My Captain Turned Me Over to the Locker Room Master

I got up off the locker-room floor with slow, almost clumsy movements. My knees were shaking and my back throbbed with a dull pulse, still marked by the thick harness Renata had taken off barely a minute earlier. My wrists were reddened by the black leather strap she had used to pin me down, and my hair, once tied back and smelling of vanilla, stuck to my face with sweat, with already-dry tears, and with the thick trails of her cum and mine that were still dripping down my chin and the insides of my thighs.

Renata watched me from the bench, her club tracksuit half pulled up and her arms crossed. At thirty she was still imposing: tall, hard-muscled, black ponytail pulled tight, her skin still shining from the effort of the match and from what had come after. The harness she had just taken off hung from her hand, the glossy black silicone cock still slick with my cunt, thick and curved, with a ring at the base that had left the walls inside me raw. Her gaze was cold, but there was a glint of satisfaction in it I knew all too well.

The locker room smelled of liniment, damp grass, sweat, and fucked cunt. Outside, in the corridor, the voices of the last teammates gathering their bags could still be heard, unaware of anything happening behind the door Renata had locked as soon as we came in. That was the part I found hardest: the razor-thin border between the player cheered in the stands and the kneeling slut ending up with her ass up on the tiles, mouth open begging for more cock.

—Stand all the way up —she said in that low, rough voice—. And don’t you dare leave a single drop of my cum on the floor. Whatever leaks out, you pick up with your fingers and swallow. Tomorrow training’s at eight. Remember one thing: on the pitch you obey my orders. In bed you open your legs for Andrés whenever and however he wants. If you fail in either place, you pay with your cunt and your ass, like tonight.

I nodded without looking at her. I ran two fingers along the inside of my thigh, gathered the thick thread dripping from me, and put them in my mouth, sucking them clean to the knuckle while she watched. Shame burned my cheeks, but between my legs I felt a treacherous heat I couldn’t deny: my cunt swollen, lips throbbing, clit still hard and sensitive after three climaxes in a row. I’d come against the bench more than once, soaking the wood, screaming into her hand when she shoved it in my mouth so the teammates in the corridor wouldn’t hear me. I got to my feet with difficulty, feeling Andrés’s old semen—the stuff she had pumped into me with the harness cock after I came back from the apartment—slip down my thigh. Renata let go of my hands, but not gently: she yanked the strap and left new marks on my wrists.

—Get dressed. And don’t shower here —she ordered—. I want you to get home smelling like me, with your panties soaked and my cum crusted on your tits.

I obeyed in silence. I pulled on my soaked underwear and the team shorts with my hands still trembling, squeezing my thighs together so the hot stream still running inside me wouldn’t show.

***

In the trainings that followed, Renata exercised her power with the precision of someone who had been giving orders for years. When I took on a rival and sent in a perfect cross, she praised me out loud in front of everyone.

—That’s my left foot! —she’d shout, and give me extra minutes in the scrimmages.

But when I misplaced a pass or lost the ball, the punishment came without mercy. Endless drills until my legs stopped answering. Public shitstorms that crushed me in front of the team.

—Is that the best you can do, rookie? —she’d spit—. Looks like you can take a cock down your throat better than the ball at your feet.

And at night, the messages to Andrés: “She fucked up three passes today. Deal with her. Break her ass if you have to.” Those nights he’d receive me at his apartment with a hard hand and little patience. He made me strip at the door, dragged me by the hair to the sofa, and shoved his cock into my mouth without giving me time to breathe, fucking my throat until tears fell and drool ran in a long string from my chin to my tits. Renata watched on her knees to one side, two fingers buried in her own cunt, whispering in my ear that I had better learn, that I should open wider, that I should swallow everything he wanted to give me, that my rise depended on pleasing that cock. When he came, he often yanked his dick out at the last second and shot his load into my face, my eyes, my outstretched tongue, and then Renata would suck him clean and spit him back into my mouth so I’d swallow him twice.

What was most disturbing was that I had started waiting for those messages. Playing with that in mind. Every time the ball ran too far ahead of me, part of me was already calculating the night waiting for me, and I felt my cunt clench inside my shorts, my nipples harden under my sports bra, and I didn’t know whether what I felt in my stomach was fear or a filthy craving to be fucked until I broke.

Renata’s transfer hit the club like an earthquake. The undisputed keeper signed for the rival, the team Andrés had been a fan of since childhood. The official statement spoke of “personal reasons and new challenges.” The truth was simpler and cruder: he wanted his captain in his own territory, shining under the lights of the stadium he adored, knowing what happened after every locker room session.

Renata said goodbye to the team with a brief speech. But when she finished, her eyes fixed on me like a silent promise.

—Come if you want to keep my protection —she told me when no one could hear—. Or stay and watch the veterans eat you alive without me.

***

I spent several nights alone in my apartment, replaying in my head the weight of those hands and the firmness of that harness. Many of those nights ended with me masturbating, three fingers to the knuckles inside my cunt and my thumb pressing my clit, coming on the sheets while I whispered Renata’s name against the pillow. Without her, my minutes on the field shrank to nothing. The veterans cornered me in the locker room, shut me out of conversations, made me feel like I didn’t belong. And the fear of losing the promotion ate at me from the inside.

In the end I gave in. I called her, my voice shaking.

—I need to follow you, captain —I said—. I can’t without your protection. Or without him. Or without their cocks.

The first night in Andrés’s new apartment was a ritual of total possession. Renata and I on our knees in the middle of the living room, completely naked, hands behind our backs. He looked us over the way a coach inspects his players before a derby, his fly bulging, his cock already outlining itself thick against the fabric of his pants.

Renata, thirty years old and calm in the way of someone who already knows every step: brown skin with faint traces of old marks, ponytail loose down her back, dark nipples hard and erect, shaved cunt shining with wetness between her parted thighs, gaze lowered but with a residue of authority she never completely lost.

I, on the other hand, was pure nerves: breathing fast, glassy-eyed, pink nipples pointing up hard, thighs clenched trying to hide the obvious, a bright thread already slipping from my cunt down to the tile.

Andrés approached slowly. He pulled out his cock in front of our faces, thick, long, the vein along the underside throbbing and the purple head shining with precum. He took one breast in each hand and compared them out loud, shamelessly, pinching our nipples until both of us moaned.

—Look at this, Renata —he said, pushing the tip of his cock against her lips—. You already know how to swallow. Open up.

Renata opened her mouth and he sank his dick down her throat in one thrust. He grabbed her by the ponytail and fucked her mouth slowly, calmly, while she swallowed around his shaft and looked up at him from below without resisting. Then it was my turn. He shoved his saliva-wet cock into me and made me gag on it. I couldn’t breathe, my eyes watered, drool fell in long strings down to my tits, and he kept thrusting without mercy.

—One of you knows how to obey by heart —he murmured, alternating between one mouth and the other—. The other still cries when I go all the way in. But both of you are here for the same reason: to empty my balls.

He lowered his hands. He pushed us flat on our backs onto the rug, legs spread wide. Renata was ready, as always: he shoved his cock in with one hard thrust and she arched her back, moaning low, squeezing around it. It took more for me, until his insistence beat me down. He opened my cunt lips with two fingers, spat in his hand, smeared it over his cock, and drove into me slowly, centimeter by centimeter, until his balls pressed against my ass. I screamed into his shoulder, feeling myself stretch from the inside, feeling the tip hit my cervix every time he dropped his hips. I hated myself for how my body answered, how my cunt soaked and clenched around him, how my hips pushed upward asking for more without me wanting to, and at the same time not wanting him to stop.

He fucked us both in turns, pulling out of one to slide into the other, tasting on his cock the mixed flavor of our cunts. When he was about to come, he knelt us again, side by side, mouths open and tongues out. He jerked himself fast, grunting, and shot thick ropes of semen onto our faces, our tongues, our tits, our closed lips. Renata ran her tongue over my cheek, collecting every drop, and put it in my mouth so we could share it.

***

Renata became my teacher as well as my captain. She taught me how to kneel, how to breathe, how to stop fighting what he asked for.

—Relax your throat —she’d say with a firm hand on my nape, pushing me onto his cock until his balls hit my chin—. Don’t resist. Swallow to the base. Do it like a good submissive slut.

At first I choked and tears sprang to my eyes. I vomited saliva onto the rug and they made me lick it up. Then I learned. I learned to open my throat, to breathe through my nose when he was all the way in, to move my tongue under the shaft, to tighten my lips on the way out. I learned fast, because every right answer meant a night without punishment, and every mistake meant the opposite.

A few weeks later I missed a key pass in a match. It led to a goal against us and cost us two points. Renata took me straight to Andrés’s apartment that same night, without even letting me shower.

—This one played like a beginner, Andrés —she said, rubbing her own cunt while he tied me up with the usual strap, wrists behind my back and ankles separated by a bar—. Break her ass. Let her learn where balls get lost.

The punishment was long. They put me on all fours on the living-room table, ass in the air and face mashed into the wood. Renata spread my cheeks with both hands and spat on Andrés’s cock to lube it. He slid it into my ass slowly, and every centimeter tore a muffled scream out of me. When he finally pressed his balls against me, he held still for a second and then started fucking my ass with hard, dry thrusts that made the table bang against the wall. Each hit ripped a howl from me, and each howl seemed to please both of them more. Renata got under me, positioned her mouth right beneath my cunt, and started licking me while he wrecked my ass from behind. She lapped my clit with a broad, flat tongue, pushed two fingers into my cunt and curved them searching for the exact spot, and I didn’t know whether I was screaming from the pain in my ass or the pleasure in my cunt. She kept at it relentlessly, licking the tears that fell onto her face while whispering between moans that I should feel the lesson well, that I should learn not to miss, that that open ass was the future waiting for me every time I lost a ball.

I don’t know when I stopped telling pain from pleasure apart. I only know that I came anyway, soaking Renata’s face while Andrés filled my ass with hot semen, and that was the part that humiliated me most. When he pulled his cock out, a thick stream dripped down my crack to my cunt, and Renata collected it with her tongue without letting a single drop fall. I was left sprawled on the rug, gasping and with my ass throbbing open, while they talked about me in low voices as if I wasn’t there. Renata told Andrés what match we had that weekend, what rival, what needed improvement. My body, still sensitive and leaking cum from two holes, was just another topic in their conversation.

And the worst part is that I liked being there. Being included, even like that, with his cock resting limp on my cheek while they talked football. That night I understood it was no longer just about football or the promotion. I had become addicted to that feeling of belonging to something, even if that something left marks that took days to fade and an ass so open it hurt to sit on the bench.

***

Renata shone at her new club. Impossible saves, derby wins, unquestionable leadership. Her name started appearing in the sports press. I, still trapped in the old club, sank a little more each week: the veterans harassed me, the coach barely gave me minutes, and the promotion I’d dreamed of kept slipping farther away.

The decision was inevitable. I called her again, my voice broken.

—I want to leave with you —I told her—. I can’t anymore without your protection. Or without him. Or without both of your cocks inside me.

The transfer negotiations were tense. Renata pressed the coach of Andrés’s team with an insistence that would not take no for an answer.

—I want her in my eleven —she kept saying—. She’s mine, on and off the field.

The transfer was sealed in a week. I signed with her club. That same afternoon, after the first training session, we celebrated in the empty locker room of the new stadium.

Renata tied me to a bench with the team straps, my body crushed against the cold wood, tits hanging over the edge and nipples rubbing against the plank every time I breathed. She spread my legs wide and got behind me. She put on the harness, the same thick black cock as always, and ran her hand over my ass crack, two fingers first through my soaked cunt, then those same fingers through my still-sensitive hole.

—This is for following me —she said, settling the harness and fitting the tip against my cunt—. Give in completely. Here and out there, you’re mine.

She went in slowly at first, savoring each of my muffled moans, pushing the silicone cock all the way in and twisting her hips so I could feel it against my walls. Then she hammered into me, gripping my ponytail and yanking my head back, and the sound of her hips slamming into my ass bounced off the lockers. She shoved two fingers into my mouth so I’d suck them, and whispered in my ear that I was her slut, her forward, her spare cunt when Andrés wasn’t around. She switched to my ass without fully pulling out, driving in slowly at first, then with all her force, and I came uncontrollably all over the locker-room floor, screaming her name into the wood. She finished with a deep grunt, pressing the harness against her body, and left me trembling, spent, with both holes open and throbbing, with not a shred of resistance left in me.

***

The final session of that month was the most intense of all. Andrés put us both on our knees, side by side in the living room of his apartment, like a keeper and a forward before a derby. He pulled out his cock and made us suck it in turns, one on each side, our tongues meeting over the head, the shared drool running down our chins to our tits.

—This is my victory —he said, alternating between the two of us, one hand on each ponytail to arch us back—. The two best in football, surrendered for me, mouths open waiting for my cum.

He laid us both on the rug, one on top of the other, cunt to cunt, and made us grind while he watched and jerked off. Renata moved her hips with experience, pressing her clit against mine, and both of us moaned loudly, soaking the rug. Then he fucked me while Renata sucked my tits, and when he was about to come he pulled out, switched to her cunt, and finished inside, coming for a long time, his hand gripping my ponytail to force me to watch. When he pulled out, Renata opened her legs and I came closer without needing to be asked: I cleaned her cunt with my tongue, swallowing all the semen he had left inside her.

In the end he knelt us face to face. Renata kissed me deeply, her tongue still smeared with his cum, and in that kiss we shared the end of the night, both of us accepting what we could no longer deny.

The price of glory turned out to be expensive and permanent. Hiding the marks under the uniform became routine: bruises that hurt when I sat on the bench, skin so sensitive it chafed against the fabric with every movement, an ass throbbing in the locker-room showers. In the locker room we changed carefully, pretending everything was normal while our bodies still pulsed, remembering cock, harness, tongue.

Renata remained the brilliant captain. I rose as the emerging star I had always wanted to be. But both of us knew the truth no one in the stands could imagine: every Friday we knelt in the same living room, our bodies offered, our cunts open, our mouths hungry, our lives surrendered in equal parts to pleasure and punishment.

And we accepted it. Because glory, in the end, always has a price, and ours was paid with our legs spread wide.