
~~~~ Ouch ~~~~
I don't know if I can continue.
My body is wasted and crippled...
Even my sex and breasts are throbbing uncomfortably...
...and my mind isn't able to process any of it.
What has she done to me?
The tears aren't helping as I try to push my upper body off the mat, but
my arms quiver with exhaustion hindering that effort. And now I really feel
the soreness in my breasts as they hang between my outstretched arms, I
blink my eyes and the tears sting. I've never felt my breasts and nipples
so swollen and aching. The constant grinding of our bodies has done a 'real
number' on them.
If I ever needed a 'second wind', now is the time.
I want to look over at her. No, I 'have to' look at her, to see what she
wants to do. And there she is, staring right back at me, Monique, what a
tough bitch. She looks a little weary of me and we say nothing, that
silence is awkward and unnerving. Our eyes and bodies posture in a more
guarded way, yet I think she wants to keep going.
But do I? Yes, yes I think I do.
But I have to turn away to hide my emotions, it scares the hell out of me
when I realize, if we do keep going, this will not end until one of us is
truly pounded, or fucked, into submission. My heart races at the mere
thought of that word 'fucked'. I am not at all comfortable with the place
it comes from, or why it is suddenly in the forefront of my mind. Does
Monique want to do that to me? That causes me to whimper, and then a sob
slips out of my mouth because I don't know if I can win...I don't know if I
can beat her. And I don't care if she sees me crying. She is breaking me
down, physically, sexually and mentally.
Getting lost in all those questions can only cause more self-doubt, so
I shake my head and make that decision; To either quit or continue.
Another deep breath, and then I pivot around to face my long time
rival...she responds by sitting up and I notice her breasts look equally
hurt. That gives me some amount of consolation, although not much. She
seems nervous but anxious to get at me, and a shiver runs up my spine when
I see the amount of lust in how she is now looking at me. In shame I
briefly look away again, lest she sees my own desires.
On our knees, while favoring our hurt legs, we shuffle closer and I try to
steel myself, letting my body tell me what it is feeling? This is still a
battle, but my sexuality as a woman feels on the line now and I draw a deep
nervous breath at that thought.
And then we fall towards one another.
As our arms grapple with one another, our heads touch and we moan in pain
when our breasts crush against one another. 'You can do this.' I
tell myself, remembering how I fought free from her full-nelson. But I am
over enthusiastic, so of course I recklessly drop my head and go
low, and Monique slaps a front guillotine choke on me. So stupid on my
part. I thought nothing of it because I didn’t know what she was really
trying to do, and didn’t think it would really work. How naive of me.
She arches her back and sinks her forearm into my neck and then twists. I
gag and cough a little.
“I’ve got you!” And she would have had me too if she had any more energy
left. But I wiggle and squeeze my fingers into where hands are clasped,
keeping just enough air and blood flowing so I could squirm my head free.
“Not anymore you don’t!” I announce when my head pops free.
When my head came up from the guillotine I was met with a slap across the
face. That tore me to pieces. I’ve never been slapped across the face
before and it shook me to the core. Emotionally the damage is worse than
the physical, although it did rock my head to the side and my whole body
bowed back. I am not sure what kept me from falling over!
When my head snaps back around the look on Moniques face told me two
things; She hates my guts (this I already know), and she looks horrified by
what she just did. Really? After everything you have done to me, your look
conveys shock...maybe remorse? She must have known I was going to slap her
back, and I did. I didn’t want to, but I despised her for striking me
across the face. It is like the ultimate declaration of disgust between two
women. If she is trying to break me, which she almost did, she failed. If
she is trying to make me ‘snap’ and fight back, she succeeded. I believe
she was going for the former.
Oddly enough, Monique doesn’t even try and block me, and my slap is a lot
more powerful than hers was. She probably wasn’t expecting that. After I
struck she let loose a shriek as spit and sweat went flying off her face,
her head and upper body twisting almost 180 degrees away from me. Her
backside is momentarily exposed, so I reach over with my right hand,
grabbing a hunk of sweat-soaked black hair and savagely jerk her head
backwards. It forces her whole upper body to bow-back as well. Monique
doesn’t struggle right away, she might be in a state of shock from my slap.
So I seize on that advantage by wrapping my right arm around her exposed
throat, trapping her in a reverse guillotine choke. Everything feels on
auto-pilot and I wonder if maybe I have gotten my 'second wind' now?
My left hand reaches under her arching back to grab my right wrist, this
really allows me to crank her neck up-and-back, forcing her to get a good
view of the ceiling. Those black bountiful breasts of hers thrust up toward
the ceiling as well, in fact her whole torso looks painfully bent. It is
such a magnificent site, her chest glowing with a thick sheen of sweat and
those hard nipples pointing straight up. Just a brief moment of admiration
on my part, but she looks so helpless and at my mercy, so exciting in a
sexual way. Especially after I was being tormented by her just minutes ago!
“You stupid black bitch! How do you like me now?!” I rage down, fresh tears
falling from my eyes, my emotions are getting the better of me because of
that slap. Maybe her smacking me across the face got me back into the
fight?
“Go to hell!” Monique’s voice is rasping up at me as I keep cutting off her
air supply. Now she is starting to resist! Her arms begin to flail and
fight for freedom, her right hand reaches under her back to fight off my
hold, so my left hand lets go of my right wrist and I grab her flailing
right wrist, pulling it into a tight armlock. I then really pour on the
pressure, strangling her neck with my right arm while wrenching her arm
behind her back with my left. She is in a dire predicament, still on her
knees and her whole body wrenched backward, I have her bent into an almost
perfect ‘U’. This long groan of pain comes from her strong chest as I keep
bending and twisting her powerful body around like a taut bow.
“I got you bitch! I guess I own you now!”
I admit I am feeling so powerful. I squeeze my hold and my chest
muscles flex pushing my breasts outward. A sense of authority and power is
surging through me, not just in the physical sense, but also in a sexual
way. Having control over my rival’s body like this, my breasts swelling,
hovering over hers in a position of domination and control! I must have
held Monique in this position for what felt like a long time, she kept
twisting and turning but was truly helpless. Her long, sexy, ebony body,
glistening with sweat, her straining muscles fighting against me, trying to
break free. But I had her, oh how I had her! Monique tries to spread her
knees apart and squirm into some new position, but my reverse guillotine
was in deep, and I kept making small counter-adjustments so she couldn’t
slip out from how I have her body bowed backwards. With her flailing left
hand she periodically manages to scratch, or whack me upside the head. But
nothing substantial. The only concern is my left leg, it is hurting
terribly, and I began to worry it would force me to release the hold
because I was putting a lot of pressure on it to stabilize my position.
“Oh God, this is killing me!” Monique finally hisses, sounding desperate.
“That’s the idea!” I growl. Looking over my right shoulder I can see her
face looking back up at me, even with her midnight black skin she is
turning different shades from the lack of air and blood. This
causes my whole body to surge with excitement! My breasts and nipples are
so hard, my pussy gushing at the way my strong muscles are forcing
Monique’s body to bend to my power.
“I give! I submit!” The rasping words came as the spit bubbles out of the
corners of her busted lips.
“Feeling my muscles now? I bet you are!” I twist her trapped right arm a
little tighter, making her whimper. “How about you admit I am the better
woman, and this can all be over.”
“NO!” Tears streak from her eyes. What a stubborn, tough bitch.
“Fuck you then!” I squeeze more and lean back a little bit, forcing her to
bow beyond the ‘U’ shape I already had her in. No matter her defiance, she
is done; Her stomach, breasts, and shoulders begin heaving like she is
having convulsions. Sputtering and sobbing up at me, I decide to relax the
hold and see if she has anything to say, she does;
“Please stop! Please let me go! I can’t take it anymore. God help me.
You're tearing my body to pieces! This is the worst thing ever!”
It wasn’t a total surrender, but it was enough for me, for now. I let go
and give her a firm shove on the back, her whole body falls forward
performing an epic face-plant, slapping the mat with a dead thud. Yes
indeed, some deviant part of me enjoys watching that big black body hit the
mat like a wrecked piece of meat. Those strong, wide shoulders shaking in a
subtle way as she struggles to suppress her emotions, although I can still
hear her whimpering. And her right arm, it is still locked behind her
back, unmoving.
I still can’t shake it, even now, how amazing she is, what a perfect
specimen of a woman. My admiration seems to have no limits when it comes to
Monique, which makes it all the more tragic, that this is how we have to
settle things?
~~~~~ No Doubt ~~~~
Hope. I am hoping that last submission put some finality on this struggle.
With that in mind, I sit back on my ass and begin to massage my aching left
leg. Almost slumping over from the fatigue setting in. I didn’t feel like
continuing; my mind is a mess, my body is a mess. ‘Just stop this and go
home.’
When Monique rolls over and sits up, it is a haggard, beatdown and battered
mess of woman that is facing me. No doubt my own appearance is equally so,
if judging how I feel is any indication. And yet that woman, my
rival, her great beauty is still intact. Monique’s female sensuality and
raw physical power flows out from every exquisite body part. My heart
pounds in ways that makes me question...everything...what is it that we
bring out in each other?
Sadly though, Monique’s eyes speak of only bad intentions. She is coming
for me again and I couldn’t believe it! I didn’t want to continue. I just
sat there staring at her in disbelief, my eyes pleading for her to stop.
For us to stop this now! Haven’t we done enough damage to one another!? How
bad she must want to win. To defeat me and prove she can dominate me.
Another war must be taking place, some private war inside of Monique, that
hinges on what? Defeating me? But I will not be dominated by her. So does
that reveal something in me as well?
No verbal conversations take place as we both try to get back to our feet,
for what reason I do not know because it is a struggle.
On more time, to prove to one another that we can stand, women-to-woman,
and confront one another from up on our feet.
I am barely upright when my legs start to tremble, my knees buckle
a couple of times, but somehow I manage. Swaying back and forth while
favoring my injured left leg. Feeling about ready to fall over.
Monique manages to rise as well, but stumbles almost into a nearby wall,
her left hand reaches out to brace herself. She remains leaning there,
taking deep breaths before testing her weight on her injured right leg. I
am sure she will never forgive me for hurting her leg. Would I ever forgive
her for hurting mine?
Would that matter?
We probably will never see one another again after this.
Our eyes meet and we are wary of one another, anger-and-strength replaced
by fear-and-desperation. Neither of us have been keeping time, but most of
the day seems to have slipped into the late afternoon. And no score
keeping, we have inflicted horrible damage and submissions on each other,
so who really has the advantage? Limping forward, we come within two feet
and our sweat soaked bodies simply fall against each other. No fancy
maneuvers, or tricks.
When we latch on to one another I know it is for the very last time.
I have almost no more left to give. This black amazon I am battling is an
epic warrior. Me? I am justing fighting to survive and come out in one
piece. I have no idea what she thinks of me, outside of the fact she wants
to kick my ass.
Monique presses against me with a level of energy I didn’t think she had
left. And that familiar intimacy is back, breast pressing against breast,
nipple against nipple. But the exhaustion is settling in, true muscle
failure, not just signs of fatigue creeping into all my joints and muscles.
Our heads slowly come closer, passing off to the side and it feels like we
are suffering as one person, cheek to cheek. And then the inevitable
happens, we topple back to the ground, each of us crying out in pain when
the jarring thud ripples through our injured bodies. Deftness is not to be
found as we move in slow, lumbering efforts. On our sides, me on my right,
we rest while embracing, but then our chests and bodies begin that slow
grind. The sweat and lotion are still there, just a little, lubricating our
actions, my erect nipples tormenting me by the slow and erotic rubbing
against Monique's skin. She tries to roll me over onto my back but fails. I
try to roll her over but unable. So we simply we remain on our sides,
stretching out the full length of our bodies. Our hips keep pressing and
our legs slither against one another, still seeking some kind of advantage.
When we are like this, are we more akin to lovers? Do we even look like
lovers? I wouldn’t know. I have never made love to anyone. I wonder, what
does Monique know about love? How my mind drifts as I lay in her arms,
panting for air.
No plan, no strategy, at times we seem to be groping one another aimlessly.
My hands, just begin roaming all over Monique’s body for some new leverage.
But the sweat hinders everything. My hands find and squeeze Monique's
perfect ass, she moans against my cheek. Monique's hands are on my back,
then my shoulders, then down to my ass and legs. The pressure of our
touches get rougher and rougher until we are squeezing the other's body
with our fingers, even clawing at one another. My nostrils flare and the
smell of her body robs me of all my senses. Again, everything about her
draws me in, her touch...her smell, even the taste of her sweat that slips
past my lips when I press my face against her skin. And I feel her own face
buried against my skin as well, her mouth open, she must know what I taste
like.
We keep hugging for that ultimate intimacy, but the struggle to dominate
continues.
As bad as my left leg hurts I must have more contact with this woman, she
brings out the best and worst in me. I keep trying to engage Monique’s legs
with mine, keeping her tight against me. She must have felt that her own
injured leg, her right, could engage because she hooks her knee behind my
left knee. Now our injured legs match up against one another. Our other
legs also coil around each other, so whose would emerge victorious? However
it happens, we will be locked in each others arms to the very end. And we
squeeze, sharing a long moan of pain, but there is more than just pain in
our sounds. Something else, and I am so scared now.
Our bodies continue to slide against one another in every way possible;
hands and arms holding onto one another, breasts rubbing, nipples aching,
muscular bellies pressing tight, and legs grinding. Perhaps this is the
best of all possible endings? Head-to-Toe we are latched onto one another
and when that final admission of defeat happens, it will be face to face.
Woman-to-woman. I nuzzle my face up close against hers, panting and
moaning, pain or pleasure? Yes, it is both. Her breath is right against my
cheek, moving quick and hot over my ear canal. It is more than just air, it
is also the person breathing that air, and those sounds coming from her, it
is affecting me.
Maybe I have always wanted something like this to happen between us? And
now it has. I shut my eyes and feel the hot tears, because I know I can
never admit this secret pleasure to anyone, not even her. And so I just
hold onto this moment for dear life, because every second the present slips
away and you can never get it back. And with those fleeting thoughts, I hug
my rival even tighter, and she squeezes back. Does she feel it too? Tight
as we can, as if we both are trying to achieve some epic consummation to
this struggle. Naked, sweaty body pressing against body, arms still
pulling, our legs tangling and intertwining.
This new form of intimacy in our final struggle unlocks some latent energy
in me as we begin moving against one another with increased effort. The
heat of our mounds between our legs is driving me crazy, Monique pushes her
crotch against mine and I press back. What is she doing? Is she trying to
distract me? One of us has to emerge the winner in our struggle for the
battle of control, dominance and supremacy. So I can not lose focus now!
My legs keep interlocking with hers, trying to weave a tapestry of knees
and ankles, locking and searching for some hold that seems ever elusive.
With my eyes still closed I can only feel and imagine my way around her
body. Up-top and down-below. I envision our limbs as slow moving pythons,
arms and legs slithering in and out, all around one another. Each of us
searching for a squeeze of submission, but our limbs now lack their once
powerful potential, unless one of us finds just enough of something to push
the other over the edge. It feels like we might forever be locked in each
other's arms and legs, that is such a powerful thought, our embrace is that
intense. It may not look like much from the outside, but to me it feels
like a titanic struggle for dominance. Straining in slow-motion, there is
only the ripple of muscle and the panting of breath to give evidence to the
efforts being put forth.
Our arms stretch-out above our heads and I grab her right wrist with my
right hand, I feel some potential there. I then weave my left hand around
to grab my own right wrist. Not exactly sure what I will find waiting for
me, if anything, but it was close enough to an armlock/kimura, so I
continue. I am still feeling-for-it and not sure if I have achieved
anything at all.
Monique stops breathing for a moment, then gasps lungfuls of air, and with
one final lurch this long bodied girl starts fighting back. Maybe she knows
I am onto something? Perhaps I am. We writhe together with greater
intensity, our slippery bodies feel melded together. Monique’s whole body
stretches, quivering, her warm pulsating flesh against mine as we strive
for bodily supremacy. My left leg wraps around her legs, behind her knees,
and I manage to trap both her legs between mine. My right knee feels my
left foot and then hooks my left ankle, I draw my legs up tight, my rival
moans wildly. Now I have something akin to a figure-four leg lock
on her legs, as well as her right arm trapped.
Now I really bare-down, stretching her body with mine!
Monique gasps are coming continuously, so sensual in many ways, as I force
her body to bend. Our sinews rippling under a sheen of sweat that covers
both of us. And then she starts doing something with her body that is
different, challenging mine, undulating her chest, her hips crush against
mine and now I am the one moaning, feeling very uncomfortable. As long as I
have her trapped, she also has me trapped, and she begins tormenting me
with parts of her body. Oh God, have I just doomed myself in some way?!
What is she trying to do to me? Am I the one that has fallen into her trap?
~~~~~ The Finale ~~~~
That sexy black body attacks me with everything she can bring. Her strong,
slippery hips grapple tight against mine, our thighs press and strain,
bodies plastered. She knows this and is using it to her advantage. Our hair
is wet and covering our skulls, intermingling blonde and black hair. The
sweat pressing from between our bodies in a free torrent as we squirm in
a puddle of our own making.
Our hard nipples joust deep between our plastered breasts. The feel of
her solid breasts trying to press and rub mine into submission was almost
more than I could take without screaming! But she does! She forces me to
cry out and that encourages her. She keeps trying to abuse and degrade my
breasts and nipples with hers. What little I can maneuver I try to twist
my chest against hers. Our breasts kept grinding, my rival's rubbery skin
glued to mine, our nipples now fully bent against one another with an ache
that I never thought possible to achieve.
We both force the other to growl, grunt and moan. Sometimes it sounds
sexual, sometimes in pain. Our breasts have always been a point of
contention between us and now they are driving against one another with no
escape. She is working me over as I try while I desperately try to bend
her body into a submission. But the heat of passion is building up between
us and she is wearing me down. My clit, emerged from it’s sheath long ago,
is tormented by her's as our mounds crush against one another. Oh God, not
there too!
Breaths gusting and panting as we try to leverage more pressure, breast
against breast, crotch against crotch. Our heads remain side by side, her
moans directly against my ear as I whisper my own sounds of pain and
pleasure into her ear. How I wanted to look into her eyes now, and see what
she was experiencing. Do you know what you are doing to me? How you are
tormenting me.
Her pelvis pumps hard and fast into mine, Oh God Yes...But No! I can't take
much more! She knows I am most vulnerable there, with my legs wrapped
around hers, it is an open invitation for her to attack me there, and she
does, God what will I do? How will I resist this. I am grinding my crotch
right back at hers, wantonly.
The orgasm struck and I cry out, writhing and making all sorts of sounds
as she wrings the orgasm from my body. This spurs her on, her clit goes
after mine again, her target. But I dug in, channeling the tensing muscles
of my climax into forcing her to bend to my will. To break down this woman
before she breaks me. She is determined to fuck me into a submission.
Her bulging breasts keep swelling against mine and I scream as my breasts
ache under the pressure of her strong breasts. But she starts trying to
rotate to her right, and I can't take much more as my breasts feel almost
overwhelmed! But she keeps trying to turn, away from me, and why is that?
I realize she is looking for some kind of relief from how I am bending her
body, but this only brings her more pain. Good! So I keep working my legs
to control her quivering knees, and I feel Monique's rippling thighs
beginning to bunch and shiver in spasms.
She stops grinding against my pussy, thank God.
What worries me now? How my thighs are beginning to cramp from the
exertion, and my injured left leg is stabbing with pain. I still have
her right wrist trapped; bending, twisting and stretching her right arm,
while her left hand tries to dislodge my hold, but failing. My legs pulling
her legs tight as I arch my back, drawing Monique's big, sweat soaked body
as tight as I can.
How much longer can she hold out? There must be an end to this!
I throw my head back and scream. As if it were a matter of life and death
she begins to squirm violently, that competitive urge in me welling up,
making my pulse race. Maybe I do have just enough left to hold her, to
break her?
"Give up!" Monique cries. “Just give up!” Her tone is begging in nature, so
who is she talking to? Me Or Herself?
No matter, I can not - will not, give up now.
Our heads come around and the tears are streaming from her eyes, as well as
my own. But something suddenly feels different, Monique’s muscles lose all
sense of defiance, as if the energy is simply no longer there.
Zero resistance!
Risking everything, I unleash an all-out, do-or-die effort, forcing her
weakened, quivering body to contort. Perhaps my progress is only a fraction
of an inch, my body is shaking so bad it feels like I have a fever. Elbows,
shoulders, hips, and knees are twisted to the point of popping, hers and
mine!
There is this piercing scream, and... “Annika!”.
That snaps me out of my feverish dream state.
“I can’t take this anymore, you win! You win! I am done! The fight is
over!”
For an instant I freeze, laying there paralyzed and staring, seeing
nothing, but feeling everything. Did I hear those words or imagine them?
“Just let me go.” Her voice is soft, but slightly hoarse from a long day.
So intent upon maintaining my hold that it seems I momentary lost all idea
of where I am or what I am doing. We are so tightly enwrapped in each
other's arms and legs that I could not even know where to begin untangling.
First things first; Slowly let my muscles relax, and release the grip along
Monique’s powerful body.
How did I ever tame this woman?
Maybe I didn’t, maybe I just outlasted her.
We lay like this, side-by-side, for what feels like long while, our arms
and legs loose, but still intertwined around one another. When I do finally
manage to roll over on my back I feel like I am floating in a swimming
pool.
I roll a little more, over onto my left side, away from her and simply
stare at nothing in particular. I’ve never been through anything like this
in my life. Although we lay next to one another and parts of our bodies
still touch, we might as well be miles apart.
My right hand moves down and gently...protectively, covers my
crotch, where she so rubbed me raw. I shudder at my own touch. My left arm
cradles my abused breasts. How close she came to crushing my breasts and
begging her to stop.
She might have begged me to stop the fight first, but what she did to my
pussy and breasts have me doubting if I can match her. I just lay there
curled up, cradling my abused body.
‘So quiet.’ I contemplate. Other than our own breathing from within this
room. And then the sounds from the outside slowly penetrate; Some distant
traffic, even...some birds. Yes, the world around us is still carrying on;
before...during...and after our struggle. Nothing changes, but I feel
different. What captures my attention next is how Monique is suddenly
taking deep breaths, moving around. I move to sit up, that effort is a very
unpleasant experience as I wince in pain, but I sit-up nevertheless and
turn around.
She is laying on her right side, her back to me. But I am not pleased by
how she sounds. I have never heard Monique sound so dejected and defeated
before, even after our basketball match.
‘Say a kind word.’ That is what I am thinking of doing, but I do not think
that would be well received. I have nothing to go on but my gut instinct,
and I feel that the victor should act strong, even the loser wants to know
they have been bested by a greater warrior/athlete. Strange...I have always
idolized Monique to some degree. Still do I guess. Does she look at me the
same way? ‘I will not be cruel.’ I will not taunt or mock her in this new
defeat.
Trying to get to my knees is an interesting balancing act to try and
perform, but before I try any further, a part of me needs affirmation about
something else. I reach over and place my finger under Monique’s chin to
get her attention. “I expect you to honor our agreement.”
Monique looks at me with glassy eyes that now carry only a vestige of their
previous pride, and hate. She nods weakly. If there is anything else to her
expression, I don’t care, feeling unable to process anymore. Favoring my
injured left leg I manage stand over her, breathing deeply and drenched in
sweat, every muscle crying out for release, still not realizing that it was
all over. But I am here, standing over my rival in victory once again. I
turn away just in time to hide another wince of agony, from where the pain
comes I don’t know, because I hurt all over. When I caught sight of a small
mirror in the corner of the room I decide to tempt fate and limp on over.
‘Whoa daddy!’ I look a disaster; Blood on my cut lips, dried blood under my
nose, swelling around my chin and cheeks. I will probably have a black eye
in the morning. The rest of my body is decorated in bruises, swelling and
scratches. My breasts are swollen and red, my crotch as well.
Monique wanted a war, and we have been in one. There is no consolation in
knowing Monique was equally hurt. If not more so.
Thus begins the slow agonizing effort of getting dressed.
Before departing I take one last look back at the slumped, beaten body
across the room, “You lost, you clean up this mess.”
Rather nasty and cold of me? Maybe. But I didn’t go looking for this, she
did. Had she come out on top, she would have probably been even more
sadistic.
Well, whatever.
~~~~ Home ~~~~
Sitting in my car outside that MMA Gym, I pour some water on a towel I
pulled from my gym bag, and begin to wipe the traces of blood off my face.
I am really starting to feel horrible, more so physically than emotionally.
Now comes the discipline.
I slip on my sunglasses and I stop at a 7-11, hobbling inside and
avoid looking at anyone. ‘Yes, I did get run over by a truck, and the license
plate said ‘Monique’.’
I buy the biggest bag of ice they have and went straight home. After
dragging myself into the apartment, I dump the bag of ice into my bathtub.
Fill it up with cold water, strip down and then sink my body into the ice,
cold water. ‘Ouch’. This is essential to keeping my muscles from filling up
with blood, swelling, bruising and so on. I sat there as long as I could
tolerate it. Then I take a proper shower. Then stuff my face with dinner.
Then stuff my mouth with Tylenol. Then lay down on my bed with ice bags all
over my face, breasts and crotch.
I am not feeling very victorious right now. Maybe I will be in a better
mindset tomorrow, and then I can start to contemplate everything that has
happened.
In the meantime, I just thank God that is over with.
