This is a tease and denial story first and foremost. If that isn't your thing then ok, probably best you save your time. It is also probably just as much a "non consent/reluctance" story but I am looking ahead. Let me know your thoughts at the end if you so wish. I hope you enjoy the read...
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He sat with his head in his hands. His luxury apartment and panoramic view over the harbor seemed of little consequence as he considered his predicament.
Only hours ago he had the world at his feet. He was an athlete at the peak of his career seemingly on a trajectory to stardom, a hero in the public eye. This week he would be playing in front of the national selectors, perhaps about to achieve his lifelong dream of selection for his country. It was something that had burned inside of him for as long as he could remember.
Since he could walk, he would seemingly do so, only ever with a rugby ball in hand. All of his toddler photos through to his teenage years had a ball in it or a rugby field framing the shot. His father was his greatest supporter and his mother a close second. He had been a player, cut down before expressing his talents with a serious ACL knee injury.
Loosing his father a couple of years earlier had been devastating for David. Lost for a while in self pity and grief - he had considered giving the game away. Close friends and his mother, who of course was suffering her own massive loss, rightly pointed out that his father would have wanted him to continue playing and to the highest level he could achieve.
His mothers concern for David in the way he sometimes played meant she would wish he had chosen a different occupation occasionally. However in the heart of big games he knew his mother was behind him 100% and he saw how her face glowed and her chest swelled when he had led his side to victory. She sought him out afterward with massive mom hugs.
It really became quite life changing for him, with a new focus on a career that had been middling at best, blossoming into something quite special. Before his fathers death he had been content to enjoy his talents and ride them wherever they took him. Since the accident, which took his dad, he was doing everything he could to be better as a rugby player. He followed the nutritionist's advice, dropping the many social beers back to one or two a week - just to be polite. He had upped his protein intake and reduced the amount of fat in his diet. He would do extra training after the required team runs, where he would work on his micro skills, the catching and passing or tricky ball handling drills. Mean while the other players would gradually leave the field one by one to shower and head home.
He was noticed. His body shape gradually changed and his muscles and body grew. His chest expanded from the diet and extra training and the more focused gym training. David's coaches began to acknowledge his workload and held him up as an example to the other players for his diligent effort.
The trainers noticed his size, speed and stamina improve over time and patted themselves on the back for the gains and his improvement.
David's stat sheet had improved markedly also. The software used to count his contributions showed steady increases in effort. He made more tackles with more impact; he made more ball carries with a greater average distance and his handling error rate decreased.
His team held him up as an example to follow. Not only admiring his improvement but his courage in defense. He had a reputation for being a no nonsense tackler who refused to take a backward step. He hit hard and he hit squarely. When you ran into David Tanner, you risked your body's condition and your reputation. Bluntly he was feared throughout the competition.
In his own mind David was glad to see that the harder he worked, the better he got. He made a steady rise into the leadership group and had not long ago, eased into the captaincy.
Everything was tracking along nicely until only very recently when his vice, gambling, or more accurately - risk taking, had placed him in a very delicate position. He'd made several bets in the past and the rush was all about breaking a rule. It was a rule he cared or thought little about but it meant he could have his little time away from the responsibilities and roles that came with being in charge.
He knew that the consequences of his actions were dramatic if he were to be caught by the right people. The governing body of the sport would probably slap him with a life ban and his career would be over. He guffed as he thought to himself that perhaps it was lucky so far that he was being blackmailed and not handed over to the authorities. Or, as he thought more reflectively - perhaps that was yet to come and what he was going through would be all in vain and the utter humiliation would be ahead - not in the recent past.
He started to think about Helena, his controlling mistress and the holder of his destiny. He was trying to be angry. He had every right. She had played with him and tortured him mercilessly. She had teased him to the edge of ecstasy and not let him over. She had denied him his senses and embarrassed and humiliated him... Yet, he was not thinking vengefully or aggressively toward her.
Through her teasing and torment, his desire to see her had grown. In a figurative and literal sense he wanted to see her again as she was so tauntingly, confidently and sexily attractive. She had turned his normally sharp mind to mush. He had become her willing, pliable clay in the matter of a few hours.
He had returned home and immediately taken some pictures of himself in the equipment, which he emailed off, to his mistress.
"Iamowned@gmail.com" seemed as suitable email address as any, he thought as he pressed send. In the two shots he had taken he was sure to not show his face. As requested in her note he had included his personal mobile phone number
He wasn't sure but he thought he missed her. "How fucking bizarre" he thought
He wanted to see her legs and he wanted to see her tits. He wanted to see her face again and he wanted to make her smile. He let out an anguished "Arguuugh" as he felt his wood start to fill the plastic barrel of the cock lock she had encased him in. The small rubber padlock bounced against his balls lightly as he stood and made his way to bed.
It was well after midnight, he had the most important game of his career, the next day, his desire to come was through the roof, he was thinking about a girl and his cock was locked in a small plastic barrel.
"Hmmmm" was all he could muster in his head, not the best game prep ever... to say the least.
He knew he would not sleep well!
She
Was not asleep either. The thrill of receiving the email so quickly after his departure and her brains unwillingness to switch off from dissecting the days events meant unconsciousness was beyond her.
The day could not have gone any better. She had, straddled the head of her home city's favorite son, attaining multiple orgasms and a great deal of physical satisfaction. Despite her wrestle with the legal and moral side of her control, she smiled as she remembered the emotional side of her journey so far.