Divine Celebrity 121 (Patreon)

I didn’t rush forward to Coach Juana the moment I saw her. First, I had no intention of teasing her in the middle of the cafeteria and ruining her authority over the team, which I had a great use for. Instead, from the corner of my eyes, I took note of the way she was dressed. Unlike the day before, she was wearing exercise clothes in the color of our team. It was a good idea as it reinforced that she was a coach and not a bureaucrat. 

More important was her hesitation. She did a good job hiding it, but  I could see her being skittish, ready to retreat the moment I pushed forward, which was why I ignored her. Trying to push forward just ruin the moment, and even with my tricks, I couldn’t forget that she was an older woman with better self-control, and with authority to make my life particularly harder. 

I had enough enemies in the management. 

Of course, that didn’t mean that I would be willing to let her go. No, I was just going to reel her in slowly. 

I didn’t even interact with her as she visited the cafeteria, and when she joined the second half of the meeting, I did my best to look extremely professional while I had gone through the tactics. I treated her respectfully, even accepting her corrections as long as they didn’t ruin the tactical nature of it completely. 

When it was finally time to dismiss the team, she was the one to dismiss them. “Good work, team, we’re going to take them down tomorrow,” she declared. “Now, go and rest early. We have a tough match tomorrow.” 

“Go, team!” I exclaimed, and they cheered as they spilled out. 

“Interesting pet,” Coach Juana commented once all students left the room, leaving us alone. The door was closed, but not locked — at least, not until I pushed with a little telekinesis push, which was more useful than just toppling down coffee. 

I shrugged but ignored it. “We have a few more tactics that need to be approved, some last-minute inspirations,” I said, as I pushed the papers toward her. She reached toward them, doing her best to hide her nervousness. 

She did her best to reflect confidence as she listened to my explanations, but she was still tense, ready to reject a massage offer. I didn’t present one, but I also didn’t prevent my fingers from accidentally touching her fingers, leaving a lingering sensation of arousal. 

Hiding my smug smirk as she squirmed was a challenge. 

“There are some valid concerns about our deeper defenses,” she murmured. 

“Well, it looks like a windy day, and I’m betting their accuracy would suffer,” I answered. 

“That’s a risky plan.” 

“We’re not in a position to play safe,” I reminded her. “Instead, we’re going to play to our strengths and hope we’re not humiliated. I’m sorry that it’s stressful,” I said. 

“I can handle stress, it’s the team I’m worried about.” 

“Still, I can help you with your stress with a massage…” I said, then suddenly blushing and avoiding her gaze. “Sorry, it’s not something either of us could handle,” I  added, hesitant yet matter-of-fact. 

And coated with just a perfect amount of Taunt. 

“What do you mean!” she growled, quick to react when she was being questioned. It took a second for her thoughts to kick in as the blush hit, realizing the exact subject she had been challenging me with. She looked ready to take it back, but I didn’t give her the opportunity. 

“Well, you know … it’s not easy to handle a … professional massage,” I whispered, acting shy, yet still pumping my tone with Taunt. Her reaction was interesting. I wondered whether she forgot my parting words of the challenge already, or she treated them as surface-level bluster. 

Bluster that was currently melting away. 

It wasn’t that important. What was important was that she wasn’t retreating in hesitation, but looking at me in internal conflict, her reluctance battling with her desire not to be the one retreating first. “I see, if you can’t handle it,” she said smugly before she could actually consider whether such a taunt was a useful thing to do. 

“I - I didn’t mean it like that. It’s you that can’t handle it,” I answered, my tone high and hesitant, like a teenager that just found himself in class without pants, insecurity radiating off. Completely fake, of course, but another touch of Taunt was more than enough to make her ignore that little detail. 

“Oh, why don’t you show it, then,” she declared, though, toward the end, I noticed a hitch in her tone. “What I mean —“ she tried to correct herself as the realization hit, but her words cut short as I stood up, giving her a smile that was still seductive despite my apparent hesitancy. 

“W-well, if you’re challenging me,” I stammered badly, selling the idea that I would be the first one to retreat this time, and somehow, she believed it.  

I was starting to develop a strong suspicion that the last night’s spectacular climax played an important role in her quick admission, supported greatly by my taunting trick. 

As usual, pride and pleasure were a devastating combination. 

Before she could change her mind, I put my hands on her neck, and started rubbing with all the skill my fingers apply. She suddenly froze, which was a bigger reaction than I was expecting, giving me a sinking suspicion that, even before we started our little game, she was already aroused by my presence, and my taunts didn’t play as big of a role as I expected. 

They just broke her hesitancy and allowed her to tap into the desire she was trying to ignore. 

An excellent deal for me, I decided as I started caressing her neck, a supposedly innocent part of her body that worked as fuel to her pleasure, climbing up wildly. As much as I was tempted to remove her windbreaker immediately, I needed to be careful. I carefully targeted only her neck and shoulders, applying the full range of my supernatural tricks to tease her. 

Which worked amazingly. Barely two minutes into the massage, she started squirming, showing just how badly she had been aroused before I even touched her. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one tempted by the forbidden nature of our little dance. 

“Faster,” she found herself moaning, though froze immediately, the realization that things were getting a bit much clear on her body. 

It was time for another trap. “W-well, I could remove your windbreaker, but I - I’m afraid that you can’t handle it,” I stammered, doing my best to sell my hesitancy. Not the most convincing acting, but like every lie, it worked very easily with the recipient doing her best to actually believe. 

“Oh, little boy, believe me, I can handle it,” she answered. 

“P-prove it,” I stammered, which made her raise her head enough to catch my gaze. I did my best impression of shyness as I avoided her gaze, the sound of her zipper was all I needed to believe my little ploy had worked. 

I pulled my hands away, acting like it was a shy reaction. It worked well, as not only she discarded her windbreaker, but also her t-shirt, leaving her with her sports bra, this time a beautiful blue. 

She smirked at me victoriously. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle it,” she chuckled, which convinced me that, not only she was aroused, but also she had worked a lot to misremember the events that happened in her new office. 

I reacted to her taunt slowly, hesitant enough not to trigger a reversal, and put my hands on her back, rubbing softly. I was careful in my targeting even on her naked back, still avoiding more sensitive spots, but in her condition, even the safe spots were enough to keep her on the edge. 

A spectacular dance to share with her.

Not without its own costs, of course, as playing slowly meant that I had ceded the pace to her reactions, treating her much slower than I would have otherwise preferred. Yet, her silent struggles to avoid moans made it worth it. 

Her nipples were hard enough to reveal her arousal if her barely muffled moans hadn’t already done it. She was right at the edge, with her legs moving. The perfect time to strike. 

“Maybe we should stop,” I whispered, this time my voice seductive rather than taunting. The sudden switch, combined with her arousal, worked wonders to extract the answer I needed. 

“Don’t you dare!” she gasped. 

“Well, you’re the boss,” I answered. 

She was indeed. At least, for the next few seconds…