Written by Konrad the Bold


The punch to my gut knocked the wind out of me. As I staggered around, struggling to stay on my feet, a strange smile comes to my pain-contorted face.

She likes me.

I feel like I'm back in elementary school where a girl would tease you to let you know she found you cute. Except, instead of teasing, this sexy goddess with the tight shirt sucker-punched me right in the solar plexus.

She dances around me like a boxer and her movements make her shirt stretch tight around the contours of her body, sometimes sliding up to reveal a little of her flat tummy. As I'm standing there like an idiot, hypnotized by the way the motion of her arms makes her tits stand out, she asks me "I didn't hit you too hard, did I?"

I manage to blubber something about being OK. She smiles and drags me onwards.


The way I met Vera was through a mutual friend who invited us to a house-warming party at his new cottage. It was one of those weeks where it never seemed to stop raining, although you never actually saw any rain. Sometimes the ground would start to dry up before nightfall and then it would be soaked again by morning, as if someone had run around with a fire hose while you slept. Most of the time it was just a fine drizzle during the day, almost a mist that seemed to settle over everything. Although there were no puddles to speak of, the moisture covered every leaf and every blade of grass in one perfect, continuous layer. Every time you walked outside water would fill your shoes and your pants would get soaked up to the level of the grass, as if you were wading through a swimming pool.

The depressing weather that left me stuck inside the cottage only added to my bad mood that day. It was obvious my "friend" had only invited me to entertain this girl so he could talk business with her father. It was equally obvious that she didn't want to be there and she wasn't interested in me, as she had just dismissed me with a curt "Hi" when I introduced myself. I decided I wasn't going to baby-sit some arrogant bitch, even is she is the only other person there who is under 40. No point forcing a conversation onto her when she was just waiting to get back to the city and go shopping. She's a beauty and she knows it, I won't follow her around like a sucker if she thinks she's too good for me.

I sat quietly through the meal, only giving out short, bored replies to the usual small talk. She said nothing to me. The other guests asked the usual questions that middle-aged people ask a young man.

There was no reason to bother the others with my grim attitude, so after I ate I put on my coat and went outside. I was going to admire the scenery I said. Having nothing better to do, I wandered toward the lake.

The wind was so strong that it sent huge waves crashing into the rocky beach and made the tiny lake seem like a stormy ocean. I stood there in the gale and the spray of the waves for a while thinking of ways to kill time. When I turned around she was coming towards me.

She was the calm centre of the universe. The wind was throwing my long hair around wildly, all over my face. Hers was tied in a perfect, tight bun. Not a single strand was being blown around. My jacket was unzipped and billowing out behind me in the wind. My shirt was flapping around.She wasn't even wearing a jacket and her shirt was wrapped snugly around her body, without even a single crease to show the effects of the gale. My jeans sucked up the water from the grass like a sponge and even my face was wet from the spray of the waves. The moisture just slid right off her stylish synthetic pants.

The way she walked let you know that she was too good to get wet. How dare the water think it has the right to touch *her*? I had to lean into the wind to keep from falling over yet she moved like the wind was going right through her. She was the calm center of the storm. She was the eye of the hurricane. While everything around her was in chaos, she was above it all, nothing could touch her.

As I stood there trying to keep my hair out of my eyes and squinting against the wind she asked me, unconcerned by the conditions, unconcerned by the fact that she had brushed me off not an hour before, if I wanted to go for a walk.

Looking at her, at her face, at her tits, at her hips, at her legs, allI could say was "Sure". We made small-talk as we headed off down some trail that seemed to lead nowhere at all. She wasn't apologetic for ignoring me before, she was still the proud princess that considered the world to be her own. At least she told me her name, which she hadn't bothered to do when I introduced myself in the cottage.


"Vera... that's Latin for truth. A pretty presumptuous name, but it suits you."

She looked at me and cocked one eyebrow, like a queen at an uppity servant. That presumptuous name and that presumptuous stare made me smile. I told her "You're a pretty classy dame, you know that?" and she got a laugh out of it.

Maybe it was because she thought I looked handsome standing outside with my hair blowing in the wind, or maybe it was because I was neither shocked by her attitude or eating out of her hand, but she seemed to warm to me. After a few hours of talking we got to the topic of sports. When I told her that I'd done some boxing she giggled and started jabbing at me. Then she came in with that sucker punch.


I manage to blubber something about being OK. She smiles and drags me by the sleeve further along the path.

This is good. This is very good. I thought her only interest in me was to entertain her until her parents were ready to go home, but she seems comfortable touching me, even if it is only to punch me or drag me long to wherever it is she's going.

I run after her and we arrive at the top of a steep drop. The path we had taken had been slowly winding its way up a mountain and now we could look down and see the cottage.

After a moment of looking down she gets bored and, yelling above the noise of the wind, tells me "Put up your dukes, tough guy". Then she starts jumping around and jabbing at me, completely unconcerned about being at the edge of the drop.

She throws some playful jabs at my shoulders and some hooks at my ribs. By playful I mean she's smiling when she does it, not that the punches are weak. She may be a girl and she may be weaker than me but even a good boxer would have a tough time defending himself without throwing some punches to make his opponent back off. Her fists are coming in all from all sides I'm edging dangerously close to the drop trying to avoid them. Since I can't hit her I have no choice but to lunge forward and grab her by the wrists. We laugh and wrestle with each other as I try to pin her arms to her sides. I almost manage to drag us back towards the safety of flat ground when she pretends to fall and pulls me down on top of her. We roll over each other again and again as we slide down the slope over the wet grass. She giggles like a maniac and holds on to me while I frantically try to point my feet downhill to avoid getting impaled on anything.

Lying there on my back, with half her body draped sideways across mine,I can feel her breasts slide slowly across my chest as we both carefully try to shift our weight without sliding further down the slope. I can smell the sweat on her face and neck as she holds on to me, breathing heavily, trying to find some solid footing. The sensation of her body rubbing against mine is turning me on.

When she's finally standing I sit up, holding myself up with one hand and shift my coat to cover up my raging hard-on. She takes one look at me, and I'll never forget this moment, she grabs me by the shoulders, looks straight into my eyes, smiles, and kicks my arm out from under me!

I rolled down the hill doing so many backwards summersaults that I don't even know when I stopped because the world still seems to be spinning around me.

I lie flat on my back, the wind knocked out of me yet again, barely able to move and I feel like I'd bruised every conceivable part of my limbs. Before long, she appears and without warning sits down on me, straddling my chest. All I can do is grunt. Between the warmth of her ass on my abdomen and the way she's absent-mindedly running her nails across my chest I can feel myself getting hard again. I hold still and breathe shallowly because anytime I move bolts of pain from my bruised ribs shoot across my body.

Lying there in pain, I once again notice how beautiful she is. Her face is hovering thoughtfully over me, framed by the dark clouds in the sky and the occasional leaf caught in the gale. Above her I see birds, frozen in the sky. No matter how hard they flap their wings the powerful wind keeps them stuck in place, perfectly still against the outline of her head.

Like the birds by the wind, I've been rendered completely helpless by this "little girl". What does she do? She reaches down and pulls her shirt off! Then she goes for my jacket and shirt. The jacket comes off easily but the shirt takes a bit of tugging to get over my shoulders and then she just leaves it pulled over my face. If this is what she wanted she certainly didn't have to beat me senseless to do it! I wiggle my shoulders and pull the shirt off my face and over my head. By this time she's already undoing my pants. I quickly help her pull them down and then she crawls over to my head and whispers, as if to a co-conspirator, "Don't worry, I'm on the pill". Like that's my main concern right now...

Chaos ensues.

Savage love. Intense pain and even more intense ecstasy. Frenzied fucking. Every one of her slender fingers has a razor-sharp fingernail. Out of every pretty hand she can make a fist. Behind each of her hot, red lips is a row of neatly-aligned incisors and canines. Wolf-like canines that pierce the muscles of my shoulder as she climaxes.


After a while of lying on my back and panting I began to look around. Like a warrior after battle, I assessed my wounds. The blood oozing from the dual holes my shoulder made it look like it was attacked by an over-eager vampire that couldn't find my neck. And Vera? Vera was snuggled up against my other shoulder and calmly running her fingers through my hair.

That day, after I recovered from the most intense experience in my life, we talked. Well, mostly she talked. The sun had come out for the first time that week and combined with the humidity had suddenly created stifling conditions. The after-effect of the adrenaline that had rushed through my body made it feel distant and light. The sun beating down on my face made me feel drunk.

The whole situation was surreal: the two of us sprawled naked in the grass, the hot sun burning our skin, the crushing weight of the humidity pressing us into the ground, too weak to move. Nothing remained of the gale-force winds. Not even the slightest breeze to cool our bodies. I don't remember noticing the wind stop. I don't remember much from that day, it seems like a dream.


When I got back to the city I gave Vera call.

"Hello." her voice says.It's a statement, not a question. She doesn't say "Hello?" like any normal person would. As if she's not asking who's calling, but telling you `you may speak'."You're a very non-standard girl" I tell her with a laugh.

She laughs. The sound of her laugh reminds me of her lips. Her lips remind of her teeth.

She shows up at my door, and I notice her lips are already red with excitement. She cracks a smile as if it were a whip and adrenaline shoots into my bloodstream. With her cute shorts and backpack she looks like a schoolgirl.

She tells me she is, in fact, in high school.


As we settle down on the couch I wonder if this is legal. She begins to nuzzle me and run her mouth along my neck, distracting me from the finer points of the law.

With a laugh she tells me not to worry. Sucking my earlobe into her mouth she tells me she won't tell anyone... as long as I don't misbehave. She clamps down on my ear with her teeth. Softly at first, but with slowly increasing pressure. Her teeth let me know that she's got me by the balls. As she squeezes harder I gasp and she lets go of my ear.

Smiling, she tells me "Have a little faith in me. Besides, even if I did want to get you in trouble, it's just my word against yours". Rubbing my earlobe and looking at her innocent eyes I don't know quite what to think.

She tells me some teachers have a problem with her.

She tells me when she has a habit of confiscating things she likes.

She tells me if a boy has a locker in a nice place or a cool toy she will confiscate it.

She tells me the teachers don't understand and lecture her about stealing.

"Stealing!" she scoffs. She scoffs at the idea that people can own things without her permission. This girl scoffs like a pro. They way she scoffs she could convince you that red shirt you're wearing is OBVIOUSLY green. Believe me.

She tells me she is only commandeering what she needs. If she needs a pen she will take it out of a boy's hand. He can have it back when she'd done with it.She tells me the guys understand this and they don't complain. She tells me the teachers say she is taking advantage of other people.

Looking at her I don't see how any guy could refuse her anything. I run my hands across her smooth skin and hold her by her the waist. As her slim hips squirm I feel the muscles in her sides move delightfully. We kiss and I slide my hands up the back of her shirt to feel more of her perfect, soft skin.

The next few days are a whirlwind of sex and violence. A cycle of debauchery.

Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.

Each time she seems to get more violent. Her foreplay always leaves me with bruises and she can't seem to get off unless she makes me bleed. As I lie on my back, one of her knees on my arm and the other pressing down on my neck, I think of the praying mantis. A male mantis will keep humping the female even if she eats his head in the middle of the act. I can sympathise.

I don't even talk to my friends anymore. They'd only ask me about my cuts and bruises. What am I supposed to tell them? My girlfriend beats me. She digs her fingernails into my skin. She has teeth like a wolverine. Did I mention she's underage? I don't think so.

What can I do? She's a drug. I can't be without her. It's not like I can go to a doctor and get a pill to cure me. I can just see the doctor telling me "Your symptoms are painful, recurring boners whenever she's not around? You say it's getting worse all the time? I'm afraid there's no cure for that." All I can do is hope it's not fatal.

When she kisses me in the heat of passion she likes to run her fingernails along the back of my head. Usually I'll find encrusted blood in my scalp the next morning. When she nibbles too hard on my lips I can taste my own blood in my mouth. The funny thing is, if the police came in the middle of all this I'm the one who'd go to jail. Who's the victim here? Who's getting hurt?

She treats the world as if it were here own. I guess I'm one of the many things that caught her interest and she decided to confiscate.

After getting a bloody lip twice in one day I decide to try something new. When she jumps me I hold her down. I pin her arms to her sides and wrap my legs around hers. We lie there for a while. She can't hurt me but on the other hand my hard-on is getting painful. She knows this and smiles.

I can't take it anymore and I start pulling her clothes off. She gets a few painful shots in before I have her completely naked but I manage it. I get between her legs and pin her wrists above her head, my forearms resting on her elbows. She fights back but doesn't protest. Her face is red from exertion and the blush extends down to her breasts and around her abs. The heat coming off her body makes it feel like I'm lying over a fire.

All the struggling is making her breathe heavily and each time she bucks and strains against my arms her tits stand out and her muscles move underneath her skin in enchanting ways. The groove beneath her breasts, where her abdominal muscles meet, is glowing pink and covered with sweat. In this position it's a match of raw strength and no matter what she does I can easily overpower her slender frame.

Her squirming and heavy breathing is turning me on more than I thought possible. She occasionally pulls one of her arms free from my grip because our hands are slippery with sweat, but by now she's too tired to put up any real resistance. Hungrily, I force myself on her and eventually my efforts are rewarded when she comes. Loudly.


The new paradigm is rape or be raped. I don't have the strength or patience to overpower her every time nor the will not to.

Today she bloodied my nose with her elbow. As blood dripped down my throat I shielded my face with my forearms and I remembered the sight of those birds trapped in the wind. You win a little, you lose a little, you're still trapped in the same place. Whatever happens, the next day we're both rested and ready to start the struggle again. She's like that gale, raging against no one, an uncontrollable force of nature.

Anytime Vera's not hurting me she treats me like her baby. She holds me in her arms while she tends to my injuries. She kisses me where it hurts and rubs my sore muscles. Now, as I lie down Vera snuggles up against me and nuzzles my neck. I feel the tension drain from my muscles. She falls asleep still pressing her lips against me. I lie there for a while just looking her over and admiring the features of her perfect face.


At work I occasionally notice specks of blood on the front of my pants. The carpet burn on my knees turns into scabs that crack and bleed when I bend my legs. Usually I notice this and make a quick trip to the bathroom where I can stick some toilet paper over the scab to stop thebleeding. Sometimes I don't and blood seeps into my pants.

During my time alone in the bathroom I feel like a criminal trying to hide evidence. What happens if someone finds out about Vera? What if she gets tired of me and reports me to the police herself? I have no idea what's going on in that girl's mind. Will I get locked up? Will I be branded a pedophile? The words "You know what they do to child molesters in jail" keep going through my head. I feel guilty for acting paranoid. I know Vera loves me, there's no reason for her to do that to me. She said herself there's no evidence. There are no photos of us in bed together. Just her word against mine. Rushing out of the bathroom I feel like a total idiot. What's wrong with me? As soon as I'm alone I get crazy ideas. Does everyone have these paranoid fantasies when they're in love? Stepping outside, I walk quickly and look at the ground, trying not to invite more comments about my black eye.

After work I'm supposed to meet Vera downtown. Looking around a store I notice her before she sees me. Just standing there she has aura of authority. A certain sense of purpose. When you're a kid you meet some adults for the first time and you can tell right away they're teachers. You feel as if you have to listen to them even without them even telling you. Years of teaching can give you a way of talking to kids, a particular attitude that demands respect and obedience. Often people will describe great leaders by saying they instantly became the focus of attention they moment they entered a room, as if they demanded respect by force of personality alone. This is what Vera is like. If a group of people were dropped in a forest they would follow her without hesitation. Looking at her, it's unthinkable that she doesn't know EXACTLY where she is and EXACTLY where she's going. How does she do that?

We get something to eat and then kill some time just wandering around. Suddenly she announces I will have to drag her out of the mall by force and takes off running. Never a dull moment around her...

After a short but intense chase, and more than one strange stare from other shoppers, I corner the giggling vixen. With her ultimatum, Vera is forcing me to overpower her. Despite her half-hearted protests I lift her up and head off towards the exit with her over my shoulder. Proud of having captured my prey without even spilling my drink I tell her to try harder next time and put her down by the door. She's still resisting as I pull her by the elbow towards the door I notice a huge, muscular, mean-looking guy heading for the exit.

Vera notices him too. Vera notices me noticing him. Giving me the little cocked-eyebrow look she seizes the opportunity. "Leave me alone!" she yells out in a little-girl voice, "You're hurting me"! Of course, the thick-skulled cretin can't see the smug look on her face as he decides to rescue the beautiful princess, hoping to claim the benefits that role entails.

Lumbering up to me with his chest puffed out he asks:"What seems to be the problem here?" in a macho tone.

Not only could this guy could easily crush me but I notice two more aspiring heroes heading towards us, hoping for a chance to act tough. Having no desire to be surrounded by men eager to show off in front of Vera, I'm forced into action to save my own ass. Fortunately the muscular jackass grabs me by the shirt while his attention is still focused on Vera. I squeeze the cup I'm holding to loosen the plastic lid and throw my drink at his eyes. Surprised by my sudden move, he takes in a sharp breath and makes a gurgling sound as he inhales the soft drink through his nose. Of course, I don't see this - I only hear it happening behind me because by this time I'm dashing out the door with Vera right behind me howling with laughter.

Slower shoppers are knocked aside in my scramble through the door. Sorry lady, but those running for their lives have the right-of-way. Once I'm through you may get up and try again. We run until we're out of breath and Vera is still giggling.

I am not amused. I am not tickled by her clever joke. Relax, she tells me, "I would have called him off, you know that". She's right, too. It doesn't make me any less angry. Maybe it's only my own ego that was at risk. I was carrying her around like a helpless captive and then she suddenly took control. Maybe I'm only angry because I felt strong and she showed me she was the one with the real power. Still, what's wrong with a guy feeling tough once in a while?

She stays quiet the rest of the way home although she keeps watching my face for a reaction. As she holds my hand I notice the faint bruises on her wrists left last night by my fingers. I remember how hard I had to hold on to those wrists when I forced myself on her.

We get back to my place and I need release. I'm not in a good mood and her teasing today has left me very aroused. Pressing her against the wall, I pull off her shirt. She's not even resisting.

I carry her to the bed. Not a single punch or bite or scratch. She's just staring at me. For some reason, there's a look of determination in her eyes. For the first time, I penetrate her without having to hold her down or getting beaten to a pulp. All she does is wrap her arms around me and stare as I thrust again and again. She doesn't look away from my eyes the entire time. I only return her stare. In my anger I don't last long and as I near orgasm she pulls me closer.

Still with the look of complete focus on her face she tells me in between breaths "Vera doesn't mean truth. It's not Latin... It's Russian. It means faith... belief."

I feel her hot breath on my face. I come inside her over and over, neither of us looking away or closing our eyes.

Without blinking she drops the bomb on me "I lied when I told you I wason the pill."

I stop breathing.

Vera, master of the understatement... This is her way of saying "I loveyou, marry me."

This is her way of saying "I want to have your baby, oh and by the way, I'm pregnant."

This is her way of saying "I have you by the balls. This pregnancy is the only evidence I need to have you locked up."

This is her way of saying "That little incident in the mall was to let you know I want you to act tough, I want you to overpower me, but always remember who has the real power."

Simply put, a marriage is some bond to encourage couples to stay together. In some cultures it's the hassle of dividing up common property. In some cultures the bond is the fact that the man knows he must support the woman even if he leaves her, while the woman knows that once married she will not be desirable as a wife for another man.

Each party must sacrifice some freedom that would let them easily return to their previous life. This is a de facto marriage: my bond to her is the fact that she can send me to jail, her bond to me is her baby.

The hairs on my neck stand up as she whispers in her best little-girl voice "Have faith in me. Trust me. I know what I'm doing. Believe in me."

This girl is only 17.