Lennard sighed as he slowly, lost in thought, pushed close the door that said 'Coaches'. He took his time to turn around, walk to the bench of the dressing room. At least, he thought, Lara had been disqualified soon enough from the competition so he had this room—shower included—to himself. For a little while, anyway.

Sitting down on the bench, he hid his head in the hood of his gym's signature hoodie, pulling it down as if to veil his face. He let out a deep breath through his nose and sighed, “Gaaah, what am I just supposed to do with her?” into his hands.

He went through her fight for the thousandth time.

***

"Fighters ready?“ the referee asked rhetorically, his hand between the fighters. "Shake hands... Fight!“

As soon as the ref had removed his hand, Lara stepped forward throwing two immediate jabs to her opponent's face, followed by a punch in the stomach, a dodge to the left, a left uppercut to the kidney, using her body's momentum as a preparation for a right hook straight to the plexus. Only this last blow mattered; the others were just preparation to force the adversary to open her defense and leave the body open.

She had trained this simple, yet effective drill enough to etch it into her reptile brain—a guaranteed win since a first hit in the plexus left a discouraging first impression in any fight. Psychological warfare. Only, this time, her rival came prepared: instead of blocking the first two, usually surprisingly fast, jabs, she dodged them easily and countered Lara's forward movement with a punch directly to her nose.

Not having foreseen this turn of events and having practically walked into that punch herself, Lara's ego took the crack she'd planned on inflicting on her combattant. Keeping her poker face, however, she decided to play dirty—really dirty. Anything to win a fight. It was the ticket to the world cup, after all.

"Stay focused, Lara!“ Lennard shouted. "We've been over this! We've studied her! Stick to our tactics!“

Why had she chosen her habitual start? Hadn't they established on a long rigmarole how this adversary required less predictable combinations? Lennard began to feel a bit nervous when Lara took another easy hit, putting her two points behind.

"What are you doing, Lara?“ Lennard asked, audibly irritated. "Stay focused. Do as we've trained!“

When he looked into her eyes, he knew she was deliberately ignoring his advice, having a scheme of her own in mind. She was studying her opponent, waiting for the right moment to pull her tricks as inconspicuously as possible.

Since her rival seemed so dominant and much to Lennard's lament, the first round wasn't even halfway over as the fight seemed already decided, dangerously close to technical K.O.—in disfavor of Lara. She was making it easy, too easy. Lennard couldn't believe his eyes when he saw how easily his best student was getting defeated.

Suddenly, he saw Lara throw one very characteristic jab of hers. One so easy to dodge, leaving her entire left side of her body exposed—an explicit invitation for a counter punch. Yet, when she retracted her arm incompletely, leaving her elbow in front, even slightly pushing her shoulder forward for resistance and to reach further, her opponent took the elbow right to the eye when shuffling forward to counter. Only Lennard who's seen, and hated, Lara doing so on many occasions knew this move had by no means been by accident and only served the purpose of hurting the opponent.

Her adversary stumbled back, shocked by receiving an elbow to the face. The referee immediately interrupted the round and told Lara to turn around—standard procedure when a fight is interrupted because one fighter's suffered an incident. Lara did so, a wide smirk on her face as she stood in front of her coach, her back to her rival who was now fighting against bursting in tears, trying to convince the referee it had been foul play with a heavy, whiny voice.

The round went on a few minutes later and ended as an easy, yet tight win for Lara. Her adversary, since bristling with anger and frustration, made it way too simple for Lara to dodge and counter the little more than tentative and rather uncontrolled kicks and punches.

***

Lennard raised his head from between his hands and started to undress. He needed a shower. A long, steamy shower. And some time to revisit his prime student's fight—and where he had failed her as her coach, or worse even, as her lover in his dreams. Was this the punishment for overtly ogling her?

***

During the first break, her victorious grin while stepping to the edge of the ring told Lennard she was not really aiming at winning this fight at all cost anymore; she was primed to be a disobedient student and make him look bad in front of the referees and the audience.

"What the hell, Lara?“ Lennard hissed at her, trying to keep his voice down. "Do you wanna get disqualified? Do you know how this makes me look?“

"Are you mad now, Daddy?“ she shot back in a naïve, childish voice low enough only he could hear. „I'm so sorry, Daddy.“ Naturally, the mouth guard slurred her words and emphasized her infantile tonality even more.

Lennard couldn't believe his ears. Her words made him furious but he had to keep it together in order not to lose his face in front of the national referees.

"Pull yourself together, you hear me?“ he scolded his student. "And will you just wipe that smirk off your face while I'm talking to you?“

She closed her mouth but Lennard could tell she was just suppressing a burst of laughter. "Just fight fair on the next round, okay? Her morale's broken. You can make this. Just focus, you hear me?“

She approached her face to his ear. The faint breeze of her whispering against his neck sent shivers down his spine. "Or what, Daddy?“ she sheepishly asked. "Will you punish me?“

He gulped as she stepped back with a sultry expression on her face. She followed the referee's call for the second round, turned around and stepped back to the middle of the ring.

***

Lennard took the shower stall furthest away from the benches, hoping the relatively remote location from the door would provide enough privacy and solitude in the event someone else was to come in. As the competition was still in full swing, this was rather likely.

He adjusted the stream to a comfy heat and just stood under the rain of water. Arms stretched out, he rested the weight of his body on his hands against the wall and looked to the floor, letting the water fall from his nose and chin. He could hardly breathe from the amount of water running over his face. He sighed loudly enough to hear his voice resonate against the tiles of the stall. Why did she have to be like that? Why was she being so hard or him? So disobedient? And why did she have to have such large tits and such a luscious ass? ...and that hip swing in those loose synthetic fighting pants when she was walking back into the ring...

***

During the second round, her opponent had somewhat gained control over her shock and aggression. It was still obvious that she was bristling with anger but she was a lot calmer than she'd been before. However, Lara, maintaining her constant provocative smile, even when punched directly in the face, only fueled her adversary's frustration.

To that, she added a few dirty, albeit legal, moves until for a reason Lennard failed to understand, she decided to go full-dirty despite her easy advantage. It started with a left hook which she obviously targeted to wrap her arm around her rival's neck in order to push her down against a right uppercut—a red rag for the referees.

The match was immediately interrupted and Lara penalized. One point was taken from her score which was insignificant, given she was ahead by six points. It earned her and, to his greatest chagrin, Lennard a few questioning glances from the referees as well as the audience. He hadn't taught her to fight like that but did these people care? Being her coach, he was as good a scapegoat as anyone. For all they knew, he was the one teaching his students these tricks.

During the five-seconds interruption, Lara threw her coach a knowing sneer. She was not fighting to win anymore, she was provoking him and only he could see it.

Lara's next move was to raise her knee to feign a roundhouse kick but instead, she thrust her hips forward to park her knee unerringly into her rival's groin. She wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. Groin guard or not, this was extremely painful and was highly illegal. The fight was interrupted anew and Lara was penalized again; this time with two minus points. Additionally, last warning before disqualification plus a short, strongly phrased lecture on sportsmanship.

The murmurs were getting louder. Lennard saw people throwing him evil glances, whispering to each other, coaches from other schools shaking their heads while Lara turned the fight into a cat-and-mouse game. She took advantage of her adversary's renewed frustration, aggression and the loss of control that it brought along. Aptly, she kept moving, always out of reach and easily scoring single points here and there by placing well-timed jabs.

End second round. Match almost settled with just one point short of a technical K.O. in favor of Lara. Her ticket to the world cup seemed secure.

***

The shower worked wonders on Lennard's mood, allowing him to relax a bit. Yet, his mind was still fully consumed by the events and questions about what to do with his student. She could have won so easily. The third round had gone so well: started off with a clinch, both immediately let go and Lara landed a perfect jab on her opponent's forehead.

Technical K.O.; match stopped. The referees had ordered a stop, at least, but Lara had just ignored it and kept throwing her punches at the poor girl taking a protective fetal position. With that, Lara's chances at an international tournament had been thrown away, immediate disqualification being the result.

Suddenly, Lennard felt something poking his shoulder. Startled, he turned around to almost jump in shock and shriek like a girl. In the same stall, just half a foot away from him stood Lara, the girl of his wildest dreams—and most recent nightmares—naked in all her glory.

He gasped, took a step back and winced again when feeling the cool tiles against his shoulders. Mouth agape, he drank in her beauty: her large breasts, the luscious curve of her midriff, her hips that even seen from the front held the promise of a derrière men—and some women—were drooling over.

He closed his mouth to gulp but it fell open again automatically.

"Are you mad at me, Daddy,“ he heard her playful voice ring in his ear. He desperately wanted to say something but the sound of the door of the dressing room being flung open cut him off.

He took Lara by her arm and pulled shut the polyacrylate curtain to obstruct the view into the shower stall. She spun around and snuggled her back against his belly, her butt firmly pushed to his groin.

"You in here, Lennard?“ he heard a coach of another gym call.

"Yeah. Shower. Why?“ Lennard shouted, pulling Lara close with one arm right under her boobs he'd worshipped in his dreams.

She started moving her buttocks against his growing erection that was trying to snake its way between her round buns. She wiggled her posterior invitingly in order to get maximum friction. As she gasped just a bit louder than necessary, Lennard held his hand over her mouth and pulled her head backward to hiss into her ear, “Keep it down, will you?”

Lara managed a faint giggle under his palm as the faceless voice could be heard directly in front of the shower stall. “You alright in there, Lennard?”

Lennard quietly pushed Lara aside to stand out of view as he poked his head out of the curtain. “Sure, just revisiting Lara's fight.”

“Yeah,” his colleague replied. “Going home early today, yes? Whatever she thought she was doing but now she's the main topic outside.” He paused and frowned. “And so are you.”

Lennard felt a hand play with his erection. “Shit,” he tried to cover his shocked moan, more singing than actually cursing. “I just don't know what to do with...” the last word came out too high-pitched for he felt her lips on his glans. “...her!”

“You alright?” asked Lennard's friend. “You look a bit pale.”

“Yeah, the water just got cold, is all,” Lennard barely managed.

“Sure. I'll leave you. See you in the main hall later?” With that, the sudden intruder left.

Lennard looked down where he saw Lara slurping his cock into her mouth in an awkward angle so her head would not bob against the shower curtain characteristically.

“You are,” he began, then, almost singing, “iiin,” then moaning, “sooo muuuch,” then grunting as she pumped his shaft with her hand, brushing his frenulum with every stroke, “trouble!”

He turned toward her so she had better access. With a plop, she released his cock from between her lips and grinned at him. She licked her lips, then smeared the dollop of pre-cum that was oozing from the tip over her cheek.

“Are you mad at me,” she began, then ran her tongue over the underside of his shaft and gave him her puppy eyes, “Daddy?”

Lennard swallowed a lump in his throat with difficulty. This was pure kryptonite to him.

“You can slap me with your huge, manly cock, Daddy,” she uttered with sugary voice as she mockingly tapped his helmet against her cheek. “Please punish me with your cock, Daddy. I've been a bad girl,” as she wiggled with her ass and started a renewed oral assault.

In a brief moment of composure, Lennard stepped back, freeing his manhood from the grip of his student. He grabbed both her shoulders and had her stand up. He looked at her mock girly expression that she emphasized by placing the tip of her index on her lips and shrugging her shoulders. This tipped his brief moment of clarity over again and he made her turn around, pulled her hips against his groin and, while rubbing his shaft against the cleft of her luscious bottom again, landed half a dozen firm spanks on her right cheek.

With every slap, no matter how hard, came her cries of approval: “Yes! Daddy! Spank! Your! Naughty! Girl!”

Lennard couldn't believe his ears, yet at the same time, it stimulated him to more aggressive slaps. Unconsciously, his rubbing against her butt crack got more frantic too.

“Please, Daddy, put your hard, manly dick inside me,” she pleaded, still upholding her act.

He moved his hips back, grabbed his cock and, with one single, well-aimed thrust, violently pushed it all the way inside her dripping pussy.

He let his inner beast free and kept spanking her buttocks in rhythm with his every thrust, causing Lara to wince in a mixture of pain and pleasure, uttering a cacophony of moans that sounded like the lure call of the sirens in his ears.

“You want me to punish you?” he yelled at her. “Now how's this for a punishment, you insolent, disobedient brat?”

“Fuck me, Daddy. Show me I'm your naughty little slut!” she retorted in between her expressions of lust.

Suddenly, Lennard heard the dressing room door open once more. He retracted his cock from Lara's sopping wet canal and pulled her close, one hand again over her mouth while his other hand found her breasts and cupped one of them, fingers starting to play with the nipple. As before, his manhood naturally nestled between her buns. He overheard two coaches discussing but couldn't make out the words.

As the voices came closer, he had a dawning suspicion that these were two coaches done with their duty for the day and getting prepared for a shower. While his mind raced, wondering how to get out of this situation, wagering that it might be best to just remain silent, he felt Lara's hand grab his manhood and stroke it along the length of her ass cleft.

“Yeah, after this, Lennard's fighter's pretty much done for,” he heard one of the coaches say. He could hear it clearly now because, in order to hear each other over the running water, they had to speak up. “And that's really bad publicity for his school too.”

“Yeah, dude's gotta discipline that girl,” the other shot back.

“Oh, I'd so do that for him! Did you see her titties? They're massive!”

“Yeah, I'd love to have her schluck my schlong while it's firmly locked between those melons and schpritz my schmear all over them.”

“Or on her face while she's on her knees to receive the punishment for being a naughty girl.”

Both of them burst in laughter.

Lennard was fuming when he heard how they were talking about his favored student. At the same time, he felt how she kept pumping his cock with her hand. She took turns in riding his length between her pussy lips and guiding it between her cheeks where he felt the softness of her rosebud every time his tip brushed it.

“Do you think she does that on purpose to tease old Lenny?”

“Oh, I bet he's shagging her in the shower right now.”

“In your dreams, you dirty creep! But yeah, would be awesome to join them. I bet she'd love to get all her holes filled.”

“Totally. I'd so do her. Did you see those lips she's got? I'd be just happy to have her suck me off while Lenny and you double team her.”

The only thing that kept Lennard from stepping out of his stall in rage and flaunting his erection was the feeling of Lara circling her anus with the tip of his cock. She pushed her hips back, pumping his shaft to support the pressure on her tight backdoor. The vibrations that rippled through Lennard's hand that covered her mouth testified that she was enjoying both the physical sensations and the acoustic abuse by the oblivious coaches.

Lennard, in a brief instant of ecstasy, as her sphincter gave way for just his cock head, moved his hand from her lips and groped her breast harder.

“Pull my nipple, Daddy, make it hurt while you fuck my ass,” he heard her voice, not sure if it was loud enough for the coaches to hear.

“Would be awesome if she just waltzed in here buck ass naked,” the crude comments of the uninvited visitors went on.

“Oh shit! Stop it, you're gonna give me a boner, man. Would be a waste to wank that one off if she really came.”

“Keep dreaming, dude. C'mon, make it quick and I don't wanna hear a thing, yeah?”

As they kept going on about their profanities, Lennard's dock was firmly embedded in Lara's rectum. One of his hands was on her mouth again to muffle her moans and the other was flicking her clit in rhythm with his thrusts.

On the brink of his own orgasm, he braced himself to keep his voice down, hoping she would do the same. Yet, as she came to the edge herself too, he felt her teeth sink into his fingers as her body tensed and his other hand sensed a hot liquid springing from another source than the showerhead. Although she clenched around his shaft tighter than he had ever felt, the pain in his hand was stronger than the urge to spill his seed inside her. A silent scream left his throat, costing him all his self-control.

The moment she opened her jaw, Lennard retracted both his hands and pulled out.

In the meantime, the two other coaches had already stepped out of the shower and were getting dressed, still rambling about how they'd use Lara as their cum dumpster but from where she and Lennard were still standing under the running water, little more than a whisper.

He looked at his fingers that had proper dental imprints from which blood oozed. She grinned at him.

“Did your naughty little girl hurt you, Daddy?” she asked with that infantile tone that made him weak, kneeling in front of him. “You wanna cum over your naughty girl's face, Daddy?”

Lennard gave his cock the few missing strokes to orgasmic bliss as Lara was kneeling in front of him, her mouth open wide. She stretched out her tongue to receive his steamy load which came in two jets covering her face from cheek to eyebrow. For the third and last spurt, she offered her other cheek and then took hold of Lennard's shaft and squeezed the remaining, less propelled cum into her mouth.

She stood up and shared a deep, cum-lubricated French kiss with him.

Wordlessly, she stepped out of the shower, her face still plastered with his cum. Confused, Lennard took a minute or two to process what had just happened. He washed his hand as well as he could, hoping the still emanating blood would wash out the potential germs from the wound.

After turning off the water and leaving the shower stalls, he looked for Lara. She had already disappeared.

He let out a disappointed grunt. "Damn,“ he muttered to himself. "Should have played with her tits more.“