Elena Nearly four hours later we’re still in the gymnasium of the auto shop; to say that Mike is a drill sergeant is an understatement. Heavy breathing, lightheadedness, a parched mouth and throat, sore joints and knuckles only scrape the surface of how I’m feeling. Beneath him, I’m stuck for the umpteenth time with his forearm pushing into my neck to keep my head still, my arms are held above my head with one of his large hands; his knees on either side of my legs holding me tight with his Thor thighs. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I hate this position, but it’s one that I’m having trouble getting out of. I can hardly move, no matter how much I wiggle against him or slip my hand away, he’s bigger and stronger and tightens his grip to keep me in place. With frustration growing bo
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