AAkasha
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Joined: 11/27/2004
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Copyright Akasha 2011
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Characters inspired by Ducks circa 2003, check the roster and make your guesses...(haha)
Quite possibly it was the first time a professional hockey team collectively visited a house of domination.
But, it was what the coach wanted. Something about focus and discipline. The boys of course thought it hilarious, well, most of them, and as the first batch of them filed into the front reception area of the establishment, there were a few chuckles and sarcastic remarks.
"I'm sending you guys in groups of eight," the coach said as he followed the batch of nicely dressed young men into the room, which looked more like a dentist office waiting room than a dungeon. It was complete with a nicely dressed older woman behind a reception counter.
The coach continued as the players sat in available chairs in the waiting room, some of them dressed in shirt in tie and a few in sweaters. "I won't be hanging around, but I trust you'll all treat the ladies here with respect."
Rick Chambers, the team's dark haired center and well known flirt, immediately picked up a fetish photography book that was on the table next to him and started flipping through it. "Holy shit," he said to his blonde teammate, "Look at her." He was pointing to a black and white shot of a woman in nothing but black patent leather pumps.
The older woman behind the reception desk moved slowly and deliberately, almost matronly, around her cubicle as the coach gave a wave and exited. She had a handful of clipboards and pens she handed out to the team as they sat there, and then, smiling, said methodically, "Please fill out all the information that is requested on the top form."
The players were all milling around the papers, some of them mumbling to each other. Rick was still looking at the fetish book. "Holy SHIT!" he said, and elbowed his blonde friend once again.
The lady, who could have been his mother's age, shot him a look and he quickly shut the book and said "Pardon me."
She smiled and continued, her hands clasped together. "On the back of the second page is a list of fetish activities that you may or may not wish to indicate your interest level in." It was obvious this was a memorized speech.
Immediately all the men flipped the pages over to look at the fetish list, and varieties of sounds were made. A couple of the guys also leaned to one another, pointing to something on the list and looking at each other incredulously.
"Please note that number eleven has a typo," the older lady continued. "It's not ball bursting, it's ball BUSTING."
At once, all eyes shot up to the woman as she made her way back to her chair. Obviously, hearing those words from her mouth led most of them to try not to burst out into laughter.
The blonde winger turned to his dark haired friend, who was eagerly checking every box on the list of more than 270 fetishes. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
"Hey man, you only live once."
"Dude, crossdressing?"
"Oh, shit." He looked up to the woman at the counter. "Excuse me, do you have an eraser?"
**
The young Canadian had his clipboard on his knee and it was bouncing up and down. He stared down at the paper, his eyes like saucers. The Czech sitting next to him in the waiting room turned to him, observed him for a moment, then said "What are you so scared about?"
The boy turned to him, and said point blank, "Did you read that list? Whipping? Paddling? Man that shit's gotta hurt."
The Czech elbowed him. "Do not worry, that kind of thing is all for show. It is not really like that. I went to one place, like this, when I was in Amsterdam."
That got the attention of the surrounding players, who all leaned over to give the Czech a look as he continued.
"The lady, a beautiful lady, she just tease me, sit on my face. I give her some pleasure."
The Canadian stammered a little. "I - I don't think that's legal here."
"It does not matter. You think that massage place over there, across the street, they just give massage? My point is that you do not need to be afraid because they will not hurt you."
Just on that comment, when the boy was about to settle into his chair again with a semi sigh of relief, howls of pain from a grown man could be heard in the background as the doors to the back of the dungeon opened and two beautiful women emerged.
"Welcome to my dungeon, gentlemen," the taller brunette smiled.
All the men just sat there, staring.
**
"Let me introduce myself," she continued to the men. "My name is Monica, and this is Lacy," the statuesque beauty said. The blonde at her side was young and preciously adorable, with long hair that had big, healthy curls. Both women were dressed in black latex that was sensual and revealing, and with 5 inch heels on black patent leather boots, they would nearly meet the height of most of the professional athletes assembled in the room.
The dark haired center, chewing quite slowly and deliberately on a piece of gum, gave his friend an elbow as he sized up the two women. Of course, Monica caught this through the corner of her eye immediately but did not acknowledge it. Rick continued to gaze intently.
"Have you gentlemen had a chance to complete the forms that Ms. Trackwell provided you?"
There were a variety of nods and quiet yeses, then Rick said above them all, "Yes, Mistress!"
Some giggles followed from his friend, and the team captain shot them both a stoic glance.
Monica turned to Rick, smiling. "We don't use that protocol here, Mr. Chambers. You can just call me Monica."
He had a sort of half smile, sitting up straight, and without hesitation came back with, "Well how can I call you, if I don't have your number?"
More giggles from his friend, who had his head turned away.
The captain said, quietly, stoically, "Guys," and made a subtle gesture with his hand for them to tone it down.
"Sorry," Rick responded, settling his titters of laughter and trying to compose himself.
"With that," Monica said in an even tone, "We'll start with you, Prince Charming," and gave Rick a wave to join her.
He stood with enthusiasm and as he followed her out through the back doors into the halls of the dungeon, he said "All right! I get to go first. Let the torture begin!"
Before the doors could close all the way, there was a definite sound of beating on human flesh and screams of pain, and the young Canadian turned to the Czech and said, "That doesn't sound very encouraging."
**
Chapter One: The Slut
Monica stood before the center, who was standing now, in the buff, with his wrists in comfortable chains that held his arms above his head. Gazing at the two lovely women before him, he was visibly aroused, and not the least bit uncomfortable by it. Or by being in chains, for that matter.
Monica read an index card she had in her hand, one that the coach had earlier provided privately that listed the problems each player had in his play style or work ethic, and tried as best he could to explain clearly to the dominatrix non-hockey enthusiast. She was a quick study, however.
Lacy was quietly in the background assembling a variety of toys and props, and Rick split his time gazing at each of the two ladies.
Monica next picked up the clipboard and read the information he provided, which consisted of mostly sarcastic responses and sexual innuendos. On the category for gender, he had circled TS. "Mr. Chambers, are you a transsexual?"
He chuckled, a half sided smirk forming. "No, of course not."
"You circled TS under sex."
"I thought that was some sort of code saying I was willing."
"No, it's not."
"Well, in case you are wondering…."
"No, I am not." Monica paused and looked at him for a moment. He tried the smile again. "Give me that gum," she said, obviously a little impatient now, leaning up close to him.
"No problem," he said, opening his mouth a little and leaning toward her, his hair falling into his face a bit. He parted his lips more and attempted to meet her mouth but she backed away immediately and snapped at him.
"In my HAND," She clarified, holding up her open palm.
He let the gum drop into her hand, and she promptly dropped it into the trashcan that Lacy lifted up next to her. "Mr. Chambers, are you a bit of a slut?"
"I like to have fun."
"I bet you score a lot," Monica continued, now regarding him with a smile, looking him up and down, and even reaching out to slightly touch his erect cock.
He smiled proudly. "Yeah."
She lifted the index card in her hand. "Well according to this, you've only scored twice."
His smile started to fade almost immediately, and for the first time, his body tensed a little.
"And no assists."
Lacy was shaking her head, as if embarrassed. Indeed, it emasculated the center.
"It's just the start of the season," he defended himself.
Monica scoffed. "Oh please. What kind of a lame ass excuse is that. Three points in ten games?"
"Let's see your ass on the ice," he snapped. The smile was all gone, and the charm was turned off. He was, indeed, angered and getting restless.
Monica just smiled, and again strolled around him, now slowly touching him with her gloved hands, all around his arms, across his chest, down over his ass. Slowly, seductively, teasingly. Pressing her breasts against his back, and even unzipping the front of her catsuit so he could feel her hard nipples against his skin.
This quickened his breath, and he put his head back, shut his eyes, and started breathing deeply. In fact, he looked a little more tranquil, perhaps hoping this meant a change of subject. Her hands were really working him hard, and he was getting incredibly horny.
"You like to cum, don't you."
"Yeah," he whispered, eyes still closed.
"You are a great fuck, aren't you?"
"Yeah," he responded, this time with a little bit of a moan.
"You love to eat pussy, to eat women, to fuck all night long, don't you?"
"Yeah," he said. He was still standing there in the buff, and now Lacy's hands were on him too, and she was crouched down near his cock, cooing a bit, and touching his pubic hair.
Monica stepped back, and on cue, Lacy moved away as well, leaving the heavily breathing center writhing a bit, his cock totally engorged. He was starting to sweat. His eyes shot open and he looked to both women, quite serious now.
Monica smiled, zipping her catsuit back up all the way. "I think you need to spend less time thinking about fucking, and more time working on your face offs."
"What?" he asked incredulously.
She had a vibrator in her hand, and she was walking around with it, playfully turning it on and off, looking through some stat sheets that were on her table, casually rubbing the vibrator around her body, over the catsuit. "I think you need to stop thinking about eating pussy, and start thinking about improving your plus minus ration."
"Ratio," Lacy corrected quietly in the background.
"Thank you," Monica responded. Rick was just looking at them both, his smirk long gone, now replaced with a little bit of a half gape.
"In fact, Mr. Chambers, until you bring your points to 25 and your face off percentage to 55%, you aren't going to be fucking anyone, or even masturbating for that matter."
"The hell I won't," he laughed.
"Lacy, get the device. Mr. Chambers, let me introduce you to a device we call the CB2000. It's a chastity device that will allow you to urinate, shower, and conduct your life as normal, but you will not be able to ejaculate. It is the most successful, unbeatable chastity device available today."
"I'm not wearing that thing," he laughed.
Monica picked up the clipboard and flipped to the second page, where he had marked off every box but crossed off "CROSS DRESSING" and wrote on the side "NO".
"You marked it right here. Chastity."
He glanced at it, then tried a little smile, out of half his mouth. "Yeah well, I meant for like, you know, two hours or something."
Lacy returned with a tray, and on top of it was a razor, some gel and a menacing looking metal tube with a lock and key.
Rick looked at it and then back at Monica. "You can't put that on me," he said quite seriously.
Monica just gave him a long, long smile with a silence.
Lacy was crouched down near his crotch. She chimed in, "He's right."
Rick smiled, thinking, yeah, the assistant realized it was illegal or something, or that they could get arrested.
Monica looked down at Lacy, who peered up and continued. "He's still too hard."
Rick looked down quickly.
Monica gave his chest a tap with the clipboard. "Lacy will work on bringing down that erection for you. I have a feeling that might take some time. Then she's going to trim you, shave you, and cage you. When you meet the requirements we discussed, you can return to have it removed. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Chambers."
He said some foul words to her on her way out, so she added, "See you in April!" just to rub it in.
**
Chapter Two: The Enforcer
"Mr. Richards, what is your position on the team?" Monica asked as she paced around the solid player, who was still fully clothed but secured tightly to a straight back metal chair.
"I'm a left wing," he responded dryly, void of any emotion. He watched her carefully, and occasionally looked toward the blond Lacy, who was assembling a few implements of pain on a tray next to what looked like a modern day rack of some sort, complete with shackles.
Monica was reading the index card that again the coach had provided her. "It says here you are an enforcer. What does that mean?"
John sat for a few seconds, quiet, then responded, as if impatient to have to explain. "It means I use fighting as a way to get momentum shifted back to our team. I try to pick things up when we are down, and sometimes I fight with the other team's enforcer to do it."
"Doesn't it also mean that you fight with players on the opposing team that take liberties with your smaller teammates, or your captain, for example?"
"Yes," he responded. Monica continued to pace, conducting the interview almost like an interrogation. Lacy, meanwhile, carefully regarded each of the tools of pain with admiration, often holding them up so that the enforcer would take notice.
Monica started tapping the card against her gloved palm, nodding a little, then turned to him. "So then what happened in Boston? When they spread your captain across the boards, and stew footed your smallest scorer?"
He made a face at her, then Lacy chimed in from the background, "Slew Footed."
"Thank you," Monica responded.
"I never had the opportunity -" he started.
"NEVER?" she interrupted, raising her voice and getting right up into his face. "The truth is, you didn't want to get into it with their enforcer, because you are afraid of him."
"That's bullshit."
"Is it? I saw the tape. I saw it. I saw what a chicken shit you were, and you blew that game by not stepping in, on that NEXT shift, and taking that -- what's his name -"
Lacy chimed in again, "Grant Couples."
"-Grant Couples, and beating the shit out of him for what he did to your guys. Instead, you sat back and let it go. What are you, his gay lover or something?"
John just stared at her, in a bit of shock, not knowing whether to start swearing or to just blow her off. He was, indeed, breathing hard and visibly irritated, however.
Monica let a little silence follow, then walked around as if pondering, again tapping the index card on her palm. "You like to defend the scorers on the team, John, or just fight when it's convenient for you?"
"I do what I can for the team."
"Are you willing to take pain for them, even if you have to stand up to someone stronger, who can hurt you much more than you have ever been hurt?"
"Yes," he responded, clearly, firmly.
She walked over, put a finger to his chest, and with a very, serious, menacing glare, even in her beauty, said "Then DO YOUR JOB."
He looked down, and for a moment figured that was it, his torture was to be verbally abused and emasculated about what he agreed was a fuck up he had made, and he let out a sigh, and thought, well, that wasn't so bad.
Monica turned to Lacy and said, "Bring me that young Canadian. The scared kid. The one that wrote on his form, 'please don't hurt me.'"
John looked up right away. "What are you doing?"
Lacy exited the room. By then, all the pain implements were neatly placed on a velvet cloth next to the rack that was a few feet in front of the chair where John was securely bound.
"You aren't going to - " he looked at the rack. "No, you're kidding me. Come on, he's just a kid. He's terrified."
"You think he feels any different on the ice when he's beaten to a pulp because you won't stand up for him?'
"That's different."
"No, it's not."
"It's hockey. That's the way we play the game," he defended, and then he started to struggle, but his wrists were securely bound behind the chair.
"Do your JOB," she said again, pointing at him, just as Lacy pushed open the door.
"One scared Canadian kid, coming right up," Lacy announced, and gave the smallish player a shove.
He did look like a deer in the headlights, and he regarded the room, and his bound teammate, with a sense of fear and anticipation.
"Well aren't you cute as a button," Monica said with a wave. "Lacy, strip him and strap him down, let's get this show on the road." With that, she picked up a riding crop and gave her hand a few swats with it, creating a menacing crack.
The young Canadian was obviously terrified, he was visibly trembling, and he was trying to come up with something to say as Lacy very deliberately stripped him of his tie and started to unbutton his shirt. He even reached up and took her by the wrist and looked at her and said, "Wait, hold on. I put down - I wrote - on that clipboard thing - I told you guys -"
Monica had her back to him as she was looking at her whips. "What clipboard thing. I don't remember any clipboard thing."
John then started to swear. He cursed, and he struggled, and the entire chair rocked, and perhaps it was at that moment, as Lacy gave the boy a shove over the table, face down, that the Canadian put it all together. And he said to John, "They're doing this to me, because of you?"
Monica started shackling the boy's wrists to the table. "That's right. This isn't even your turn, sweetheart. This is HIS punishment."
Then words came out of John that the ladies had rarely heard, and the boy on the rack turned his head the other way and shut his eyes.
Monica said, "We should probably gag both of them."
**
Chapter Three: The Captain
The captain stood, stoic, as Monica just paced around him and read the clipboard information. This player was to remain standing there, she decided, fully dressed, because she still wasn't quite sure what to do with him.
In the background, Lacy was sitting on a table, legs crossed, just eying the handsome, unassuming man. He stood precisely still, and his eyes really never even moved. He just stood there, emotionless. She wondered if he was even breathing.
Monica flipped to the second page. "It says here you have some experience with bondage. What does that mean?"
His eyes moved for the first time. He looked at her, perhaps even slightly uncomfortable at the question, perhaps even shy, and responded quietly. "I had a girlfriend in college that sometimes liked to be tied up in bed."
"And did you tie her up?"
"When she asked me to, yes."
Lacy raised her eyebrows, trying to picture the apparently inherently unkinky shy fellow tying anyone up, period.
"Did she ever tie you up?"
"No."
"Why not?" Monica asked.
"I'm claustrophobic," he responded simply, but he looked right at her, quite seriously.
Monica flipped the page over and looked at the back. "You didn't write that down here, where it asks for phobias. Did you miss that question?'
He blinked slowly at her, and said simply, "This whole thing isn't about what I want."
"Good answer" she smiled and Lacy was nodding in the background. "So that's really what is about, right, as the team captain, doing what it takes, leading by example?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you are doing that? Leading by example?"
He blinked slowly again, then averted his eyes and looked straight forward. "I'm doing the best I can," he responded, then he added. "Yes, I'm doing my job."
"If you are doing your job, then why is your team in the toilet? Why are they lazy? Why do they only really show up for one period, and let the other three go to shit?"
"Two," Lacy chimed in. "The other two."
"Thank you," Monica said.
Again, he would not look at her. "It takes time."
"How much time? Five years? Is that enough time? You may have five years, on that salary you make, but those kids-" she pointed toward the door. "Those kids don't have that kind of time."
Monica paced again, and read the index card provided by the coach, then looked at the captain as he stood there, still not having even moved his feet an inch. She thought for a moment, still a bit puzzled. "Lead by example," She said out loud, thinking. She turned to the captain.
"Do your teammates know you are claustrophobic?"
"Yes," he said.
"They all know?"
"Yes, they do." He said. And for the first time, she saw something from him, just a slightly deeper breath. She knew he was sharp, perceptive, and she was impressed, because she got a sense that he realized then where it was all going.
"Lacy," she said as she looked at the young captain. "Get the straightjacket, the shackles and the trunk. Then set up the video camera. We're going to help our captain show the team how he leads by example."
And with that, he just shut his eyes, remained stoic, and Monica thought perhaps he was just trying to force himself into some sort of a trance. He was, indeed, terrified. But he never said no.
**
Chapter Four: The Boy
Monica was indeed exhausted. Six hockey players down, two to go, and she was wiped out. She went into the room where Lacy was waiting with her next victim, and like the captain, he was just standing there. Monica took the clipboard from Lacy and whispered, "Jesus, is he out of high school yet? How old is this kid?" She flipped around on the clipboard, but everything was left blank, except his name, which she could barely read let alone pronounce.
"I don't think he speaks any English," Lacy said, looking at the boy who just stood there, now with his eyes down a little bit. "I can't tell if he's super scared or just bored."
Monica called his name as best she could, and he corrected her, but she still couldn't say it. She was getting impatient, "Boy," she said. "I'm going to call you boy. That's what you are. Is that clear, do you understand me?"
He shook his head slowly, looking at her. His eyes, she realized, were sweetly passive, doe like.
"Boy," she said, and pointed to him.
"Boy," he repeated. Then he just shook his head and kind of shrugged and then looked to Lacy with the same blank expression.
Monica was frustrated and she shook her head, looked at the clipboard again, then the card that the coach gave her, and it was blank also. "Oh, great. I got nothing on nothing. I have nothing. I know nothing, he doesn't speak any English, and I have no idea if he even has a medical history. I can't do this."
"The coach said to do them all," Lacy pointed out from behind her.
Monica sighed and shut her eyes, thought for a moment. From the background, Lacy said, quietly, "He's staring at your boots."
Monica turned. Indeed, he was. Just staring. Perhaps he had never seen anything like them before. She walked over slowly and his eyes followed her feet. She lifted a leg and showed it to him. "You like these boots?"
He nodded. Monica turned to Lacy. "I bet he's a virgin."
Lacy responded, "No way. Those guys in even in the minor leagues lose their virginity at like 14."
Monica suddenly had an idea. "Hey, go grab that other Russian out there, the one with the sour temperament. He can ask him a few questions."
Lacy nodded and exited, and when Monica turned around, the boy was reaching out to place his fingers on her hip, to feel the latex of her catsuit. Monica smiled at him, then reached over and lifted his chin and his eyes finally came up. "You like it?" she asked.
Again, the Russian boy nodded.
Monica touched his cheek and regarded him fondly. She said, thinking out loud since she knew he couldn't understand her anyway, "I bet you're a virgin. I bet you have no idea even what I'm doing, or what this is. I have to be gentle with you. I can't break you. You're just a boy. Do you want me to be gentle with you, boy?"
He just stared at her, and she found herself slightly smitten with his boyish innocence and inability to even understand her. She actually found herself enjoying the session, which, in her line of work, was sometimes rare.
Lacy entered the room with the elder sour Russian in tow, who had his hands in his pockets and was chewing gum. "When's my time," he asked at once. "I got to go to a dinner tonight and I'm already late. What's this. What did you do to him?"
"I didn't do anything to him," Monica shrugged. He was just standing there. She showed the older Russian the clipboard. "He didn't answer any of the questions."
"Well of course not, he can't speak any English," the Russian replied.
"I'm sorry, I don't keep Russian translations of my questionnaire handy, we don't get many Russians by," Monica snapped. "Can you just ask him -"
The older player took the clipboard and started spouting things out in Russian, obviously reading off the form. Meanwhile, the doe-eyed boy just nodded now and then, and sometimes replied in a softer, more reserved Russian tone.
Lacy and Monica just watched the banter. It went on and on, and then eventually, the older Russian seemed to be quiet intrigued, eyebrows raised, and it appeared he was saying, "Really? Really?"
And the boy just nodded, and continued softly.
Finally the older Russian shook his head and turned to the ladies. "He said he had Mistress in Russia, two years. He was with her two years and serve her that time."
"You mean, like an S&M relationship?" Monica asked. Lacy had a look of surprise on her face.
The Russian handed the clipboard to her. "That's what he say." He shook his head and looked at the boy as he turned to exit the room. "I always knew you were a freak."
Monica frowned. "Hey, watch it. You're next on my list."
He gave a wave over his head, back to her, as he left the room. She turned to Lacy, who was also frowning.
Monica turned to the boy, who had his eyes down, and his hands behind his back. "Lacy," she said. "Can you go prepare the torture room for Mr. Sour Russian, I would like some time alone with this one."
"Of course," Lacy said, and quietly left the room.
**
AFTERWARD
Well, after the visit to the dungeon, the slumping team did make their comeback, winning 8 of 9 games and setting a few league records. The slut made his way to 25 points within a half dozen games, thanks to back-to-back four-point blockbusters. He flew back to LA in the middle of the roadtrip to be removed from the device, then went on an all night party binge with friends.
The enforcer saw his penalty minutes rise after six game misconducts, including an incident where he took down both the opposing team's enforcer as well as their elite scorer in response to a cheap shot on the captain when his back was turned.
Meanwhile, the captain led the team with the highest level of grace and bravery, and a little more discipline.
As for the boy, he remained the special prize of Monica, and while she taught him English, he taught her to ice skate. She joked with him, one night, that they took turns - her making his ass hot from a firm paddling, and him making her ass freeze from falling down in the rink over and over again.
He just smiled, and looked at her, and didn't understand a thing she said.
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