"Morons?!" Miguel asked her, more incredulous than offended. The fight seemed to go out of him and he turned and walked to the hallway. "She calls them useless morons for sacrificing their precious time on this Earth to train and hone their skills," he declared bitterly to no one.
Lisa set her jaw in anger. "What else does one call a bunch of men running around after one ball!? I cannot believe you would rather stay here and watch a game you're not even playing, rather than come with me to the company party. You know how close I am to that promotion," She yelled after his retreating back. "After I get that promotion, we can finally buy a bigger house and go to work on having a family of our own. That was the plan, Miguel, but all you care about is soccer!"
Lisa could hear Miguel muttering in the hallway. He kept repeating the word close in a different intonation each time. Between numerous spanish swear words she could just make out him mentioning to himself her competitors. True, they had seniority over her, and they both landed whale sized accounts recently, but that was not going to deter Lisa one little bit. Her angry musings were interrupted by Miguel returning, not with a counterargument, but with a roll of duct tape. She rolled her eyes and asked impatiently, "What do you intend to do with that?"
"I'm going to teach you a lesson, a lesson you'll never forget," he hissed, while his face was twisted into a mask of anger. "I'm going to teach you to respect the effort and sacrifice of others, and not just be obsessed with your precious, little plans," said Miguel, approaching.
Lisa was struck dumb with fear and before she could react, Miguel grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her around, pinning her arm behind her back. He grabbed the shoulders of her business suit and pulled the jacket down to hold her arms in place. "Unhand me," yelled Lisa and began to struggle.
Miguel laughed at her choice of words. Lisa struggled to break free, but he bent her over the back of the couch without much effort. He unzipped her skirt and pulled it down. Lisa was shocked, and quite a bit scared, at this turn of events. Miguel was never anything but considerate, and here he was manhandling her and ripping her fanciest power suit off of her. A small part of her responded warmly to this display of alpha male dominance, but she buried it behind an angry tirade.
Miguel, unimpressed by her screams and threats, took off her jacket. He flipped her over the back of the couch and grasped her by the ankles. He ripped her hose off and tossed her shoes aside. Lisa saw a chance to break free and she twisted and rolled away from Miguel's powerful hands. She landed into a crouch and took off at a run towards the stairs.
Miguel was faster than her and he blocked off her escape, grabbing her by the shirt. Lisa was now in the grips of panic and she flailed her limbs wildly to prevent the bigger man from grasping her firmly. Fear at Miguel's sudden violent outburst gave her the power to break free from his grasp and she ran to the kitchen. Miguel grabbed her by the shirt and it tore off her, buttons flying.
Lisa slammed the kitchen door shut behind her. She briefly considered picking up the phone and calling for help, but that would take too long. Picking up a knife was the last thing she wanted to do. As much as Miguel scared her right now, she was far more scared of allowing things to escalate further. There were only two options in her mind; run to a neighbor and wait for Miguel to calm down on his own, or stay and calm him down right away. She had never seen him so mad before in her life.
Lisa knew most women who died a violent death did so at the hands of their lovers, not some stranger in some dark alley, somewhere. When she was young, thoughts of her own mortality made her wet between the legs. They would make her seek out male company. Her favorite fantasy was one where she was naked and tied up at the mercy of some kind of conqueror, begging him to take her as his worthless slave, rather than kill her. She would masturbate imagining that she was lifting her hips in offering to the dangerous, anonymous man that now held the power of life and death over her. She would imagine all she knew in her life was destroyed and gone, parents, school, friends and neighbors. There would be no one left to judge her, so she could let go of any and all inhibitions and climax furiously. As she grew up, she found Miguel, and felt safe in his arms for the first time. Now fears of any kind made her seek him out for some tender loving.
Miguel was a kind and loving man, for his part, it was only his favorite European football club that could disturb the otherwise unflappable and tender giant. Now that giant was stripping her like a rag doll. She took off to the other door out of the kitchen and into the hallway, but Miguel was suddenly there.
She couldn't stop and slammed into him bodily with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. Miguel didn't even flinch. He picked her up effortlessly and set her down on the kitchen counter. Lisa's vision was swimming as she desperately tried to catch her breath. She wanted to yell uncle and let him stay and watch the game.
"What a stupid thing to have such a terrible fight over," she thought. "I can just change my clothes and go without him, make an excuse and handle my competition at the party all alone. This is so silly. He hasn't really hit me and we can make up without a hitch on my end, if he'd just let me catch my breath and speak."
Miguel duct taped her mouth shut. Lisa's eyes pleaded for mercy and reason. Her heaving chest caught Miguel's eyes, and he ripped off her bra. Her arms came up to protect her modesty. She suddenly felt naked and exposed. This man was not her beloved Miguel, this was a stranger in her apartment, ogling her naked flesh.
Miguel grabbed her wrists and again twisted her around, pinning her arms behind her back. Lisa finally slowed her breathing enough to start to moan. Kicking Miguel was out of the question. If he hit her back, he would, even inadvertently, cause severe damage. Plus, a hitting match was not one she felt their relationship could ever recover from.
He duct taped her forearms together across her back, and dragged her to the living room. He set her down on the floor and shook an accusatory finger at her face. "Now, you behave and cooperate," he nodded to the roll of duct tape he held up in front of her eyes, "or there will be consequences."
Lisa had no idea how she was meant to cooperate, or with what, so she just lay there, breathing deep through her nose. Miguel gently lifted her ass off the rug and took off her panties. He paused and looked at her pussy for an instant. Lisa's face turned bright red as she realized he was seeing how aroused the brief scuffle left her. Being tied up after a physical fight reminded her of intimate fantasies long forgotten. A drop of hot juices was leaking down the crack of her ass. To Lisa's consternation, the sight of her engorged pussy left Miguel largely unaffected and he proceeded to duct tape her ankles to one another at a ninety degree angle. Her knees were wide apart and she could no longer close her legs to protect her modesty.
Miguel picked her up and set her down on the couch, belly down. He walked off where she could not see him, no matter how much she craned her neck. Lisa was nervously listening around for any sound. When the TV turned on, she nearly jumped out of her skin. The channels whooshed by, until a Spanish one came up.
"He's going to watch the game," Lisa thought balefully, "while I am duct taped right next to him. What a douche!" Still, she was quite relieved he apparently calmed down. After the game, probably even during, he would start to feel guilty and let her go. They would each apologize to the other, have great makeup sex and put this night behind them. The adrenaline rushing through her veins certainly put her in the mood for some rough fucking.
Lisa heaved a great sigh of relief and felt her erect nipples rubbing across the fabric of the couch. It was a delightful touch, but Lisa worried that her juices might be leaking and staining the cushions. The hosts on TV kept jabbering on in Spanish, which annoyed her, because she couldn't make anything out. Miguel's first language was Spanish, so the volume was turned up for his benefit. The loudness of the TV was irrelevant, the walls muffled any noise, even if she was not gagged, she could not be heard screaming by the neighbors.
After a few minutes, Miguel sat down on the couch and dragged Lisa until her belly was in his lap. He set down a small mirror on the table and she could see his eyes in it. She craned her neck and looked up at him questioningly.
"Watch the game, darling," he commanded, "or else..." He left the threat unsaid, but Lisa's heart once again started racing. Would he really hurt her if she disobeyed? She turned her face away from him and saw that the soccer players were lined up on the grass pitch and waited for something.
It seemed to her that an eternity passed while the anthems were played and everyone shook hands with each other. Finally each team took one half of the pitch and two guys stood in the circle with the ball.
Miguel's hands came down on her shoulders and he leaned down to plant a kiss on the back of her neck. Lisa moaned appreciatively and shuddered in delight. The wait kept her turned on, as she didn't know what Miguel would do next, and that added an element of danger to her predicament.
"Maybe it's time," thought Lisa. "Maybe I should tell Miguel of my dirty little fantasies. I'm planning to have his children, why shouldn't I tell him everything? Here he is, keeping me bound up to watch a game, he must be into this type of thing too." Lisa was glad her legs were immobilized apart or she would be rubbing her thighs together right about now.
"Here we go," said Miguel as they started to kick the ball around on the TV. "Your lesson has begun." He rubbed her arms up and down. Lisa closed her eyes and enjoyed the touch. She let out a muffled yelp when he tangled a hand in her hair and twisted her face towards the TV. She saw his angry eyes in the small mirror. "Watch the game, or I will only teach you with one hand." His eyes lifted back to the game before he added, "It's for your own benefit."
Lisa turned her eyes to the screen, but the game made no sense to her at all. The guys on TV kept kicking the ball to and fro, near the center of the field and Miguel alternated between tenderly stroking her back and not touching her at all. One of the men on the screen, wearing a light blue jersey and white shorts got the ball and started to run down the side of the field in a way that reminded Lisa of a touchdown play in American football.
