Always There

Follow the main characters as they go on their own paths through life while struggling with their own inner battles.
Alisha Reynolds: A spunky keep-to-herself kind of gal. She likes having someone who at least acknowledges her existence. Moonlit walks and dark chocolate are romantic but too much can sufficate her.
Brandon: A proud bi-sexual, he constantly puts up face with the other kids. Meanwhile at home his family is falling apart. Still he attempts to prevail.

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5. Alisha

I lay in my bed crying my heart out. The last I wanted was to have a criminal record, but it seemed that’s where I was headed. What if he pressed charges? Or if he thought I had just broken down and would come back around for another night with him? What if he charged me with sexual harassment and physical abuse? My entire life would be ruined.

Opening up my phone, I was sure there was one person I could count on to be there for me. Brandon. He would make things right. Tell me not to worry and that he would be there with me through out every step. I couldn’t stop crying. Everything was happening too fast. Like subway fast.

9:47am-Me: Hey Brandon?

No reply. None. At all. My phone was completely blank. Maybe the boy was finally taking my advice and sleeping in. After all he did and he barely got any sleep. Or maybe he was on a date, but still he would have excused himself and answered right? Or maybe I was just being paranoid.

Sighing, I wiped my face clear of all tears and evaluated my emotional state. Fear was definitely present, annoyance at my tears, confusion, and need or want? I didn’t know what to do. My situation was pretty bleak. I was no longer a virgin (definitely a bad thing) and had just probably seriously pissed off a teacher. Then again I had a strange desire to just go back and apologize and ask to just start all over.

Then again did I want to redo everything that just occurred? All I remember was nothing but pure raw sensational- my hands had gone and started the job he had only a few hours ago. Pinching and twisting my nipples. A small moan escaped my lips causing me to pinch harder. The sensations were coming back and I knew I couldn’t stop seeing my teacher. Only he could see an end to my now endless desires.

Why did I want to go and take summer school anyways? I wouldn’t have driven myself to this situation in the first place. I could have left everything the way it was. Got ahead some other way. Take two maths next year. Either way, I wouldn’t have ended up with a sexual desire (need really) for my very handy summer school professor.

Eventually my hands started to cramp from twisting and pulling on my erect nipples through my fabric. Opening my eyes I grabbed a towel and headed to my car.

“I’m gonna go to the pool with a couple of friends.” I called to my mother.

Hands shaking, I drove all the way back to the school. Yes! It was still open. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I walked in. I needed an excuse, but then again didn’t I already have one? My teacher didn’t complete his job. I needed to be further educated.

“You’re back?” His rough voice made my skin crawl with anticipation. Turning around I saw him standing there. Disappointment must have been obviously displayed across my face because his frown straightened into a slightly dangerous smile.

It was that smile, that sense of danger, which decided everything for me. Mr. Goldfish stood in the classroom with a small cut on his forearm. I instantly felt guilty and dropped my stuff. Walking up to him, I caressed the cut before looking into his eyes.

Those deep brown gorgeous eyes stared back. Taking the initiative, I pulled his head closer to mine and kissed him. When our tongues touched, I was the happiest girl in the world.

“I was scared.” I murmured against his lips.

His hands found the small of my back again. This time I knew we were right. He was right. We were made for each other. I deepened the kiss, hungry for more. I just couldn’t get enough of his mouth, of his kisses, of his everything.

“I won’t harm you.”

I believed him. I had no reason not to (right?). Both my hands were on his face, holding it in position just to make sure I wasn’t going to lose him. His left hand pulled off my shirt and I once again fell in love with his touch.

This is what I came here for. Our tongues danced together in a wild tango, his hands setting me on a higher pedestal than before (not that I minded). My boobs were exposed and his grip on them surpassed my own by thousands. I moaned in such pleasure that I couldn’t contain myself.

Arching my back, I exposed my breasts further to him willingly. His mouth met my left nipple and his tongue slowly traced the outer edge. I started shaking slowly. Damn he felt so good.

Unbuttoning my pants, I did my best to step out of them without disrupting the lusty dream he was creating just by using his tongue to caress my raised bud. Then I stepped out of my underwear. I was surprisingly impatient. The desire he had stirred in me had come back twice as strong.

“Please.” I begged.

Gently, he laid me down on the floor. Guiding my hands together, he held them there before taking two police chains and chaining me to a desk. Fear only heightened me more. I tugged against them, falling quickly in love with my situation.

Panting, I dared to look at him. Damn he was glorious. The man was once again bare, but this time I wasn’t afraid. I wanted him to come and take control. Bring me to a screaming ecstasy. Bending down on his knees, I saw him spread my knees and put his head near my vaginal opening.

One flick of his tongue. That is all I needed. Immediately I bucked and reared into his face. One soon turned into full on sucking, and that just put me over the edge. I didn’t know where I was, but I did know I didn’t want to ever come down.

Moaning, I used my legs and locked him between me. His warm tongue constantly driving me insane. I could feel myself tighten up, prepare for the height that I so long desired.

That’s when he stopped. He unwrapped my legs and sat straight up. Yearning for him, I whined out his name, “Mr. Goldfish, please.”

“Call me Josh.” That seriously seductive voice only put me into a far more needier predicament. I needed him, had to have my release, now. Still he sat there, watching me whine and cry out for him. Tugging at the chains, I longed to replace his tongue with my fingers in order to finish the job.

A soft chuckle rewarded my huge effort to get to the finish. Josh bent over me and adjusted the chains so that my arms were in a painful position until he turned me all the way over. I could hear him breath, and exhale in a sound that could be mistaken as a growl.

Sharp pains greeted my ass as a ruler came smack down hard on me. Instantly I cried out, but surprisingly not in pain. I cried only in the fact that he wouldn’t shove the ruler up me so fast that THEN I would cry. But he didn’t. Instead it came down on my ass.

“Josh please! Don’t make me wait. I want to cum. Please. I need you so badly!” I cried out in pure pleasure and aggravation.

Another growl was my response, and I found myself becoming more attracted to his beastly side. It was more dangerous and definitely arousing. I couldn’t help but do my best to meet the ruler half-way. I needed the pain.

“You were a bad girl! And bad girls don’t get good rewards!” He screamed at me before slamming the ruler down on the middle of my spine.

That actually did hurt (not in a good way). I cried out and let my head drop. The pain was immense and all arousing thoughts were chased away by it. I didn’t come here for this. No, I came to apologize and prove to him that he was right.

“I’m sorry!” I screamed, but still the ruler was relentless. It pounded and pounded, tearing away at my flesh. I cried furiously to no end. It seemed like I wasn’t going to please him any further and that by coming back I only proved to be a weak submissive. But I wanted to show that. I wanted to be HIS submissive. To feel his pulsing cock beat my pussy till there was no end.

After what seemed like hours (probably only a few minutes really) of his ruthless pain, I was granted a relief. His warm body lay on top of mine as I cried into the floor.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” He sounded genuine as he traced circles into my back.

Eventually the pain subsided and I once again found myself relaxed into his arms. I (for a reason I cannot fathom) believed it was my fault. I should have trusted this man earlier and instead I hurt him. It was my punishment, a punishment I deserved. Though I should have received worse. I cut him, caused him to bleed, but yet I was not cut. I was merely bruised.

“Why didn’t you continue?” I ask falling into a peaceful trance. I didn’t want to be aroused for that was just exhausting, but I didn’t want to deal with pain again. I was perfectly comfortable laying here under him. I could fall asleep. In fact I would if he hadn’t gotten up and unchained my hands.

"Because I never wanted to hurt you."

“Wha-?” I started to question but then I noticed that the room had been noticeably darker.

“Here’s your clothes.” He sighed. He refused to even look at me. Taking the articles, I slowly got dressed, reluctant to leave.

Once I was finally dressed, I took one look back at this wonderful man. At Josh, MY Josh. I was his and he was mine. I wouldn’t forget today, nor did I want to. After everything we’ve shared and gone through. All in one day. It was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore.

I attempted to give him one last kiss but he turned his head away, as if he were disgusted by me. A feeling I wasn’t used to. Looking down I walked out of the room and through the empty hallways. The air outside brought a chilly reality.

I was a selfish teenage girl who expected too much from an honorable man. I shouldn’t have cut him earlier. Maybe things would have been different. Shaking my head I entered my car for the third time that day. Where I was going to go was not known to me.
The car purred to itself as I revved my engine. Changing gears I drove out of the parking lot. I wasn’t containing any sure-fire destination. My mind was a white sheet of nothingness. Where was a girl like me to go? To her best friend’s house? He wouldn’t even answer his phone and even I wasn’t going to interrupt something as important as a date for Brandon. It’s not like we were dating.

Brandon and I dating? The thought was slightly plausible. It brought back what seemed like an old memory. That kiss from five days ago. How did I feel about that now? I mean what about Mr. Goldfish. Those were two completely different kisses, but I had to admit I liked both of them extremely.

Brandon’s kiss was soft and tender. Sweet and gentle. (Flashback!!!) He and I were stuck together from years of being friends and that kiss could have just made our relationship stronger. So why did I run away. I guess it was the same reason as today. I am a whore who just didn’t realize it yet. I ran because I was completely and utterly scared of what could happen if I allowed the situation to continue. The only difference was that I wasn’t as scared anymore today.

John’s kiss was a completely different story. His contained a power that I wanted. Something that kept me going. The kiss between him and I led us to far more complicated but not so complicated things. Originally that’s what scared me in the first place. I didn’t want to go that far with anybody. Hell I was still in high school!
Now I wasn’t afraid. I had the same that John did within me. He helped me realize that I had nothing to fear. I was completely unstoppable. There was only one thing standing in my way, how was I to choose between my best friend and the one who opened an entire new world for me?

Slamming the breaks, I stopped myself from speeding straight through a red light. Someday, and that would have to be soon, I would need to decide. Decide a lot of things really. What I would do about Brandon and I. What I would do about John and I. What I would do about my life.

My head was in the clouds. Not the big puffy ones where people go to daydream. I was in limbo, both puffy and storm clouds tugging and stripping me of any emotion. It was a mindless decision to press my foot to the gas pedal.

The trees and clouds passed by. The world was just another stage. Another place for me to put on my big girl pants and act out the face that everyone wants to see. The entire ‘I’m completely happy’ act. Yea, I was used to it. So was my dad. He would ask what’s wrong but I still shut him out. Not only did I have the stress of finding my mom but now I had sexual conflicts dealing with two completely different infatuations of mine. I was a mess.

When my car finally stopped, I looked around to see my destination. Funny. It was an old church. (I’m talking Cathedral old). Tall pillars went up to the sky. Moss clung to the inside corners and crevices. At the roof’s vertex stood a really cool cross. Windows were filled with protestant images. So what was a girl like me doing here?

I honestly had no idea. Dropping my things into the passenger seat, I gently pressed my forehead onto my steering wheel so as not to honk my horn (didn’t want to be rude or anything at a holy place such as this). I had started to receive a small headache and silently sent a prayer up to God for relief. It was one last thing that I needed- a seriously major migraine.

I know some people may think that I am overly dramatic but (excuse my French) I don’t give a shit. There were worse people out there in worse situations. I had a right to complain, and so did they. (Freedom of Speech says ‘hi’). Then it clicked in my head. I didn’t make the decision to come here. My car didn’t have a mind of its own. I mean I’m definitely not a super religious person, but I know when SOMEONE (aka God) gives me a helping hand. Right now, I seriously didn’t doubt that I needed it too.

Groaning, I opened my car door and stepped out reluctantly. I didn’t really want to be shunned and told how ‘off track’ I had become but obviously that was what I was here for (wasn’t it?). Walking up the steps, I could feel a huge weight lifted off my shoulders (literally!). I needed to do this, but that didn’t mean it was any less scary.

The church looked huge the nearer I got to it. More like it wasn’t trying to intimidate me, but instead I was totally intimidated. Just the mere size of this holy building. I felt ready to throw up and go home. Finally I reached the doors. I reached out a hand as if I couldn’t believe that this thing existed. Like I was the only one who could see it.

My hand came in contact with the old cherry oak. I caressed its bark with such love; I didn’t want to damage its rare and beautiful state. I could feel deep scars on the door, scars of a painful cruel past. My face went into a form of sincere sorrow.
Pulling on the old bronze handle, I opened it. Dust fell down and I did my best not to sneeze (though sadly I didn’t succeed at this). It was obvious that I was the first to enter this place for many years. But that didn’t make it any less charitable nor holy. A solemn tear fell down my cheek (like I hadn’t done enough crying in one day).

I don’t know how to explain the feeling that was pulsing through me. I knew I had sinned. Messed up huge. I couldn’t change what had been done. But I could hope for the best right? What was best for me? Only one person knew that, and He had one hell of a way to say that we needed to “converse”.

Finally I crossed into the prayer room and kneeled before the statue. Man you had to give these people credit for their devotion. His statue was dead on (even the penis!). This guy was perfectly modeled but without his robes (like David by Michelangelo).

Eventually I decided to get this whole thing over with. I kneeled before him and put my hands together (I’m a first time prayer so don’t judge).

I started my silent prayer.

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