A Whole New Game

by Quora

This may be fun but it is all fiction. Obviously.

"You bitch!" Screamed Shannon. "You fucking bitch!" She jabbed her pointing finger at the taller, heavier female – the one wearing the red bra and pants of the Whores with the big yellow 95 on her bra cups. "Do that again and I'll smash you so hard –"

"Quit it, number 44," growled the referee, running over to where the two underwear clad females were glaring at each other, almost nose to nose. "And put your helmet back on."

"Loser," grinned 95. But she stepped back a pace.

"And you too, back off," snapped the man in the striped black and white jersey, gesturing at the other, taller woman. "You're both here to play ball. Not fight."

"Yeah, well she's been punching my tits on every Goddamn play," spat Shannon as she flicked her brunette hair from her face and pulled her helmet back on. "And she's too fucking heavy. Bet she breaks the league regulations. Anyone ever shown her what whales look like?"

"Go screw yourself," said 95.

"We got a prime time audience," said the referee, looking from one female to the other.

"They want to see you play ball, not fight like two cats."

"I am a Cat," said Shannon. She glanced up at the scoreboard. Cats 21, Whores 17. Ten minutes left to play. "And hey bitch, we seem to be winning."

"Play ball," roared the ref, turning away, signaling to the sideline and the cameras. "First down to the Whores. Personal foul by Cats number 44."

"What the hell?" Bellowed Shannon, staring after the man. She started after him but her friend Danii caught her arm. "Let it go, El. Go get back into position."

Maybe Shannon wasn't focussing, but she slipped and lost the play. Then she was flattened by 95 again. Shan retaliated and was ejected. The woman stormed to the locker room with the Whore fans calling her every filthy name they could think of.

It was only when she got there she heard the roar that the Whores had scored and were ahead. Well, plenty of time for the Cats to get back, regain the lead. She tossed her helmet aside and sat on a bench, punching her fist into her open hand. Waiting for the noise from the Cats fans that they were back in front.

The ten minutes passed. There was no more explosions of sound. Only the dejected Cats players trailing in when it was all over.

Shannon Crawford felt sick to her stomach. A win would have put them in the play-offs. Now they had to wait on the result from the Boobs and the Garters game. Nothing more they could do.

"Don't worry about it," said Danii, peeling off her uniform, tossing the bra and pants on to the growing pile.

"I'm not," said Shannon, but she was lying. It was probably her fault they had lost. Another season screwed up.

The general manager came over to Danii and Shannon. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Asked Marcie Lowens, glaring at the still dressed Shannon. "Real dumb play out there.

Cost us big time," she said sourly, and turned away.

"Forget it. She's just mad right now," said Danii, standing naked, showing her bruises and her firm, muscled brown body. Her shaved mound, her firm high boobs. No wonder the fans loved Slutball.

Shannon stood and pulled off her bra. She examined a large purple bruise on her left breast. "I'm getting too old for this," she muttered, flexing her am to see how her breast felt.

"No," disagreed Danii. "We get a good result from the Garters and we're back in it. Then we need you rarin' to go against the Hookers."

"I'll be fined," said Shannon morosely. "Maybe suspended. And all of it on network TV too... The league will want me to do some PR work, show everyone we're decent sluts."

"So, go and sign a few autographs. It's no big deal." She paused, "Now get those pants off Shan and come in the shower with me before I change my mind and see if Lorna Myers wants to play at looking for the soap."

---

The fans waiting outside the stadium were the usual crowd of leering men, frustrated lesbian housewives and the occasional kid. They weren't in a hostile mood, but they would be if it went to the wire and the Hookers dumped on the Cats like the Whores had just done.

Another really screwed season, and contracts up for renewal. There'd be some hot looking, slender bitch working out right now, wanting to muscle in on a chance to play the game on TV. Someone calling themselves Killa or Demona, thinking they'd be the next Shannon 'Witch' Crawford. Could be, thought Shannon, if I turn in another show like that. Even Marcie wouldn't defend me against the owner. Just having a great figure and a mean attitude wasn't enough in Slutball.

Shannon had joined Danii and some of the other girls in signing autographs, smiling despite their bruised bodies and even more bruised egos. The Whores were there for the taking and the Cats came up short. Things like that hurt more than an elbow in the pussy.

Glad I got that cow of a 95 in her twat when I was ejected, Shannon smiled; she won't be having any sex for a while. Straight or lesbian or even playing with herself.

A woman was pushing through the press of fans, heading towards Shannon rather than any of the others. Shannon shot a look at Security, but the dykes who protected them weren't looking worried. Clearly not a disgruntled Whores fan, or would-be lover of that asshole Shannon had leveled with a knee to the cunt earlier. So if not some lez fan out for revenge, then what? Not an agent either with a contract offer from some no-hoper like the Slits. Now that would be funny.

"Ms Crawford," said the female, arriving in front of Shannon. Not a regular fan anyway: they all call Shannon by her proper name of Witch. As the placards held by fans said: 'Witch way to the endzone.'

"Yeah," said Shannon guardedly, gave a Security woman another glance, caught her eye. A look of 'Be ready if I need you.' Not that Shannon couldn't handle women like this. She was way too small and light to worry someone as tough as Shannon, but it was always best if Security did the battering off the field.

"I'm Cherry Love – not, not related to the actress," she said apologetically. She must get that a lot, thought Shannon, taking in her not unattractive face and blonde hair. Same sort of look if nothing else. "I just wondered if I could ask a favor." The woman pressed on, almost breathlessly.

Oh, here we go. The old line of 'I've been a fan of yours for years and I have this hotel room all to myself and I was wondering if we might share a bottle of champagne?' But the woman who looked like one of the top porn actresses, like she was named after her too, wasn't saying that.

"It's about my daughter. She wants to ask you a few questions. For her school newspaper."

The woman blushed a little. "She's the editor. She says some of the girls at her school think Slutball is great and would love to read how you were when you back at their age.

"You know, an interview sort of thing."

Shannon stared at the woman for a moment. She looked oddly familiar, like a younger version of someone she knew. "When I was younger, I didn't play Slutball back then," she said. "Not sure I can be much help."

"Uh, perhaps a little bit about what you thought about becoming an athlete?"

"I didn't think of anything back then. Sorry."

The woman looked crestfallen, and half turned away.

Danii elbowed her friend in the ribs. "Shan, think about it." She had overheard the conversation. "The league will be impressed if your doing the community stuff. Give the girl a first interview, then get your agent to circulate the story. It could be good for you, especially after the TV people got the slow-mo close up of how you felled that bitch.

That'll be all over the networks tomorrow."

Shannon nodded. It would make sense given the inevitable outcry about violence in a game where women dressed in lace underwear and shoved each other around. She reached out and caught Cherry Love's arm before she disappeared back into the fans.

"Sorry, Ms Love. I wasn't being rude. Really, I'd be happy to help out."

Cherry Love's attractive face lit up. "Great. My daughter Cherry will be so pleased."

---

The house was small and neat and Shannon stood on the porch, wondering about the wisdom of this. A woman called Cherry Love with a daughter called Cherry Love. Okay, they were a bit nuts. Okay, they probably didn't care about a game for scantily-clad, sexually-arousing females who pummeled each other over a ball. But, think of the league office. Think of avoiding a bigger fine and suspension. Think how that cunt-smashed 95 will never come near you again. Shannon knocked on he door softly, and waited.

The girl who opened the door was 14. Small braless tits poking under a thin, tight t-shirt, the same mop of blonde hair her mom had. Same cute face, but younger. A few freckles.

Wearing shorts that were a tad tight. Camel-toe tight. Hot enough for a girl who people would think was the real, dirty Cherry Love's daughter, but enough to make you want to look. The only thing that said she was a suburban kid really were the wire-frame spectacles.

They said geek, loud and clear.

"HI! I'm Chez," said the girl at the door. "You must be the Witch," she grinned, showing her braces.

"The Witch, yeah," said Shannon. She felt overdressed, wearing a plain cotton shirt and jeans. "So hi, Chez?"

The teenager giggled. "My mom calls me that, as she's Cherry and I am too. So Chez." She stood back to let Shannon enter. Small, neat house inside, clean and tidy, the mother hurrying out of the kitchen and smiling.

"Hello again," said the woman, extending her slim hand. "I am so pleased you could make it. Chez is too."

The girl nodded enthusiastically. Shannon shook the woman's hand, felt the warmth of her skin. Maybe under other circumstances – Shannon stopped the thought process. This was a sort of business arrangement. One hour interviewing, one suspension avoided, she hoped. No sex tonight. Game business, not fun.

Shannon was escorted into the small dining room, papers laid out on the table and a pen.

Old-fashioned, maybe not a family that were all digital. This school newspaper was probably hand written before being typed into some computer. It smacked of the old ways of doing things. Slow and deliberate, not like some on the spur of the moment decision to try ad wreck an opponent's sex life.

The Slutball player was invited to sit in a chair, opposite the girl, who was grinning at Shannon. The mother was fussing round, asking if anyone wanted a drink. Chez elected for a soda, Shannon declined, saying it was part of her contract to watch her figure. But she'd have some water, yes, when the woman pressed her.

At that news Chez began scribbling on a piece of paper; her first piece of information.

Well, this should be easy, thought Shannon.

"So how long have you played for the Whores?" Asked the teenager.

"Cats," said Shannon. Clearly not a fan, this one. "I play for the Cats, not the Whores."

"Oh sure," said the girl. Another scribble. Crossing something out.

"And you began when?"

"Five years ago. I was a rookie, made the position my own. About three seasons ago."

Shannon couldn't help feeling a swell of pride. She beat out the other girl, Sophie her name was. Sophie the Shark. Now the fans chanted Witch, not Shark.

"And why did you become a Slutball player?" The girl asked. Before Shannon could answer, the drinks arrived. Soda for the braless girl, water for the player. Cherry smiled at both of the females, then slid away.

"Money. Fame. Getting to hit other females." Shannon smiled. "No, don't write that. I did it because I wanted to be a model once. Good figure and I worked out, but the competition is real tough for new models. I wasn't really an actress. I didn't want to go into –" She didn't say 'the porn business' but after the merest hesitation, said "Modeling underwear."

"But that's what you do, right?" The girl was looking up earnestly. She extracted a photo from under a sheet of paper. A picture from a magazine, one called 'Slutball Power' and showing Shannon in an aggressive stance on the field, half crouching in her black lace pants and bra with a red 44 on her left bra cup. The same number on her right hip.

Unused garter straps hung from her pants. Standard uniform for a Slutball player. She had black sweat bands on, thin leather gloves. On her feet were sports shoes; enough to grip the surface. But then people who paid to watch the game liked to see these women fall over and slip. It made for exciting plays, cheap thrills. That and wrestling other attractive, similarly dressed young females. The helmet Shannon wore was black with the outline of a black mountain lion, snarling with red eyes. The number 44 on it prominently, the same she wore as a tattoo on her right bicep along with a drawing of a witch. A personal choice in black and red, made better because Shannon's tensed muscles were gleaming with sweat.

In the picture, Shannon looked mean. She had thick black lines under her eyes to reduce the glare, and she was frowning. Watching some opposition bitch, ready to knock her over. Shannon recognized the place where the picture was taken; Va stadium where the Gina's played. Taken in the play-offs last season; a 30-24 road win. Awesome show.

"You like wearing this slut stuff?" asked the girl. A proper journalist would have phrased it differently, but this was a girl and she said it like she didn't know about subtlety.

"It's what they give us to wear," said Shannon with a shrug. "It's in the contract. The fans like it."

The girl blinked behind her wire-frames. "And the fans pay the wages," she nodded. Smart kid, thought Shannon. Smarter still when she said: "And the TV companies who livecast it."

Shannon nodded. Eight million viewers minimum each game, usually more. Get a game like the Whores and the Cats on air and the figures would be twelve million. And that led to endorsements and media coverage and better contracts. It was win-win, providing you could win.

"But you can't keep it up," said Chez, seriously.

"Why not?" Shannon sipped the water. It tasted funny but she swallowed it.

"Because of how old you are." A pause. "Twenty seven. I don't watch the games myself, but my friend Charlene says you get burned out at that age. Younger women coming in with better bodies." her eyes flickered over Shannon. Looking at her boobs under her shirt.

"Younger girls with better figures. Bigger tits, that's what they want."

Shannon felt her face heat up. How did this kid know her age? Oh sure, research, but why bring it up? Yeah, sure there'd be some younger sluts trying to impress the team in the off-season. Always were. But Shannon had dealt with them before. She said so, not especially clearly, as she sipped her water again. She needed it; she was feeling weird.

"Look, Chez, I'm young enough and healthy and experience ish – playsh – a big part." She felt dizzy, put the glass back down, Then picked it up again, unsure what she was doing.

"We beat the Shlits lasht season, won the Bowl. That meansh–" She was slurring her words.

The room was moving, which was distinctly strange. The kid was grinning up at Shannon.

The mother was there too, laughing as well. A pair of Cherries. Ripe, thought Shannon as she fell from her chair.

---

The cuffs holding her wrists above her head were tight but not painfully so. Shannon lay on her back on the double bed, but to one side. It took her a few moments to get a grip on where she was, how she felt. The fact that she couldn't move her hands away from above her head bothered her, but there had to be an explanation. She wanted to check but her head felt bad at being moved. She looked round the room, feeling her head pound, feeling bad. It was a teenager's room. Posters on the walls of bands and singers. A film poster of a movie called 'Terror Teens' announced They Were Coming. Okay, that figured, thought Shannon. Somehow the kid – or her mom – had slipped something in the water.

Bitches. So here she was, cuffed to the bed, just lying there.

There were also a couple of posters on the wall of Shannon playing ball. The Witch, one of the posters was labeled. A shot of Shannon flattening some helpless Hoe player. The other one was a portrait, no helmet, just eye black. She was clean, not dirty. Before a game.

There was handwritten note on it. All Mine, it said, in a girl's handwriting.

The girl came in to her bedroom, grinning at her prisoner. "Hey," she said, as if she liked Shannon. "How're you feeling?"

Shannon said nothing.

"Oh c'mon, speak to me."

The brunette glared at the blonde girl. "Okay, you made whatever point you wanted to. Get me out of this now."

"No," said the girl as she flopped on the bed.

"Listen, Cherry – Chez," said Shannon with menace in her voice. "This is wrong. Period.

Okay, maybe you don't like Slutballers but there'll be big trouble from this. I can assure you this will mean a lot of trouble. Prison for your mom. Juvie court and a home for you. At the very least."

"Nah," grinned the girl. She was fully on the bed now, lying alongside Shannon. Head propped up on one hand. "No one knows you're here. You just disappeared. Anyway, you're a beat up old Slutball player. No one will miss you. Some other chick with boobs will come in to replace you. Just like they do on the field." She was looking at Shannon, her eyes sparkling under her wire-frames. "But think of it this way. I saved you from being cut. Booted out. You might've end up at some no-hoper shit hole like the Tarts, if you got lucky. Back up to some big boobed dyke."

"We're not all like that," said Shannon, trying to keep her cool. Simply getting angry now would do no good. "And I doubt you can keep me here forever. Some point you have to let me up."

Chez shrugged. "We got plenty of chains. Plenty of time to train you."

"Train me for what?" A small alarm sounded in Shannon: this girl was too damned assured, too knowing.

"Whatever I decide. Lover, slave..." she shrugged, not moving her head from her supporting hand.

"Let me talk to your mom. She will see sense."

"Mom will do what I say, and I say you stay."

"No fucking way." Angrily, Shannon ratted the cuffs above her head. They hurt, more so when the girl reached up and clicked the ratchet a little tighter.

"First rule," the girl said, returning to her relaxed position. "Lie still. I can make you a lot more uncomfortable than this." Another grin. "You 'ballers have to learn the plays, so here's my first play as your new coach: you behave and it isn't so bad."

"Okay, so I play ball." Shannon took a deep breath. "Then what?"

"Then we play Chezball." She laughed. "A new game in town. I get to keep you. I get to do what I like."

"So why me?" Asked Shannon. "I ain't rich if you're looking for a ransom. The Cats won't pay for me. Especially if you're right and I'm gonna be cut."

"Oh I'm right," said Chez. "You see, my mom knows someone you know. Actually, I do too."

"Marcie," said Shannon with a gasp as it came clear where the similarities were. "Marcie Lowens!"

"Ah good, you recognized the family resemblance." Chez looked happy. "Not Love at all. But then isn't our name, either."

Shannon felt hot again, that she'd been so stupid. Security always said that in a game like Slutball there'd be lots of weird fans. Men with small dicks, pervs, women who suddenly wondered what having a sports star in bed would be like. Someone different from hubby.

"So you heard some rumor–"

"Not a rumor!" Chez sat up. "Fact. You are history, girl. Someone else will be wearing 44 soon enough. Some other Cat bitch." Another grin, showing the braces. "Bigger boobs. The networks are worried that small tits like yours aren't pulling in the viewing figures. It figures," she added and enjoyed her own joke.

"Slutball is a game," said Shannon defensively.

"Slutball is on-grass porn," said the teenage girl, dismissively. "It is about women in trashy underwear chasing each other, tits bouncing. All those fans want to see wardrobe malfunctions: pants being ripped off, boobs flopping out. Marcie knows it, everyone knows it." she gurgled a laugh. "You think it matters who wins? Bullshit; it's about bra sizes and how you look in lingerie. Hey, those spare garters you got? Apparently there's a TV plan you sluts play in stockings soon. The fans'll love runs and tears in nylons. Maybe timeouts so you can put clean ones on. Penalty yards for seams that aren't straight. God, they are really perverted!"

The girl bounced off the bed. She was still wearing what she had on earlier downstairs, but she began to peel it off. Thin t-shirt, her small boobs coming free. No bra, of course.

"I don't get what you want from me," said Shannon, watching the girl with fascination.

"To play," said the girl, pushing down her tight shorts. No pants, of course. The girls lightly haired mound came into view at once. Shannon tried hard not to but gulped.

"Play what?" Ridiculous question and Chez laughed.

"You'll see." Chez stepped out of her shorts, kicked them aside.

"I can't have sex like this," said Shannon, giving her hands a tug again. "If that's what you want."

"Oh don't worry. You'll learn," said the 14 year old. She stood at the side of the bed. "Like what you see here?"

"This is wrong," said Shannon. But she couldn't take her eyes off Chez. Not with her small boobs and surprisingly hard, brown nipples and her soft, downy sex. She felt her own nipples harden, her clit swelling. She wriggled a little. “You shouldn’t."

"Hush," said Chez, climbing on the bed. She leaned over and kissed Shannon the Witch, gently and then deeply. Tongue probing, making the woman on the bed even more excited. Shannon wriggled more and moaned with it. The cuffs didn't give, the girl didn't stop.

Chez moved her hands down and began unbuttoning Shannon's shirt, exposing her bra.

Not lace, like she wore on the field. Just plain, but nice nonetheless. Not black, and with no number on it. Just peach colored. Chez's hands were on the woman's breasts, then inside the bra. Shannon's tongue was running on the girl's braces as she kissed back. It was weird but sexy in a crazy way. She could not stop Chez pressing and rubbing her boobs, teasing her nipples inside the bra. But she didn't want to. Then Chez was undoing Shannon's jeans, working her hands inside them in turn. Down inside her tight, peach pants.

The brunette's legs were apart a little, to let the teenager in. Not wide enough though; her jeans would have to come off.

But suddenly Chez was on the woman, straddling her, her hand no longer in the brunette’s pants. Shannon moaned in frustration. But the naked teenager's small, wet pussy was moving up. It was obvious; Shannon was going to have to lick the girl's pussy, get her tongue against the immature lips. Taste the girl.

She did. Couldn’t help herself. And it felt wonderful.

But then it stopped as soon as it began, leaving Shannon wriggling in frustration. Pleading to continue.

"Not yet," said the girl, grinning. "You have to really want it," she said. She hopped off the bed, leaving the player moaning and begging. The girl puled on a large loose t-shirt, something she obviously slept in. "I'm tired and it's time for sleep. You'll be okay like that.

A mess, but hey, it's okay, I don't mind." She went out to the bathroom, leaving Shannon lying in quiet desperation. Maybe when she came back and got in bed, on her side, the girl might take pity on Shannon and finish her off. Just a few rubs on her clit would do it.

---

It was frustrating, lying there. The girl had curled up next to Shannon and gone to sleep, one hand resting on her breasts. Not playing, not toying. Just a relaxed hand on what she now owned. A Slutballer of her very own. Not at all like the image on the posters, not now.

Stripped of her clothes, a blanket wrapped round her to keep her warm, Shannon was alone on the bed now. It was morning and Chez had gone to school. Not even a wave or a kiss goodbye when she left. All Shannon could hear was the girl calling to her mom that she would be late for school and gotta dash. Like any normal teenage girl anywhere.

Except this one had kidnapped an athlete.

"Your not on the news, I'm afraid," said Cherry the mother when she brought the cuffed woman her breakfast. A simple bowl of cereal. She said it kindly, feeding the helpless Shannon before she helped her to her OJ and a cup of weak coffee. "Oh, and by the way, bad news," sighed Cherry. "That other team? The Garters won. Boobs drooped, sort of. I hear that means your old team is out of those play-offs." The woman sighed, holding the cup steady. "Guess they won't miss you much after all. Shame, but as my daughter says, we all have to move on."

"Listen, my career's not over. Once the police find out I'm missing they'll track me down and then I can resume."

Cherry smiled and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"So you are as crazy as your kid?"

"Crazy, goodness me, no!" The older woman shook her blonde head. "Believe me, Chez – she tell you that was her preferred name? – Well, she really does have her head on right. Trust me. This was all her plan."

"Hmm, bad plan. I have friends. Even the team wants me."

Another sigh from Cherry. "I hear not. You missing saves them a bundle. You see, something about reneging on your contract. You walking out on the team. No compensation then. Of course, I'm only telling you what I heard. I don't really follow it all."

"That bitch Lowens told you that."

"Not so much of a bitch, but yes. She mentioned it." The woman stood and gathered up the breakfast things, putting them out of reach. "Now, you will need the bathroom. I need to chain your ankle to the bed. Don't worry, we have lots of chain to reach, and you can go and bathe and do whatever. Oh yes, nearly forgot." The woman picked up a pair of latex gloves by the side of the bed. She snapped them on. "This is our little plan to stop you thinking of making a fuss. You see, we have this little electrical arrangement. I put the chain on your ankle, put a couple of wires on the chain at this end and as soon as you make any noise or make trouble, then I flip a switch on a cute little box we have and you get a shock. Terrible prospect, I know, but has to be done."

Shannon stared. "You're going to electrocute me in the bathroom?"

"Don't be silly," the woman laughed. "Just a little sharp shock to remind you to behave.

Unless you prefer me to come in with you, make sure you behave that way?"

Shannon grimaced. "So you want me too. Like the little cow did?"

"Want you? Goodness me, no! What do you think I am? Not one of your dyke team-mates."

She shuddered. "You belong to Chez. And she isn't a little cow. If she heard you say that she would be upset." The woman leaned in closer. "And I can tell you when she's upset she isn't nice. Trust me."

"She wasn't nice last night."

"Really? She told me you liked being kissed and played with." Cherry shook her head.

"Quite enjoyed it, she said. Even asked for more. But she did say too that if you play nicely she will do more things for you. Now, let's get your chain on and get you ready."

"Before you do, I want you to answer a question."

"Go on. But I can't promise anything."

Shannon took a deep breath. "Is the lit– I mean, Is Chez going to keep me chained to the bed all the time?"

Cherry looked blank. "I really don't know. She only tells me what she wants to tell me. But privately," the mother dropped her voice as if sharing a secret. "I think she really likes you in which case she will let you up and around on the end of a chain."

---

Shannon was sat up on the bed when Chez got home. The brunette was naked and had her hands cuffed behind her, but attached to what had turned out to be a strong bed frame.

And the ankle chain was there, mostly lying looped on the bed with the other end padlocked to the frame lower down the bed.

"Hey," said the girl, steaming into the bedroom and looking approvingly at the naked, secured Shannon. "You 'kay? Mom says you needed a shock, that right?"

Shannon shook her head. "She said I was too slow in the bathroom. That she needed to get me moving." She sighed. "I didn't need it as such."

"But you're okay now?" The teenager looked concerned.

Shannon stared at the girl. "You know what it's like?"

The teenage girl shook her head and looked apologetic. "Only what Mom told me it was like, when she tried it for me."

Shannon took a deep breath. "I'd be a lot better if I didn't have to sit in here all day."

Chez smiled, quite gently. "Well, as soon as I know I can trust you I can let you get up, move around some. Maybe even help Mom round the house. I'm sure you two could be real good friends."

The naked woman gulped a little, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You want me and her to have sex?"

The teenager threw her head back and laughed, then pulled a face. "Yuk, you and her. I don't think so!" A pause. "Anyway, she's not gay."

"And you are?"

The girl shrugged. "Dunno. I wanted to find out. None of my friends would do it, so... I saw this picture of you and thought wow, a good-looking woman. She'd be fun to try it with. Then I heard about your contract stuff from Aunt Marcie and how bad the team was and I thought, hey, the perfect person."

Shannon stared at the girl. "You could have just asked me."

Chez gave a snort of derision, halfway between a chuckle and sneer. "Yeah, like you'd look at a girl like me and say, hey, cool."

"I know some women who go for girls. I could help you find one."

"Yeah, but they might be some old bag. You know, like Mrs Tyson at school. She's ancient but she always is trying to get her hand up some of the girls' skirts. Forever groping, she is. Groper, we call her." Another chuckle, another wrinkle of the cute nose. One that Shannon wanted to kiss fro some reason.

Shannon swallowed. "I was thinking of finding someone you'd like the look of."

"I got that already," smiled the teenager. "Right here ‘n’ waiting. Anyways, got to go and do my homework. Math, huh?" She rolled her eyes.

"Chez... wait. Please."

"Please what?" The girl had turned to leave but turned back.

"I was wondering if I could watch you do your homework."

The girl laughed. "And try to help, I guess." She considered it for a moment and then shook her head. "I’d be in real trouble if you told me something and it was wrong." She paused and looked serious. “Look, it's too early to have you downstairs."

"I'd have my chain on," said Shannon. "And the cuffs. I guess too the shock thing wired up. Make sure I behaved."

Chez pursed her lips, then showed her braces in a broad, sympathetic smile. "Sorry, not today. But maybe this will help." She began to undo her school clothes, letting the chained woman see her get naked. A slim, smooth and firm body being revealed. No bruises or marks like you got in the locker room, just perfection.

"You will be doing your homework with no clothes on?" Shannon even said it without gulping.

Chez shrugged. "Guess so. But you get to see me this way for a moment, and then... If it all goes okay, I'll come and see you." The teenager was naked now, her small breasts every bit as lovely as yesterday evening. Her downy pubic mound looked as soft as before.

Tempting, and Shannon couldn't help lick her lips.

"You know I do like you," said the now naked girl, standing where the woman could get a good view of her. She turned on her heel and showed herself all round. God, thought the cuffed female, even her ass looks sweet.

"I like you too," said Shannon, eyes still on the girl's slit where it showed as a thin line, when she had turned back. The girl put the tip of her forefinger in her lips, by way of showing what she liked. Shannon did gulp at that.

"I know you do," said Chez softly. Then she climbed on the bed, muttering how this wouldn't get her homework done and how Mr Grazione would be real upset if it wasn't right, and she opened her legs and lowered herself on to Shannon's toes. "Wiggle it," she said when her young pussy was lightly touching Shannon's right big toe. Shannon did, and sat there watching spellbound as the teenage girl twisted and moaned as the woman's big toes stroked and caressed and even entered, briefly, into the girl's damp lips.

Then after a few minutes the girl hopped off, grinned at the woman looking flushed, and hurried off to see to Mr Grazione's problems.

---

The woman at the door was Cherry. It was an hour later, and the woman was looking happy. “She sent me up to say hi, that her work’s going real good. I asked her to put something on, instead of sitting naked but she said you liked the idea, so…’ The mother shrugged. “She’s going to watch some TV when she’s done, and have some milk and cookies. Then maybe she’ll think it’s bedtime." Another smile, wider.

“Cherry. Is there any way I can persuade you to let me out of this leg chain."

“What?" the mother’s face dropped into a frown. “If Chez heard you –"

“No, not go free. The cuffs can stay. Just so I can go downstairs and you know, see her. Maybe kneel by the chair while she watches TV. I’d be good."

The smile came back to Cherry’s face. “You really like her, don’t you?"

Shannon nodded. “It’s hard being here all day, waiting."

“Tell me about it!" Shannon looked at the mother. “She ever done this to you."

“Maybe," said the woman, a little hesitantly. “But that’s for her to tell you. Right now it’s you she wants, and she wants you here and waiting." The woman looked over her shoulder, was satisfied Chez wasn’t heading up the stairs and came and sat on the edge of the bed. “Listen, hon. I know it’s hard. And the shock this morning… I had to do it. So you’d know how serious Chez is." She reached out and touched the brunette’s bare leg, below the knee. Trying to be comforting. It was the first time the woman had touched Shannon, apart from a handshake. She was thinking about what to say. “Chez is really very nice, when she’s happy. And she is happy with you. But you have to help her. Just accept what’s happening, don’t make waves and she will let you watch TV with her. Maybe eat with her downstairs."

“I could be her friend."

The woman shook her head. “I think she wants to own you. She’ll be nice to you, but not be your friend."

Shannon nodded. “And I guess it’s out of the question that one day she and I could go out someplace. Together."

Sadly, Cherry shook her head. “You are too well known. Guess you got a bit famous on the team. Oh sure, they’ll forget you at the Cats. Bound to; they have to. You have friends there?"

“Not many. Mostly just Danii. She’ll miss me."

“Sorry," said the mother. “I’d love you to send her a message but it isn’t going to happen."

“No," said Shannon. “I understand."

“Just be brave and we will see what happens," said Cherry brightly. She patted the woman’s leg again and got up. “You know, it’s funny you being here. Chez and I talked about it, planned it. Lot of work, making sure."

“And if I’d said no to the interview?"

Cherry shrugged. “Best not to think about that. Let’s just say there were alternatives. It’s good that you did come the way you did; believe me, it would have been worse by another method." The woman went to the door. “So Chez is doing well downstairs, and she says… She says she hopes you’re fine."

“I am," nodded Shannon, suddenly feeling happier. That maybe the girl cared.

—-

That night was the best Shannon had ever known. She licked and lapped at the warm, delightful young cunt above her face, kissed the girl's small clit (no teeth, she was warned, and obeyed) and never complained about her cuffs or even the chain on her ankle. She was permitted to kiss Chez, tongue roaming over the child's braces, and had her own breasts teased and pulled and her nipples gently twisted, which made her climax with startling speed. Chez had grinned and smiled and cooed and kissed and acted like she loved Shannon. But she didn't say she did, as much as the cuffed helpless woman yearned to hear the words. It was almost as if Chez knew and was teasing the captive female.

The girl even flicked at Shannon's hard, proud clit, making her scream with pleasure. So much so that Cherry came running, and was relieved to see her daughter was fine.

Shannon apologized, too. promised to be quiet if only the girl would do that again, but Chez wouldn't. "Mustn't disturb Mom," she whispered and giggled. But she stroked Shannon's face, making her sadness slip away, and promised she would do things like that to her soon.

It was only when Cherry came in and again and said it was school tomorrow and time to stop that the two females disentangled. No more kisses, advised the mother, and definitely no fingering. She waited while her daughter tucked herself and the chined female under the covers that she turned the light, then whispered. "Sleep well, you two," and closed the door.

In the dark Shannon felt the girl snuggle up to her. After a moment or two, Shannon said quietly. "Thanks for what you did to me."

"Thanks?"

"You know. making me cum and stuff."

"It's okay," Shannon could sense the girl was smiling. "I guess there's a lot more of that ahead. Providing you behave."

Another silence. Then the brunette said. "When you trust me, will you take my cuffs off?"

"Dunno," said the girl. "I kinda like you chained up. Like you're my pet."

Shannon nodded, feeling the girl's soft blonde hair on her face. She liked the feeling, and pressed her face in closer. The girl said: "One day you could be free and doing stuff and the next, well... just in bed, waiting for me."

"Like this,"

"Yeah," the girl sighed. "It's fun, having you naked. Maybe stretched out. You know, open and ready. Me on top, right?"

"Will I be naked all the time?"

Another dunno. "But no more uniform. Leastways not like those whores."

Shannon almost said Cats, but she got the message. Anyway the Cats and the rest of it was behind her. She sensed that. No more hits and plays and angry coaches and jeering fans. No more critical media, no more close ups of her body. At least not to strangers.

Only to the importnat people. "So, Chez, what uniform you want me in?"

"Too many questions," sighed the girl, sleepily. "Tired. Need to sleep."

"Sure," said Shannon. The former Slutballer kissed the girl's head, heard her purr. Then she went to sleep too and didn't feel the chains, only the warmth and closeness of the teenage girl who owned her. And the hand on her breast, cupping it gently but firmly. Like she owned it.