The local university girl’s hockey team had never been especially successful until Coach Lisa Stanton arrived one late summer day, and implemented her vision for how the team would be managed. Their style of play, after a bruising barrage of practices, experienced a radical improvement. But more than their technical skills, more than their teamwork and sense of camaraderie, was their deep new found sense of confidence. When the girls took to the ice, they expected to win. Wanted to win in a fierce, competitive way they had never quite mastered before. Everyone was dying to know what their secret was, and Coach Stanton found herself bombarded with questions after the first few victories. But the woman simply gave a mysterious smile and gently chided everyone asking. Surely they didn’t expect her to surrender her coaching secrets to the world, did they?

For Coach Stanton’s secret to success was rather…unconventional. It started with a help wanted ad.

Just one. For a young man, preferably a student at the university, looking to make some extra money by helping out the girls hockey team. Must be willing to work long hours in cold conditions. Must be comfortable around energetic and confident women. Must be comfortable working in close proximity with metal, ideally familiar with skates, hockey gear, and sticks. Any applicant had to attend a one-on-one dinner with Coach Stanton so that she could quiz them and determine their suitability in a social setting. She was rigourous in her approach; after all, the very first trial run of this process would need to be a success.

A week after beginning her selection process, Coach Stanton had her man. Boy, really. Colin was just coming into his second year at university, and still hadn’t done much beyond attend classes and participate in a few less than social extracurricular activities. The quiet, somewhat introspective, and best of all utterly trusting young man was perfect for Lisa Stanton. She wined him, dined him, and took him home when he confessed to be feeling “pretty fuzzy.” The last thing Colin remembered of that night was the gentle kiss that Lisa Stanton gave him on the forehead, and her whispered promise, “Don’t worry sweetie, we’re going to take very good care of you.”

 Lisa Stanton’s plan was simple enough. Provide her new team the motivation necessary to win. Add in a bona fide good luck charm to the mix. And give them a team building activity they could all rally around.

So on a cold September morning two weeks after her interview with Colin, her girls were waiting for her in the dressing room. Coach Stanton marched in, towing a large crate behind her, and calmly announced some changes. She laid out her practice plans, her ambitions for the team’s success. And she promised the girls that they were going to train and play together as a real team, with a real rallying symbol. And then she snapped open the top, and flung back the cover of the box to reveal Colin.

Or rather, to reveal what Colin had become.

The poor boy was crammed into the box, his remaining dignity protected from the cold by a rubber catsuit. A metal contraption held him in an all fours position with cuffs locked shut around his wrists and ankles. Chains ran up to a thick leather collar and a leather waist belt, forcing him to remain looking downwards. His mouth was held open by a large ring gag, though the rest of his head was engulfed in a thick hood. The boy shuddered and shivered, though whether from the temperature, or from the knowledge that he was on display, it was hard to say.

The girls, for their part, were momentarily speechless. Then, almost as one, a barrage of questions thundered forth. Some of them stepped closer, partly from eagerness, partly from shocked disbelief. Others crowded in on Coach Stanton, asking her. What did this mean? Was this boy willing? Was he some sort of pet? Was he the prize?

Coach Stanton eventually managed to calm them down so that she could explain. The boy in the crate was their new secret team mascot. Before each practice, before each game, he would be bound and displayed as he was now. Girls could touch him, talk with him, do whatever they needed in advance of the game to calm their nerves. When they were ready to head out onto the ice, their boy would kiss their sticks and the metal of their skates before they went, to wish them luck. After the game or practice was done, whoever was voted by the team as having performed the best on the ice would get to come back to Coach Stanton’s home to play with the mascot.

What did she mean by play? The breathless questions came.

Coach Stanton simply smiled, reached down and gripped the boy’s rubber covered ass. Colin moaned and tried to thrust his hips, grinding the air in front and behind him. Several of the girls heard the distinct rattling of a lock from between his legs. The games, the coach explained, could be whatever they desired, with one simple limitation. She held up a key and gave Colin’s rump a spank. Coach Stanton would keep the key to his chastity cage until the team won a game.

The only chance this poor lad has of orgasming is if we win. And he will be working very hard to please each and every one of you, in this dressing room and in my home. Coach Stanton swiveled her gaze around the room as she slowly lowered herself to perch on the boy’s back, drawing a moan of pure desire from the gagged and bound rubber form. The girls all watched with rapt attention.

So if you wish to reward him for his hard work, you will put in hard work of your own, Stanton told the girls. Victory brings pleasure, for all of us.

It was slow going in their first few practices. Some of the girls warmed immediately to the idea, others were hesitant. But after the first few, their performance began to pick up. Girls who earned the right to a session with the boy described their enjoyment of dominating him under Lisa’s close supervision. Of his sweet mewling cries for release, for relief. Of his almost comical eagerness to please, whether in performance or sexual gratification. Of the quite moments afterwards when Lisa insisted that they calm and comfort the boy, even as he remained bound. Some of them choosing to massage him, others simply sitting near him and chatting with him, and still others pulling him into their lap to stroke his back and scritch his head.

By the time of the first game, every girl had had at least one session with the boy. Colin had grown on them all, in the dressing rooms before and after there was hardly a moment where someone’s hand wasn’t at least absently running over his bound form. And a growing desire to repay his diligence, his sweet submissiveness, and his plain desperation to finally orgasm.

The girls, needless to say, were driven.

The game was a roaring success. A striking five nothing victory, that sent the surprised fans cheering, and the girls into a frenzy of celebration. A celebration which truly kicked off at the afterparty at the coach’s home. There, with the team assembled in the large dungeon that Coach Stanton had built up, Colin was led out on a leash by the team’s goalie. Bound in a standing spread-eagle position, Coach Stanton then appeared and almost reverently unlocked the chastity cage that had imprisoned Colin for so long. With a relieved moan the boy felt her hands stroking him. Then they left him. Then a different set. And then another switch. And another. The top players from each of the shifts got to spool him up to the straining brink, before the goalie, the star of the game, finished him with gentle strokes and sweet whispers. Colin exploded, and the room exploded into cheers and whoops of joyful victory.

That first game quickly set the standard. The girls were simply driven as they never truly had been before. There were losses to be sure, but they were few and far between. Coach Stanton quickly expanded the roster of performance that earned a session with the boy. Goal scorers were soon allowed an hour per goal with their bound mascot. Top defence players would earn similar rewards, while the goalie was almost guaranteed several hours every week with the boy. For Stanton herself, she was contented enough to snuggle up to the strictly bound Colin in his tight rubber while she drifted off to sleep each night.

At the end of the season, Lisa Stanton was already planning for how to keep such a wonderful process going. There were other sweet submissive boys out there, who would make a wonderful fit as a mascot for her team. And likewise, some of her players would be graduating. It would be churlish not to offer them the chance to own the sweet boy who they had fought for and won so many wonderful orgasms for over the season. A trio of her senior players had only another season to go, so she would take the time to find a successor to Colin before she announced his final role. In a little graduation auction, wherein each of her departing girls would make their pitch for owning the boy. And then the team would vote to award him to one of them.

It was all about building team spirit, Coach Stanton would reflect with satisfaction each night, as she hugged Colin’s bound form tightly to her. Giving everyone a clear objective to work towards as part of a unit, and they would perform wonders.

All it had taken was one sweet, submissive, naïve young man to turn her team around…