Stronger 1

Sasha's arms felt like they were made of lead. Her legs felt rubbery, so exhausted she could barely stand. She stared into the camera for a long moment, her green eyes dull with fatigue, fighting the urge to let her body sag to the floor...then she reached down and grabbed the barbell. With a swift, explosive motion, she swung it upward and dropped into a squatting position at the same time so that the full weight of the barbell rested on her shoulders.

She paused imperceptibly, desperately pushing back against the weight as it threatened to topple her onto her back. Marissa, her spotter, began to move forward, but Sasha shook her off and rose to her feet. She shifted her grip and brought her feet together slightly, then with a final thrust she jerked the barbell up over her head and brought her legs down into a lunging position. She held the bar for a full five count, her face almost as red as her hair with the exertion, before letting it fall to the padded floor with a thunderous clang.

Marissa came over and gave her a massive hug, which Sasha returned gratefully. Then Sasha turned to the webcam and gave her online audience a friendly wave. "That wraps up the training session for today," she said, "but I hope I went out with a bang. Remember, folks, you can come and see me live in San Antonio next weekend at the AFC Invitational. Come and say hi, I don't bite!" With a chuckle, she reached up and turned off the webcam, but not before blowing one last kiss to the camera. Competitive weightlifting wasn't exactly a money sport. If she had to flirt a little to get subscribers to her training sessions, she'd do it.

Marissa gave her a final thump on the back and a hearty, "Great job, Red!" before heading off to pick up her daughter. Sasha watched her head up the stairs, her pride making her wait until Marissa had closed the door before she let the exhaustion show on her face. She staggered across the basement floor, out of the corner she'd set up as a gym and over to the shower in the laundry area that had attracted her to the house in the first place. It was small, it was old, it was damp and drafty, but being able to get to her post-workout shower in less than twenty steps made it all worth it.

She took her hair out of its bun and peeled off her clothes, then stepped under the hot water. With a sigh of relief, she sagged against the wall and let the spray pound her exhausted body. Mentally, she added 'good water pressure' to the list of advantages that her cozy little house afforded; on a day like today, where she practically worked herself into unconsciousness, a good long shower was almost better than a massage. Her muscles slowly unkinked, softening under the relentless downpour until Sasha felt like she could go to sleep on the tiled floor.

Then she heard a voice behind her. "Nice job. That was...140 kilograms?" Sasha turned to see a waifish Filipina woman in a white strapless dress, looking at her from the staircase with unabashed admiration. Sasha hadn't heard her come in. She had short dark hair, styled in messy, uncontrolled spikes, and she looked like if she stood next to Sasha she might just come up to Sasha's nipples. Sasha was pretty sure she could probably lift three of the other woman stacked on top of each other.

She smiled modestly, remembering the way the barbell moved in her hands as she swung it into position. "141," she said, trying not to sound like she was bragging. "It was a personal best."

The other woman stepped closer, her smile playful and mysterious. "It's also six kilos off the world record," she said. "You could have taken silver at the Olympics with today's performance." Or maybe she just seemed mysterious because Sasha couldn't remember her name. Sasha knew she knew her-she recognized her as soon as she saw her. But her brain couldn't quite slot in the context. She wasn't one of Sasha's sponsors, she wasn't with the weightlifting conference people; she just was, full stop.

Sasha tried to brush away the compliment as easily as she brushed away the confusion about the woman's identity. "Well," she said dismissively, gesturing half-heartedly at her naked body, "I am strong." She didn't feel the need to cover up-a lifetime of practically living at the gym had pretty much gotten rid of any body-shyness she'd ever had. Showering with just one other person in the room was practically a luxury by her standards.

"Oh, you're definitely strong," the other woman said, her dark brown eyes glittering with amusement. "But you've really been pushing your limits ever since you started doing your workouts online. You saved your biggest lift for the very end, when you were at your most fatigued. Weren't you a little bit worried that you might not have anything left in the tank for that big clean and jerk?"

Sasha let out a dismissive snort that plumed out warm water from her lips. "I am strong," she said, a trace of condescension in her voice. As if she needed to be told how to do her routine by a woman who looked like she'd be lucky to lift the bar by itself. She had a spotter every time, she was being safe. The woman from...from the thing...needed to just relax a little.

"Oh, of course you're strong," the woman said, coming close enough now that the spray began to dampen the front of her dress. "But the exhaustion is always stronger in the end. No matter how much energy you may have when you start your workout, by the end your muscles are quivering, straining even to hold your body upright after all that hard, tiring exercise." She still wore that enigmatic smile the whole time she spoke, as if the idea of wearing Sasha out held nothing but delight for her.

Slightly stung by the insinuation, Sasha snapped back, "I am strong." She didn't like anyone suggesting that she didn't have what it took to make it big in the profession. She'd won prizes at dozens of local meets, proved herself to her sponsors, assembled a fan following big enough to pay the down payment on a house. She could push through any exhaustion, at least until the workout was over and it was time to give in to the fatigue for a little while. Like now, she realized, swaying in place a little under the warm, soothing water. She was definitely ready to give in right now.

"I know you're strong," the woman cooed, sounding frustratingly like she was humoring Sasha. "And your will to compete is even stronger. You're so good at pushing past those little obstacles, focusing with complete determination on achieving your goals. Once you've decided you need something, you don't let anything stand in your way, do you?"

Sasha blushed a little at the compliment. "I am strong," she said, not minding that she could hear a bit of pride in her voice. She always thought of strength as a holistic concept, just as much in the mind as in the body. The muscles lifted the weight, but the mind set the muscles in motion. Whatever the mind wanted to achieve, the body could do.

"You certainly are," the woman said, reaching into the spray to run her fingers along Sasha's biceps. "But your subconscious mind is stronger still. No matter what it is that you set your conscious will to achieve, it's ultimately your deep, unconscious desires that tell your mind what it is you want to do. Those deep needs shape your perceptions, your actions, even the narrative of your thoughts. Your conscious mind only rationalizes away the decisions your unconscious mind has made for you."

Sasha nodded. "I am strong," she said softly, as the other woman's hand glided smoothly up and down her arm. She knew that was kind of an unusual response to the woman's statement, but really, it made perfect sense in its own way. It took deep, passionate desire to achieve anything in her chosen field, and that kind of desire had to be due to inner strength. Her subconscious mind was strong, and it made her conscious mind strong, and that made her body strong. She understood it perfectly.

"Oh, yes," the other woman purred, stepping even closer. Her dress rapidly became soaked, but she didn't seem to mind. Her fingers were roaming over Sasha's body now, swirling up over Sasha's shoulders and tracing a line along her collarbone. "And all that strength is turned to directing your waking mind to think only what it needs to think, notice only what it needs to notice. To accept everything you need to accept without question. Your deep, unconscious mind is so much stronger than your fuzzy, foggy, tired thoughts, isn't that right?"

Sasha sighed, her eyes rolling back in her head as the other woman's hand traced slowly down the curve of her cleavage to cup her breast. "I am...strong," she husked out, the words melting into a low moan of bliss as another hand joined the first. Something felt strange about this whole experience, almost like she was having a dream that she couldn't wake up from; but every time she tried to think about it, her mind seemed to elide over the parts that didn't make sense and replace them with pleasure.

"You are," the woman said as she strummed Sasha's nipples with her fingers, her voice thick with lust. "But your arousal is so much stronger, isn't it? Every time you try to think, you feel those surges of pleasure overwhelming your mind, smoothing away your resistance, until you want to let your deep self direct your every desire. And your deep self wants what I want it to want. And it's too strong to resist now, isn't it?"

Sasha blinked heavily, suddenly aware that she'd simply been staring down into the other woman's eyes for longer than she could remember. It seemed so easy to keep watching, let her lazy and passive body soak up the warmth of the water and the warmth of that touch...but the word the other woman used. 'Resistance.' it struck a chord in Sasha. It reminded her of something, even if she couldn't quite get a grip on the memory. She forced herself to struggle against the tide of drifting pleasure, and made herself say, "I am strong..."

"You are strong, my beautiful girl," the other woman said, her hand trailing down to rub urgently at Sasha's surprisingly slick cunt. "But my control is stronger. You remember now, don't you? Every time, this is when you remember how helpless you are to resist me. Your deeply hypnotized subconscious mind is my ally, turning all that strength, all that power to reinforcing your surrender to my will. The more you resist, the more you tire yourself out, until the arousal and the exhaustion lead you further into my inexorable, irresistible dominion. My good, obedient, drowsy girl."

Sasha moaned involuntarily as the pleasure sapped the energy from her already leaden limbs. She remembered now, and she remembered that she always remembered only when it was too late. She remembered Lilibeth promising that her 'visualization techniques' would improve her performance, help her technique, make her more effective in every way. She remembered staring at metronomes, watching crystals, letting Lilibeth guide her mind deeper and deeper into a trance state where she felt like she could achieve anything. She remembered losing track of time, even losing track of her own thoughts as she went blank and slipped away into Lilibeth's trances. She remembered forgetting it all, every time.

Sasha struggled against the response that came to her lips, knowing that Lilibeth had implanted it, knowing that every time she said it she sank deeper into Lilibeth's control. But she was so exhausted now, her arms hanging leaden by her side, her legs rubbery with fatigue as the pleasure drained her will to stand. She slowly slumped down to her knees, Lilibeth guiding her down physically and mentally until she could feel the cool tiles against her body. Her dull green eyes gazed vacantly into Lilibeth's, staring blankly until she couldn't fight any longer.

"I am strong," she murmured, her voice a mindless monotone.

"That's right, pretty girl," Lilibeth said. "And your strength is my strength now." She pressed hard on Sasha's clit, making Sasha gasp sharply with pleasure.

"Yes Mistress," Sasha responded. Then her eyes slipped shut as the pleasure grew too strong to resist.

THE END