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Degradation, age gap, glove kink,
semi-public sex, praise,
size kink?, swearing, etc...
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"Ugh- Fuck!" you groaned, letting your sword fall dramatically to the ground in defeat. "This is such bullshit," you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
"You're weak," a lowered crisp voice responded, long dark locks of black and grey stray hairs falling from your fencing partner's messy braid as she took her protective helmet off to scold you. "You're not shifting your weight properly, and your arms are like noodles." She grabbed your limp arm to prove her point.
"I'm doing what you taught me!" You tore your own helmet off, letting your gaze meet the darkened eyes of the woman in front of you.
"Not good enough. You're better than this," she stated. "Let's go again." She demanded, putting her helmet back on, and gripping her fencing sabre tightly with her dark, leather gloves.
Your eyes fell to her hand after hearing her leather grip, before letting out a deep breath and fixing your own helmet back onto your head. It was hard to ignore the beads of sweat along your forehead, after all, the two of you have been at this for hours.
After the sparring began again, you were quicker on your feet, planning your movements before attacking. But Joan was quicker. More advanced. More thought-through. She knew what you were doing before you even did it. Joan knew how you worked, how your brain thought.
She quickly picked up on it, and as soon as she felt your confidence grow, letting you think you were going to win, your movements becoming almost too predictable, she lunged at you. Her movements caught you off guard and you tripped over your own foot. Joan was quick to catch your hand but wasn't quick enough and was pulled down with you, both of you falling with synchronized grunts.
"What the fuck was that?" You huffed, tearing your mask off once again and tossing it beside you, too shocked by your fall to realize Joan had fallen on top of you.
"It's sad, really. How I know your every thought. Every move. It's pathetic. I thought I trained you better than this. To lead with your body, not with your mind. Your body knows best." Her own mask flew elsewhere, gloved hands sitting just beside your head as she talked down to you.
"Maybe I just need a better teacher," you seethed, gritting your teeth and letting out a much needed sigh.
"Or maybe you just need another lesson," she sternly stated, using a hand to undo the velcro holding her top together to allow herself breathe easier.
Joan caught the glimpse you stole from her neck to her chest that were coated in small beads of sweat, and took it upon herself to test the waters even more. After all, she did know you better than you even knew yourself.
"You must learn to control your body. Control your thoughts." A gloved hand slipped to your neck, the cold, leathery feel sending a chill down your spine and your body to shiver under her touch that didn't go unnoticed. "Do you think I haven't caught onto you? Your not-so-subtle glances in my direction. That pathetic little doe-eyed look you give me when I praise you. The hunger in your eyes when I degrade you. It's quite obvious what direction your mind goes in." Her knee slid between your inner thighs, forcing a quiet moan from you. "You're liking this, aren't you, little one?"
Your breathing was shaky as you laid in awe, hyper fixating on the leathery material wrapped around your neck and the knee that pressed roughly against your core. When you didn't respond, Joan squeezed her hand on your throat tighter.
