WARNING: The following is a work of erotic fan fiction, the events of which are completely fictional and did not happen. This material is not suitable for viewing by those under the legal age limit for viewing pornographic material in their country of residence. I do not own any person referred to in this story.
Starring: Aryna Sabalenka, Paula Badosa
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Rome, may 2025
Rome's central field is packed to capacity. it is a beautiful day of May in the eternal city. The midday sun warms the heads of the spectators sitting in their seats, all wearing caps and bandanas, all with cool bottles of water at their sides. There is a Wild West atmosphere: the spectators rumble, then fall silent at the beginning of each new point, as if a bandit had suddenly entered the saloon. Then a roar of applause, or an "oooh" of disappointment, and off again, all over again. Rome is hell these days. The Masters 1000 falls at the same time as the conclave to elect a new pope. Sacred and profane mix, making the city unlivable and electric.
Paula Badosa was at the center of this modern gladiatorial arena. Soaked in sweat, she was desperately trying to withstand the blows of her opponent today, Aryna Sabalenka. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back under her dress, all the way down her legs. Aryna, on the other side of the net, was raging like a lioness. Excited by the gladiatorial atmosphere, she was racking up winner after winner. Paula tried to resist her by all means, but all seemed in vain. She really wanted to reach that final. After all the injuries and stoppages she had suffered, it would be a great reward for her efforts. In the second set, she managed to recover a break reaching 4-4. He went down 0-40 in the next service game, and Aryna fired a bombastic longline backhand that sent her to serve for the match. Paula watched the ball drop over the line with a mixture of despondency and admiration.
"How strong you are, sweetie," she thought.
It was wonderful to see that extraordinary creature on a court. A mighty and beautiful tiger, determined, fierce. Her tiger.
The two had known each other for a very long time. They had become friends in a very short time because of their natural attunement. They would go shopping, go out at night, train together, go to clubs to chase boys, and back each other up. It was Aryna who had introduced her to Stefanos.
Then, one evening about a year and a half earlier, Aryna had come to visit her in her hotel room, a recurring occurrence. They had drunk red wine, chatted at length about tennis, life, and men. They had shared secrets. Paula had told her friend intimate details of her relationship with Stef, and Aryna had listened with great interest. Aryna had opened up about her past relationships, their tragic outcomes, and her current boyfriend. One glass, then another, then another. Then an innocent caress, then a hug, then a kiss on the lips. Then a meeting of tongues, then a hand on her tit, then a hand between her legs, then both of them naked, then her face plunged into Aryna's pussy, then a sequence of porn movie orgasms. The next evening, Aryna had shown up at his door again. She had been waiting for her all day.
Memories of that evening overlapped in her mind at a whirling pace as she switched courts on 4-5. The last year and a half of her life had been too good to be true. Stefanos was her boyfriend and Aryna her lover. She had not even had to hide anything. She loved two people who activated different branches of his sexual and emotional sphere. Some days she fucked Stefanos in the afternoon, in the tool closet, and in the evening she fucked Aryna showing off her best lingerie; some days, the exact opposite. Three months earlier, in Indian Wells, she, Stefanos, Aryna, and Georgios had knocked down the walls of a private California suite. She had lustfully watched Stefanos penetrate Aryna and make her cum. The image and bodily sensations of her doggy-style, fucked from behind by Stefanos as he plunged his face into Aryna's pussy while she was sucking Georgios' cock lived rent-free in her head and did not promise to leave her soon.
She walked back in with those thoughts in her head. She crossed her eyes for a moment with Aryna and hinted at her with a smile. The Belarusian ignored her completely.
"'How does she do that?" thought Paula for a moment.
Ace, 15-0. Another ace, 30-0. Then finally a second serve. Paula approached with her backhand, started the rally, but Aryna ended it with an inside-out forehand. Service and forehand winner from the left. Game set and match.
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"You've been trying to distract me the whole game, Paulita," Aryna said as the two returned to the locker room.
"Everyone fights with the weapons they have," Paula smiled at her. "But you are too focused in the match. You should let yourself go a little more, so maybe I win a few more games."
Aryna laughed. "Your problem is that when you're on the court against me, you spend more time looking at my boobs than thinking about how to win the game."
"Maybe you're right. But you are too beautiful."
Aryna smiled sweetly and kissed her. "You are mine, Paulita," he whispered in her ear.
"All yours," the Spaniard replicated. She could already feel moisture between her thighs. "I'm going to take a shower, honey," she added, as they entered the locker room.
"Maybe later, dear," replied Aryna, looking into her eyes.
Paula paused in wonder. Her lover was rummaging through her bag, from which she pulled out what looked like a small kit. Paula sensed immediately.
"Oh, so I'm not excluded from the rules".
"What were you thinking, Paulita? Rules are rules. I remind you that you are the one who implemented them," Aryna said looking at her defiantly.
Paula reflected. The new WTA board rules had been approved a few weeks ago and had already claimed its first victims. In order to facilitate the democratic mechanisms, a particularly special motion had been voted, which provided for the submission of defeated players in the important rounds of a tournament and the loss, for a short period of time, of the right to vote.
"Both holes, huh?" thought Paula, remembering the exact words of the proposal. A small thrill of excitement hit her. Her mind flew back to the month before, during the tournament in Stuttgart, to the punishment she and Aryna had given Coco Gauff for contravening the new rules. The sharp memory of the American girl on all fours, in tears, as Paula penetrated her from behind aroused her further. She had crossed paths with Coco right here in Rome, as the American made her way to the court for a match. She knew that under her little dress and panties she was wearing a metal buttplug, as ordered by Aryna. A reminder, a little extra punishment for force-fucking Jasmine Paolini.
"Yep, you're right. I thought though, with a friend..."
"You won't get off that easy, I'm afraid," the "friend" smiled at her as she opened the kit in front of her. Paula caught a glimpse of a strap-on, a vibrator, and a ball gag.
"Wow Aryna, you went shopping!"
"Honey, have you ever counted how many times you and I have fucked?"
"Well, I wouldn't know exactly," Paula replied doubtfully.
"One hundred and twenty-three times. Not a bad number, I would say. For this very formal occasion, I wanted to add a little something."
Paula almost felt her vagina vibrate. "I wouldn't want the Board to think you were playing favorites with me. Only, I ask you for some sweetness, if you don't mind.", she smiled.
