Rebecca felt the thick cock ram into her wet and willing cunt as Martin's muscular torso wrapped around her, smothering her. Her body was hot and wet from the sweat she had developed in the sauna where she had demanded that he meets her. The professional soccer player knew how to please her.
Martin was one of her favourites on the team. He was always guaranteed to try his best, both on and off the pitch. As his throbbing cock pumped back and forth inside her, she remembered the winning goal which he had scored that afternoon.
Rebecca Ashton was the only female manager in the league, having transferred from a girls' high-school team. She remembered her first day with the team, when she had asked to meet the lads after their training session.
"But they'll be in the showers."
"So what?"
Brian Bramwell, the chairman of the board, was very apprehensive about taking her into the changing rooms.
"They'll hardly appreciate a young woman walking in while they're all naked."
"If we're going to work together they'll have to get used to it."
She thoroughly enjoyed being led into the changing rooms, where all those athletic naked male bodies were on display.
"Boys: this is Rebecca Ashton; your new manager."
A few of them covered themselves with their hands or their towels, but most of the young men simply smiled as she stared appreciatively at their nudity, obviously more than proud of what they were showing. Rebecca was a good-looking woman, her short-skirted business-suit showing off her shapely legs, the deep cut of her jacket showing the upper curves of her breasts. She had deliberately refrained from wearing anything underneath the jacket in order to create this very effect. She noticed that one or two of the guys were beginning to get slightly aroused, although they tried to hide their embarrassment.
"Good afternoon gentlemen. It's a pleasure to meet you."
One particularly well-built player walked up to her, his cock incredibly large, befitting his figure. He made no attempt to conceal his charms.
"Hi: Jim Watson. I'm the captain of the team."
She took the proffered hand, sensing the close proximity of his manliness.
"Hello Jim; but as manager I decide who is the captain."
She smiled as the cocky look on his face dropped. It was up to her to put him in his place, and she would ensure that all the others were put in their place too.
"I can see that some of you want to get dressed, so I will keep my opening speech short. We have a game on Saturday against City. I expect every one of you to give their best performance. If you play well, you will be rewarded; if you let me down, you will be punished."
She left it till Saturday after the game for them to find out just what her rewards and punishments would be.
The team lost 2-1, the one goal being scored by Trevor Kennedy, an eighteen-year old midfielder. One of the goals had been let in by the keeper - Pete Waterhouse. The other was the result of a penalty, arising from an overly aggressive tackle from Jim Watson.
Rebecca entered the changing rooms unannounced, her sports-bag over her shoulder. Once again Jim Watson approached her with his full nudity on display, his manner self-assured as ever.
"Well boss: I guess they were better than us after all."
She took one look at him, opened the zip of her track-suit jacket to reveal a sleeveless t-shirt so small and tight that her breasts were heaving out of the top, and reached into her bag. The smile on her face contrasted with the disapproval in her voice.
"They were not better than you, Jim. They just didn't have any jerk on their team giving away silly penalties."
From her bag Rebecca extracted a small but vicious looking riding crop. Before Jim Watson could even register her intent, he felt the leather-bound switch strike across the naked flesh of his thigh. Even such big boys can feel pain, and he instinctively flinched, his mouth letting out a suitable expletive. It had been no gentle, teasing blow, but a deliberate whipping intended to cause pain, and the skin on the striker's thigh split open, welling with blood which trickled rapidly down his still wet leg.
"I warned you last week that I will punish bad performances."
Her voice changed to sugary sweetness as she turned towards the young Trevor Kennedy.
"Trevor: that was a good goal."
Trevor Kennedy was still under the shower, holding his hands embarrassedly in front of his nudity. Ignoring the others, Rebecca stepped towards him. The running water began to flow over her head, wetting her hair erotically. She became aware of the water covering her t-shirt and making the thinly stretched white material totally transparent to display the colours of her firm breasts. The men around her stared with obvious lust at seeing her gorgeous breasts become visible - even Jim Watson was no longer interested in the pain from the wound on his leg, but stared at Rebecca's gorgeous tits.
"And as I said, good performances will be rewarded."
The youngster blushed as she took his hand, guiding it away from his reluctantly growing erection and lifting it to her soaking wet breast.
"That's the way. And I want to see more performances like that."
She laid her hand on his growing erection as his confidence increased, drawing her finger-nails up the length of his shaft. The others just watched in jealous wonder. Then she placed a kiss on his mouth, her tongue slipping between his lips as the water cascaded over them. The poor boy was so overwhelmed with desire that his cock almost erupted, but then she broke off the embrace with a smile and turned to the team as she repeated her management philosophy.
"Let me down and you will be punished. Play well, and you will be rewarded."
Since then the team had gone from strength to strength, encouraged by Rebecca's combination of reward and punishment. Jim Watson stubbornly earned himself so many lashings until she finally broke his resistance to her methods. She remembered one game during which he had received the red card. She did not even wait for the end of the game, but followed him into the changing rooms.
"Yeah - so they sent me off. Big deal. That bastard deserved what he got. He was off-side."
"We now have only 10 men on the pitch, in a game we could have won."
He continued to get undressed as she answered.
"So what are you going to do? Slap me on the thighs again?"
"Not the thighs. Lie down on that bench."
He was stubborn, but recognised her authority. He lay down on his stomach. The whip swished through the air before striking across his buttocks. He winced.
"Fuck! That really hurt."
"Shut up and lie still."