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A Talent For Death

The Last Master

"One more time. I know your tired, but the best never rest. Freestyle. Come back to centre after each, I wanna see you move." Sweat ran in rivulets down her face. "Seumul!"

Bowing to her master, she began. Visualizing each set as an encounter with one of many individuals. Pulling her fear and anger to her, she felt the reality of her training. All of her strength focused each time on the opponent that just might kill, mane, violate or torture her. Or all four if she was unlucky.

Her skin was maroon with exertion, and her heart beat neared stroke level. She bowed to her master, then lay flat on the floor to relax and meditate after the hard workout. She visualized soft clouds drifting through a light blue sky. Breathing slow and deeply. "Ok, Master Pall I'm ready. You're going to have your work cut out for you tonight." She got to her feet and preceded to the locker room. Agile she hopped up on to the massage table where she waited face down.

Master Pall was silent as he loosened and kneaded each muscle group. "Yikes," she blurted. He pressed on it lightly, "yeah, that's the spot." Massaging the affected muscle very gently, then the surrounding muscle much more forcefully. "Could do my scalp too, I think I have the makings of a headache?" She focused her mind on each touch willing each bunched muscle to succumb to his handling.

"Ok sit, I want you to hydrate before moving on." He handed her the water bottle in a practised manoeuvre. "Good work tonight. Though your form is still loose. I still don't understand why don't compete." Master Pall smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

Sitting on the table sipping her electrolyte thoughtfully. "Master Pall, since this is our last meeting for the foreseeable future I'll tell you a couple of things: my name isn't Ella, and I'm not training for sport but for combat. One more thing, Master Pall I will never forget your teachings. I'll carry them with me always."

Master Pall, "hand me the water bottle and we'll resume." When he reached her pectorals, he let out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'm ready this time, I'm focused." He massaged circles into her chest, "oh damn!" She giggled and snorted uncontrollably. Folding weakly into herself. "Sorry, Master. I can't help I'm ticklish. I try, really."

"You better hope none of your opponents try massaging your chest. You'll be completely helpless. Relax, just your neck and shoulders left."

Once on her feet again Ella stretched slowly luxuriating in a wonder a good massage brings. "Master Pall," she reached for his hands. "You have taught me so much, given me so much that I never will be able to thank you enough. But I'd like to try." Letting go off his hands, she started to undress. "I am no longer your student, join me for a shower. I must smell like the Thames." Her towel and toiletries waited for her on the bench.

The shower hissed and streamed. Releasing her hair from sweatband and scrunchy, his hands caressed her sides deliciously. She turned her back to the spray rinsing her hair, drips rolled down her face all the while. "Thank you for joining me Marc." He grabbed her shampoo led her out of the spray and kissed her as he washed her hair. Ella's hands where free to caress his compact body, each rippling muscle a gift to her senses. They took it in turns washing and exploring each other. This was certainly a fond farewell. "Don't hold back." She fastened her mouth on his. The impact jarred a yelp from her. Sighing with pleasure she flexed her muscles in rhythm with his thrusts. Marc gasped in her ear when he released. Easing her legs down from his waist he caught his breath while she kissed him. Turning off the shower tap Marc smiled at her. "When you come back I'll give you the other half of that."

Ella smirked at him, "incentive for me to return. Thank you." She looked very serious, "I will return when I'm done." She hugged him close.

"And when you do, you'll tell me your name." She assented.