Chapter 4 gag 1

"Come on, Sharleen, move your ass!" My stepdad shouted, his face just inches away from mine. He moved behind the punch bag and held it there, increasing the resistance and making me work even harder than before. I gritted my teeth and tried to dig deep, pushing myself harder than I thought possible. I was due to compete in a few short weeks, and I knew that my stepdad was far more concerned with whether or not I won the fight than I was. I had been competing in junior kickboxing since I was eleven years old, and now eight years later, I was starting to get tired of the whole thing.

It didn't help that my stepdad was also my coach, so my training seemed to completely and utterly take over every element of my life. I never went out partying with friends, and had grown up without having any sort of social life. My only friends were the ones who I'd known from the gym, but most of them had given up on kickboxing over the years partly due to my stepdad's obsessive and totalitarian personality. What started off as a thriving martial arts centre had dwindled in numbers over the years until it was just me and a couple of my dad's old friends, stuck in a time warp of training, competitions and yet more training. I'd reached a semi-professional level and I was proud of my successes. But it just wasn't good enough for my stepdad. He was never satisfied with my performance, no matter how many competitions I won. As far as he was concerned, I was still just a weak and poorly-disciplined little girl. He coached me in the only fashion he knew how to, which was to scream in my face until I got it right. That method may have worked when I was a timid young teenager, but now that I was eighteen I was starting to grow tired of his ways. "Move, move, move, move, MOVE!" He screamed at me, forcing me to punch harder and move faster. I felt anger bubbling inside me, and tried to direct it through my movements. But I just couldn't seem to channel it. My stepdad was enraging me, and all I could do was carry on and hope that he got off my back. Our relationship had always been strained, ever since I could remember. But it seemed to have gotten a little more tense as of late. Since I turned eighteen, my stepdad had changed both his attitude and his behaviour towards me. Instead of giving me more freedom and respect, he treated me worse than a child. He had begun treating me a whole lot differently since I had turned eighteen. At first it was subtle changes, the sorts of things that wouldn't be noticeable to someone who didn't know him. He would make comments about the things I was wearing – giving backhanded compliments and suchlike, so that I felt confused and uncomfortable. But it also kind of excited me, in a strange way. It made me feel special, like I was more than just his kickboxing stepdaughter. In some ways he had started treating me more like a person, and I enjoyed that part. But it was a double edged sword. His newfound interest in me bordered on obsession. He wanted to know where I was at every waking moment, who I was with and what time I would be home. He would always make the excuse that he needed to make sure I would be home in time for training, or something else remotely related to kickboxing. In truth, he was just controlling. And this was never more apparent than when he was shouting in my face, desperately trying to force me to push my body harder. "Move it!" He growled, "stop being so goddamned WEAK!" His words cut through me and sent me over the edge. My anger erupted, and overflowed – at that moment I saw red. I snapped my gaze away from the punch bag and glared at my stepdad. "Weak?" I shouted, feeling as though I was about to explode, "does this feel weak to you?" I stepped forwards and dropped into an uppercut, sinking it into his gut with such a force that I could literally hear the air being forced from his lungs. All my power and aggression had gone into the punch, and I watched him drop to the floor just a second later, gasping for air. I felt an overwhelming excitement, coupled with an odd sense of fear as I watched him clutching his torso and rolling on the floor. I had crossed a line, and I knew it – but it had been totally worth it. I had finally stood up for myself, and proved to him that I wouldn't be bullied any longer. I turned on my heel and marched out of the gym, making my way towards the showers. I didn't want to be around for when my stepdad caught his breath. I knew that I would probably feel his wrath at some point anyway, but that was a price I was willing to pay. I had stood up for myself; proved I wasn't weak – and I just couldn't stop grinning. I was still smiling as I peeled my sweat-drenched clothes from my body and stepped into the shower. The hot water was invigorating and soothing to my sore, aching muscles. I really had been training very hard as of late, and welcomed the opportunity to spend some time alone, in a place where I knew my stepdad couldn't bother me. I sighed as I let the hot water cascade over me, and closed my eyes. I was so relaxed that I didn't hear the door to the locker room opening, or the sound of soft footsteps walking towards me. It was only when I heard the sound of a zipper that I opened my eyes suddenly. Water streamed into them, blurring my vision, and I felt completely disorientated as a pair of hands grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me, face first, against the wall. I squealed, trying to push myself away from the wall, and failing. I squealed again, and felt something being roughly shoved into my mouth. It felt like a sponge of some sort, and I tried to spit it out, but it was no use. I turned my head to look at whoever it was that had their hands on me, but all I could make out was a watery blur. But deep inside, I already knew. "Not so strong now, are you?" my stepdad growled, sending strange feelings of nervous energy through me. His voice was deep and full of anger, but there was a smooth coolness to his tone that I'd never heard before. It was almost like this came naturally to him – like this whole terrifying scenario was somehow normal. Or, as if he'd been planning something like this all along. I didn't have any more time to deliberate over the deeper meanings to the tone of his voice, because all of a sudden, a hard, swift spank landed on my bare ass cheek. I squealed into my gag, and tried to push myself back off the wall so that I could at least turn and face him. But he was just so strong.