by Tony C. Skye
The smaller stick caused instant whelping. And that's only when Tamara was using it to tease Mandie by taking force off of her swing. But whenever Tamara swung in full force, the stick caused Mandie to bleed. It cut like a knife. It never cut deeper than her flesh so as to cause an unwanted trip to the hospital, but it was enough to cause Mandie to beg for Tamara's mercy in the matter. Although she genuinely wanted the cheerleader to stop, she is so glad Tamara refused. Because that's the whole point – to cry, beg, and know you are only serving to increase your own pain levels. After all, Mandie carefully chose Tamara for this very reason.
One who enjoys pain must know that the one who is dishing it out will not stop in moments of weakness and despair. On that note, it is vital the aggressor is consumed with the sounds of begging pleas and the sight of their own work. If not, they will stop too soon each time someone like Mandie begins crossing over her pain's threshold. The next day is then awkward and disappointing.
With this kind of freedom given to the aggressor, it is an absolute must they understand the human body completely. Any lack of knowledge could result in serious permanent harm. And this is definitely not the point.
For Mandie, the brutality suffered at the hands of Tamara was nightmarish to say the least. It was frightening and no fun at all. Not really. But this day afterwards is the part Mandie now enjoys. Today, she gets to cringe when sitting down. Today, she is able to enjoy the discomforts of attempting to put clothes on her body. Yes. Today is absolutely wonderful for Mandie.
Mandie feels completely satisfied. Today, she is able to tell how much Tamara enjoyed hearing her beg and cry. She hopes the satisfaction will continue. For the days to follow will tell Mandie just how much Tamara wanted her to see and feel Tamara's hard work. In Mandie's eyes, it is Tamara who is the one getting ripped off in the ordeal. She doesn't get to feel what Mandie gets to feel – Tamara's beautiful artwork.
Mandie secretly hopes to catch Tamara admiring her own work. The idea is intoxicating to her. But if the cheerleader shows any signs of regret or sorrow, then Tamara will be a huge disappointment to this perfect case scenario. Mandie desires for Tamara too long to do it over and over again. That would be really good news. But the odds of everything being perfect are low. Mandie understands this.
She understands Tamara has never beaten someone like her before. And it's not like Mandie could have sit down and had a conversation with the girl. To begin with, Mandie isn't part of the S.V.C. Therefore, she doesn't have the social right to have a conversation of this magnitude. And secondly, Tamara would have denied such a thought. For the cheerleader does not understand who she truly is. Or at least, she didn't. Finally, and the big one, Tamara didn’t know that Mandie even existed.
It wasn't until Tamara found herself in the middle of the moment that she began embracing the idea. But when she did, Tamara fully embraced pushing the dark hair girl over her pain's threshold. She pushed and pushed – holding the girl over her threshold for many excruciating and terrifying hours. And all to Mandie's delight. Well, at least today it is to her delight.
The only part that actually surprised Mandie was the part where Tamara caringly took care of her afterwards. She did it with such compassion. Yet, the cheerleader never ruined it by regretting or apologizing for Mandie's condition.
Mandie walks over to the two unbroken sticks leaning against the wall. She runs her fingers gently over the blue ribbon. The girl with long black hair smiles over Tamara's perfection in the way she performed. The cheerleader didn't have to role-play or become something she isn't. Tamara just is. Hopefully, as she sees the whelps and bruises begin to fade from Mandie's curvy pale-white body, Tamara will long to do it again.
Mandie walks back to the front of her stereo and selects an upbeat song by the band Kittie. She walks into the kitchen and glances out of the back window above the single ceramic sink. Tamara lies on the ground crying. The cheerleader has her knees tucked into a fetal position.
“Who's the bitch now?”, Mandie playfully whispers.
* * *
“I'm tellin' you, bro. You're trippin' for no reason,” Marcus explains to Jason, “Tamara's really into you.”
“Then tell me why that geek David Snow is telling people he's got a date with her this weekend?”, Jason fumes, “And then she runs off to some kind of retreat without saying anything at all to me.”
Marcus points across the lunchroom, “First off, that geek over there has no shot with Tamara. He ain't even got a shot with any cheerleader. Think about it.”
Marcus places both of his light brown hands palm down on the table, “Can you seriously imagine a cheerleader from our school putting her social career in jeopardy for a geek?”
“I'll be back,” Jason informs as he stands up from the table.
“Come on, Jay. Don't do this. Coach will suspend you if something happens,” Marcus pleas.
“I'm just going to scare him,” Jason explains, “That's all.”
Marcus, reluctantly, follows his best friend over to the geek's table. The students sitting there all stop chatting whenever they see the two all-state basketball players approaching.
“You!”, Jason threatens one of the boys wearing glasses, “Keep my girlfriend's name out of your mouth or we're going to have a serious problem.”
The boy nervously looks upward and nods. Jason's right hand tightens into a fist. Marcus grabs his friend's right bicep.
“He's got the message, bro,” Marcus pulls Jason's arm firmly, “This ain't worth getting suspended over.”
Jason jerks his arm free. He points his right index finger two inches from David Snow's nose.
“Don't make me regret walking away, geek,” Jason threatens through gritted teeth.
He turns and walks with Marcus out of the lunchroom. David Snow finishes his tuna sandwich and leaves the chow hall without uttering a single word.
* * *
“Oh, gawd. We're ruined,” Rebecca watches the confrontation taking place at the geek's table.
“Yeah, that's not good,” Jennifer verifies.
“Let's just wait and see what Tamara wants to do,” Caroline reasons, “Maybe she'll have an idea we haven't thought of yet.”
“What - kill everybody off?”, Rebecca huffs.
“Don't say that,” Jennifer warns against Rebecca's cheap shot.
“I was just saying,” Rebecca backpedals, “Don't get your panties in a bunch.”
“Don't say,” Jennifer reiterates her final warning.
“Fine,” Rebecca backs down, “Maybe Caroline's right. We should wait until Tamara gets back.”
The three girls watch as Marcus and Jason exit the lunchroom.
“So,” Rebecca inquires, “Who's gonna tell Tamara about Jason?”
“I've got it,” Jennifer answers. She tosses her half-eaten pizza down on the tray, stands up, and walks out of the lunchroom. Caroline and Rebecca exchange concerning glances.
* * *
For the past few hours, Mandie has watched Tamara have a mental meltdown. The taller girl has paced the front yard, sat in her car, screamed out, and cried. Now, she sits on the porch with her head against the rail post and stares blankly down the driveway. No thoughts seem able to form. Everything is chaotic. Everything is madness. But she might be ready to step out of the shock she has been in.
Tamara hears the screen door open up behind her, “Go back inside. I don't want to see you right now.”
“Are you hungry?”, Mandie quietly questions.
Tamara turns to give Mandie a look of condemnation.
“No. I am not hungry,” Tamara speaks short tempered, “I just killed someone. Dammit! You really are crazy.”
Mandie doesn't react to the verbal attack against her. She gives the cheerleader a look of compassion and understanding.
“I'll be inside cooking us some cheeseburgers,” Mandie explains very calmly. She turns around with the new sheet she has placed around herself. The girl pauses.
“By the wa
y. You didn't murder that filthy pig, Tamara. You put him down like the sick pervert he was. Always remember that.”
Mandie mutters under her breath, but just loud enough for Tamara to hear, “I wonder how many more little girls he hurt after you?”
Tamara listens to the screen door close. Shortly, thereafter, the stereo stops playing the hard sounding metal music in which Mandie seems so partial to.
Brittney Spears?
Tamara has never cared for Brittney Spears. But she doesn't exactly hate her either. It's just one of those things. She listens as the song begins playing. Tamara rolls her eyes.
“Certifiable,” Tamara says with a sigh.
Tamara listens through her tormented mental exhaustion.
“Hit me baby one more time,” Mandie sings loudly.
“You are crazy,” Tamara’s condemnation is laced with slight enjoyment. She listens as Mandie sings only the one line of the song every time it is said. With each repetitive outburst of Mandie’s terrible singing voice, Tamara's mood improves.
Whenever the song ends, so does the short-lived Brittney Spear performance. Tamara awaits the next selection. The blond grins as the music flip-flops back to Mandie's favored genre.
Tamara's unfamiliarity with the song makes her listen intently to the words. About midway through, Tamara nods.
“Yep, crazy as they make ‘em,” Tamara adores with a whisper, “Mandie with an i-e.”
* * *
Mandie switches out the Brittney Spears teaser and replaces the empty air with music she prefers. Most girls her age are not into the band Metallica. But she likes them. And it's her house, sorta. So she'll play one of her favorite songs by them, Sanitarium.
The sore girl strolls into the kitchen to check on the frying cheeseburgers. She flips each one, mashes it slightly with a spatula, and then proceeds to prep a tomato, two slices of cheese, and some lettuce. As she makes her final cuts into the tomato, she hears the bathroom's faucet turn on. Mandie glances over and sees Tamara with a toothbrush in her mouth. Not wanting to risk destroying the cheerleader's progress, Mandie turns her back to the small bathroom.
Mandie finishes with her prepping, flips the burgers, smashes them to release their grease, and places a slice of cheese on each one. She turns down the heat and places a cover over the frying pan.
“Is that stereo of yours able to transfer?”, Tamara questions.
Mandie turns around. “Yes,” the girl responds, “Like from a phone?”
Tamara nods. She halfheartedly points towards the stereo, “Do you mind?” The tall blond quickly perceives Mandie's confusion. It is the first time Tamara has asked Mandie for permission to do something since she met her.
“The stereo is yours,” Tamara explains, “I'm not a complete ass you know.”
The shoulder-length blond leaves the house and returns shortly. She examines the expensive stereo and finds the function for wireless transfer. She looks into the kitchen while prepping the stereo with her music. Her brows narrow.
“I could have told you to do this,” Tamara threatens, “But I didn't want my food burnt.” She isn't quite sure, but she thinks she can see a grin on Mandie's face while she cooks.
“It's your body that belongs to me,” Tamara distinctly clarifies, “Not your stereo. Don't confuse the two, Mandie with an i-e.”
Mandie fills two glasses with ice and Dr. Pepper. She turns and places them on the table by each plate.
“Sorry. No fries or chips,” Mandie informs while looking at the cheerleader with amused eyes.
“Doesn't this thing have a remote or something?”, Tamara questions while staring at the stereo.
“Look between the receiver and amplifier,” Mandie responds.
“Got it,” Tamara announces before walking into the kitchen with remote in hand.
Mandie stands patiently by the table. She smiles when Tamara inhales deeply through her pointy nose.
“Smells great,” Tamara exhales, “I'll give you one thing, Mandie with an i-e. You can cook.”
“Thanks,” Mandie answers shyly.
Tamara examines Mandie curiously, “What's with the sheet all day? You should probably get your clothes back on. It’s kinda weird.”
Mandie gives Tamara one of those intoxicating stares from yesterday, “I thought you might like watching me squirm when I try to get dressed.”
Tamara seems taken back a little bit by the strange proposal. But it doesn't take her long to reason out the possibilities.
“I hope your jeans fit too tight, you crazy bitch,” Tamara's tone embodies her fiery attitude.
Tamara seats herself while Mandie does the same directly across from her. The shorter girl appears to be waiting for something. The blond feels a brief moment of awkwardness before realizing what Mandie is waiting for. Tamara bites into the cheeseburger. She nods while chewing.
Tamara swallows down the bite, “It's good, Mandie. Thank you.” The cheerleader's soft tone sharpens itself, “Don't be making me feel like I'm on some kind of weird lesbo date.”
Mandie shakes her head, “Sorry. I didn't mean...”
“Shut up, Mandie,” Tamara chastises kindly, “Just eat and listen to this song.”
Mandie bites into her burger. Tamara's recent personality-coaster has her on edge. She watches Tamara click the remote. The girl's personality-coaster spikes again as she narrows her brows angrily.
“I still like boys,” Tamara informs.
“Boys are good,” Mandie agrees.
Tamara's song plays throughout the small farmhouse – the lyrics singing for both of the speechless girls. Mandie's smile answers Tamara's criticizing arching left brow as Katie Perry's I kissed a Girl runs through its chorus line.
* * *
Rebecca, Caroline, and Jennifer all read the text message they each received from Tamara while dressing out for cheerleading practice. The same message sent to each of them reads: 'I'll handle it. Stop worrying. Quit flooding my phone. C u n morn. Luv u. Bye.’
“See, I told you,” Caroline reminds.
Jennifer's bad mood continues, “Let's just get this over with and start over tomorrow.” The taller girl leaves the girl's locker room for the gym.
“She's got to be ragging,” Rebecca stares at the closing door.
“Becca, you kept calling Tamara a killer,” Caroline answers, “She's just upset. She'll be better tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Well we still don't know she isn't,” Rebecca gets her infamous last words in. Caroline ignores the statement and follows her captain out of the locker room.
* * *
“Are you still hungry?”, Mandie asks while clearing Tamara's plate.
“No. I'm good. Thanks,” Tamara responds while watching Mandie do the dishes. The cheerleader stands and walks over to the sink.
“I've got this. You just drop that stupid sheet,” Tamara demands, “Stand there and look pretty or something.”
Mandie's body tingles with anticipation. She drops the sheet to the floor and kicks it behind her with her right foot. Tamara's face flushes whenever she sees the writing on the girl's body. Mandie attempts to redirect the cheerleader's attention.
“Why didn't you play here?”, Mandie questions while cupping both of her breast.
Tamara's eyes linger before she gazes into Mandie's green eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice cracks. She laughs.
“Geezus, Mandie,” Tamara states while looking back to the dishes she is washing.
“That's not an answer,” Mandie refuses her response.
“Your fat lips make you sound like a boxer who has just lost big time,” Tamara changes the subject.
Mandie shifts her weight to her left foot and crosses both arms over her breasts. Her silence tells Tamara there's no getting out of the inquiry. The cheerleader places the last glass in the dish drainer on the countertop. She releases the drain plug and leaves the cold faucet water running to wash down the soapy dishwater. Tamara turns to her right after drying her hands on
the dish towel. She arches both brows questioningly.
“How am I supposed to improve on perfection?”, Tamara gives her answer.
Mandie lowers her arms to her side. Her unsatisfied facial expression causes Tamara to feel uncomfortable.
“Fine,” Tamara sulks. She pauses a moment before speaking.
“I meant what I said before,” Tamara reconfirms her earlier statement while staring into the girl's green eyes.
“What we have is not about sex,” Tamara forces her eyes to remain focused on Mandie's stare. She shakes her head, “What we have? What am I saying? I barely know you. Until yesterday, I wanted you to be a Submissive.”
Mandie's hands flow from her deep purple thighs up to her black and blue buttocks.
“You did a beautiful job, Tamara. I love your artwork,” Mandie speaks genuinely.
“See,” Tamara interjects, “That's the problem, Mandie.”
“Because I enjoyed you?”, Mandie fakes being naive.
“Yes. No,” Tamara's tongue twists, “Crap. I don't know. I mean, yes. That's the problem.”
Mandie grins. She turns and walks towards her bedroom, “Come on.”
Tamara follows after turning the faucet off. She warns, “Don't you try any lesbo stuff with me, Mandie. I mean it.”
The girl ignores Tamara's threat as she walks into her room, turns left, goes to her closet, and opens the door. Tamara walks in as Mandie turns to face herself in the full length mirror hanging on the door's backside. The shock in her eyes tells the cheerleader it's her first full body view of herself.
