Kinktober 2023 #1 - Competition/Pressure

Content Warnings: BDSM Fantasy, consensual, dubiously consensual, bondage,  bondage slavery, legal slavery, Legalities

When Stability returned it rapidly became clear that in some ways society had not only stagnated, but regressed. 

Cristina sold herself the day she turned eighteen. She didn’t even finish high school. It had always been her plan. She didn’t have the head or the patience to keep going to either school or any kind of college, she had no interest in minimum-waging her way through life, and a slave could spouse-hunt at least as well as she could as a free woman. You heard about rich people freeing a slave to marry them all the time, no matter what her family tried to tell her about the long odds of that happening. It never crossed Cristina’s mind that she would end up as anything but the personal property of a well-off man or woman. Sure, it was technically possible she could end up as a worker if she was bought by a restaurant or hotel or something. But that wouldn’t happen to Cristina. She was willing, a gorgeous natural redhead, and had kept a tight lid of her virginity in preparation for selling herself. The competition might be stiff, but Cristina was confidant she would be joining someone's “household staff.”

She was wrong.

Instead of being bought by a high powered lawyer, executive, or socialite as she’d expected, or by a business as she’d feared, Cristina was bought by a soccer team.

The team’s purchasing agent gave her a single hard, unexpected spank and grabbed her by the chin when he heard her call it that.

“Futbal,” he said firmly. He had a Mexican accent dark sunglasses and a thick mustache. “Never call it soccer again. You’ve been bought by a futbal team.”

Cristina had always played sports. Soccer—or futbal—in the spring, basketball in winter, tennis in summer and fall. It was both fun and a great outlet for all the energy her older sister put into schoolwork and her older brother put into dating and spouse-hunting. But she had never dreamed of trying to play sports professionally. She wasn’t anywhere near good enough to play at that level!

“Of course not,” scoffed the agent when she told him as much. “What, you think you’re going right onto the field? No, you’re going to spend the next few years in a training camp. If you do well, you’ll join the team. If you don’t, you’ll be in even better shape than you are now and we can sell you ourselves. Then we either make a profit or most of our money back.”

It… didn’t sound so bad, actually.

Sports weren’t the big money makers they’d been before the Crisis, but they did enough business to survive. Apparently women’s leagues, specifically, were a lot better off now than they’d been before. Cristina had never seriously thought about trying to become an athlete but… well, she didn’t really have a choice anymore, did she?

And three years later, she made it. After a lot of intense training and an absolute TON of improvement, Cristina debuted for the El Paso Rattlesnakes halfway through the season as one of about a third of the players the team owned rather than just employed. She wasn’t the best player, but she wasn’t the worst either, and she was getting a little better with every game.

It helped that slave-players like her were given a little extra incentive to excel. In was a high-pressure, extremely competitive environment, Cristina’s owners thought it was best to find ways to motivate their players as much as they could.

For starters, Cristina’s chastity belt—a light model that barely impeded her mobility—only really came off after a win. At least during the season.

After one home game, Cristina found herself in a very tight hogtie. She’d showered with the team and they’d done their post-game rituals before the slave-players reported to the punishment and reward room. Then came the bondage.

She’d put a uniform back on, one that she hadn’t just spent hours sweating into, and even put on some socks without the pads underneath. Something about wearing the uniform of the El Paso Rattlesnakes made the post-game consequences matter more to Cristina.

Her legs were tied together at the ankles, knees, and thighs, on top of her calves and thighs being bound together in a frogtie. Then Cristina’s arms were bound behind her back, her elbows very nearly touching, her forearms tied to her stomach, and then again to the rope at her ankles. Her chest harness was downright intricate, catching her upper arms and her breasts in a web of rope. A deliriously tight crotch was ripping into her.

Then came the gag, wads of cloth were shoved into her mouth before half a roll of medical tape was wrapped around and around Cristina’s head.

The end result? Cristina could barely move. There was no give to her limbs, and her neck was trapped in a stiff posture collar. The most she could do was wriggle around, using her core strength to shift from side to side, softly mmmmmm-ing in her private corner of the room while her teammates went through their own tailored consequences.

“Hey everyone, I’m sorry. I know you prefer to keep this private, but I’m in a hurry and I really need to ask Rosa where she put my—what the fuck? Why are you doing that to Cristina? We won the game!”

A host of unbound, mostly naked slave-players all looked up from their vibrators, fingers, and whatever else they used for their personal post-win rewards to face the team’s rookie goalie, Dani, as one. Except for Cristina herself, who was too lost in her own little world to notice what was going on outside of it.

It was Rosa who answered with a shrug. “This is how she likes to be rewarded. She says it’s the best way for her to blow off steam.”

“Huh. What… what happens when we lose?”

Another shrug. “She has to watch it happen to the rest of us. It makes her go a little loco.”

“Huh,” was again all Dani could say. She was still thinking of it a little while later, when she had retrieved her keys from Rosa and was on her way home for her own post-game rituals.

Finally, halfway there, she stopped worrying about it. If Cristina liked getting tied up to blow off steam, that was her business. Everyone dealt with the pressure in their own way.