Author Topic: Out of Bounds  (Read 4482 times)

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October 02, 2017, 02:45:20 PM

Offline SportyVictim

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Out of bounds

A fiction by Badman and Sporty Victim.
Edited by Sporty Victim

WARNING!    You must be 18 or over to read these stories of rape and non-consensual sex.  This particular story features characters under the age of 18.  If you do not like such stories, please stop reading. This story is all fiction and no characters in it are meant to resemble any real person.

Chapter 1


It had been an impulsive thing to do. There she was in the shower, all alone and oblivious to his presence. The boys were raucous next door as usual after a win away and as the Coach,
Chet had felt obliged to check on Lana. He’d never meant to go into the shower area, but something inside him was drawn to look.

She was bent over, scrubbing her hair, and before he knew why his phone was out and he was recording.

Only when she stood up to rinse, did he take a guilty step back and pocket the phone. Trying to keep the shake out of his voice, he yelled out “Lana you okay in there?”
“Yes, Coach”
“We’ve got 15 minutes until the bus leaves. Don’t be late, alright”
“Okay Coach I’ll be ready”

He left the room and stood outside composing himself before going to chivvy the boys up.


Now sitting at his desk filling in the paperwork for the next away game, he played the illicit, damning video back. Crystal clear on the screen, her skin glistened soapy and smooth.  His 14-year-old protégé.  It was so wrong, yet…

The next away game would involve a two-night stopover in a cheap hotel and he was going over room allocations.  He felt a little sick as he set his plan in motion, that’s why he needed the movie to watch. As a reminder of the prize if he had the courage to follow through.

He knew with grim certainty that once he passed the threshold, there would be no going back.  No undoing this. Part of him was terrified. But the larger part was excited and aroused.  With a few strokes of the pen, he sealed Lana's fate and his own together.

He had no idea how far this path would take them both.


Lana turned the water off and grabbed the towel on the hook just outside the shower area.  She nonchalantly started drying her short black hair, at first bent over, then standing straight; the curtain of the long teal towel dancing before her eyes.

A weird feeling crept in her then as she realized that she was standing blind there, in the middle of a very open and public place, her arms up and apart, very exposed.  It was a silly feeling; the entire area had been emptied just for her.   Surely no-one would burst in without warning.

She almost hated herself when she realized that she was drying herself in a way that hid her entire front side.  This insecurity had to stop.

It’s been nearly a year now.  Everyone has been telling me that I’m improving impressively fast.  They don’t even add the stupid “for a girl” line.  Though…  Geez, I wish I could read boys…

The coach…  That was even worse.  Impossible to read.  Never satisfied.  He was so good at giving advice.  He knew hockey in and out and really had an eye for the tiniest mistakes, from bad puck protection to the wrong position on the ice to missed passing opportunities.  The entire team had been improving and feeling like they really had a good leader, one that could get them to championships for the first time.

But although he did give general pep-talks and encouragement for the whole team, no individual ever really seemed to get his approval.  There was always something to improve.  Lana, in particular, had much to improve.  She wished she had one ally in the team.  Someone that was clearly supportive of her because they liked her.

As she got dressed, hoping that she wasn’t being too slow, the tone of her coach echoed in her mind.
That tone that implied that he feared she would delay the whole team.  That she would fail them.

He’s like that with everyone, Lana.

She looked around many times, nervous that she was forgetting something.  Unable to convince herself that she was indeed, in the eyes of the coach, just one of the boys.

Though none of her teammates had said anything about it, everyone knew that soon, they would be old enough to start playing with contact and that she wouldn’t follow, probably regressing to a more recreational league.  In the eyes of her coach, that must mean that she wasn’t really worth the investment in time.

She looked around one last time, grabbed her things and left, exaggerating her fatigue as a reason not to force a smile as she joined the gleeful boys in the entrance hall.


Planning and strategy are a big part of a coach’s repertoire so, now that he has set his goal, Chet sets to work on his plans for Lana.

With her being the only girl on the squad it is a lot simpler in most ways but riskier in others. At least no-one can suspect him of anything at the moment.

Lana's parents obviously trust him as they only ever come to the home matches and have no problem with her putting in extra hours or staying in motels.  In fact, the entire school trusts him otherwise they'd never be letting him supervise the team alone on away trips. This is his ace.

Also to his advantage is his philosophy that a team is important and no single player is. He doesn't' play favourites and, while he is happy to let a team bond outside of the game, he is the boss on and off the rink. The players respect him and never quite meet his expectations which drive each to be better which benefits the whole team.

But with a few exceptions, there is no real closeness between players off the pitch. No real friction either. Lana, because of her gender is the most isolated and eager of them all.

If I push and push she'll make mistakes, get sloppy and then I'll begin beasting her.

He turned to his schedule and mapped out the sessions where he would keep her behind for extra drills.


He began at the very next practice. Picking up on the minor faults and making her work harder than anyone else. To his surprise and good fortune, rather than sympathise with her, the other players shunned her, as if her clumsiness was contagious. He even suspected one or two were deliberately throwing passes short or a bit too wide for her. By the end of the session, when he called everyone in, she was out of breath, sweat rising as steam in the cold air from her clothes. As they all turned to leave the ice "Not you, Lana. Come here, the rest of you go!"

Standing there, with head down and shoulders slumped, he felt an illicit thrill and some sympathy. Knowing why he was doing this and picturing her in the shower again, he quelled any pity he had and started on her.

"What was that tonight, Lana? My mother can play better than you and she is in a nursing home. I expect better from you. No. No arguments unless you want to quit? Do you want to quit Lana? Is that it?"

She gave him a shocked and then defiant look.


"Markus and Jay couldn't pass for shit, what am I to do? Why pick on me?"

She looked at his condescending reaction, his way of just crossing his arms in silent reproach and felt rage explode inside of her that for a second paralyzed her.

A loud part of that explosion in her was fuming at what she tried to convince herself was an injustice. Deeper, though, she felt that she did miss many of her plays. None of her coach's comments were wrong. After being told - and telling herself - so many times, she still wasn't holding her stick tight enough. She still constantly got humiliated by an opponent who would dodge her as she darted too aggressively on him. The rage, her usual reflex in face of adversity, felt bitter.

Of course, he replied in his usual deep voice that none of her mistakes were her teammates’. And the usual get-your-shit-together speech. It was the culminating point of a dreadful practice.


She stayed silent at dinner that night, replaying every moment where her coach had pointed out her mistakes. Finding others where he didn't say anything, but might easily have. Arguing in her mind to defend herself and never satisfied of her own responses. Her parents had let her be by herself, their acceptation of her mood like a confirmation that they viewed her as just an angsty teen that was like that when she had a slightly bad day.

Later, she laid in bed in her pajamas with a black cloud over her head, heavy metal music playing loud on speakers, until her father eventually came to tell her that she should get to sleep and that her quota of music was definitely passed for the day. He stood there in the doorway as she went to the laptop and turned the music off.  He looked relieved then, and softened.

“Need anything, sweetie? Glass of water?”
“I'm fine, dad. 'Night now.”

He smiled sadly at her curt tone, turned the light off and closed the door.

Monday night practices had always kept Lana awake for long hours. The adrenalin of the practice kept her mentally alert and made her Tuesday mornings at school awful.  Masturbating often helped, but tonight, she just couldn’t.  Her mind wandered as she touched herself and she never got close to an orgasm.

So she went back to tossing and turning.

Around 1 am, she was still wide awake.  The house was quiet, the parents no doubt asleep, the whole town but her got to rest.  The frustration made it even more difficult to relax.  It was time to do something other than try to sleep.  She pushed her dirty clothes on the floor under her door to hide the light and turned her nightstand lamp on, taking her computer to her bed.

She spent some time looking at the void of facebook, but her mind was just waiting for an opportunity to push her to look for porn.  She rarely did it, but every once in a while, part of her convinced her that there was something there to be found.  She reached in the drawer of the nightstand for headphones and plugged them in, sat up against a pillow on the headboard and placed the laptop between her legs, her bent knees creating tent with the comforter to hide the computer and let her see the screen.  Hopefully, if she got caught, she got caught listening to music.

She watched a few random clips that didn’t do much for her, lesbians making out in the least realistic way, a blowjob that looked really uncomfortable, some penetrations in weird positions, her fascination never managing to outweigh her disgust.  Eventually, she turned to the one clip that she knew how to find on the web, the link her friend Sarah had sent her as a joke a year before.

The scratching noises of the microphone on some camera were accompanied by a blurry hand taking all of the screen, then moving away to reveal a young man, sporting the long red hair and beard of a typical metal band Rockstar.  He was lying on his back on a bed, seen from head to toe, fully erect and slowly stroking himself.  It lasted a long time like that, with no real progression, but Lana rarely skipped it.
Eventually, he leaned towards the camera, his blue eyes staring at the lens as he grabbed it with more scratching noises and placed it so that the screen now showed him from his knees the bottom of his beard.  He resumed stroking, slowly accelerating and Lana watched with her usual fascination, but also listened for the heavy breathing that she could now hear.  For his one, short groan when he tensed and ejaculated what seemed like liters.

He lay there still for a while, Lana staring and listening to his breathing, then the clip was over.  She erased her browsing history and turned her computer off, hid the head phones and slid back in bed, her hand immediately digging under her pajama bottoms, moving her pubic hair aside to slide along her labia.

The sound of his breathing still filled her ears as she collected the wetness from the entrance of her vagina to start circles around her clitoris, her other hand gently holding her lips to give her access.
Her imagination was haunted by his penis, that seemed so much bigger than the two fingers that she sometimes inserted in herself, by the pulsation of his orgasm that shot semen all the way to his beard.  Eventually, though it took many movements and speed changes, she was close to orgasm.  The image of his red chest hair filled with white sperm haunted her, the one drop falling from his beard, the small river that fell to his long hair by his side.  So much of the odd man liquid made her uncomfortable in a way that turned her on.  In her mind, she looked at his still pulsating cock after coming.  Was that his orgasm continuing?  Maybe his heartbeat?  Then, his eyes, looking at her.

She mimicked with her lowest voice possible his short orgasmic grunt as she came herself, letting go of her overstimulated clitoris and pulling her hood hard towards her belly many times over to enhance her convulsions.

She didn’t fall asleep immediately, but her exhaustion was now all that she could feel and eventually, it was enough to drag her to slumber.


Chet rode Lana at every opportunity, watching her anger rise and then seeing her deflate under his sharp but accurate criticism.  He could tell from her body language and the bags under her eyes that it was getting to her.

And as he made her stay after every practice to clean the boys’ locker room or pick up & carry their uniforms to the laundry, he saw her will dwindle as he moved to the next stage.

Last night’s game had been a disaster, Lana nearly cost them the game and as it was the team that managed to pull it out of the bag in the last period, as Chet benched her.

So here he was with Lana at 7am, alone on the rink.

He knew by now she must be wondering when he was going to drop her from the squad.  He’d heard mutterings already from the rest of the team and some of the parents too. But nothing to his face. Yet.

God look at her, she looks so pathetic. I don’t think she must have slept at all. Let’s see how bad she really feels.

“Lana, in all my years as Coach I’ve never seen a sorrier performance than yours last night. For a minute there I thought you had swapped teams!”, after years of practice the sarcasm came easy.

“To redeem yourself in my eyes, the eyes of the team and the school, I am giving up MY sleep, my breakfast with MY lovely wife and MY time to make you see the error of your ways. Do you understand?”
“Yes Coach.”
“Better. You are a disgrace to this school, the team and the game of hockey. You are an embarrassment to me personally.  You do not DESERVE to wear that uniform. Take it OFF”

Obviously crushed, Lana took her jersey off and dropped it on the ice.

“Your socks too.  And all your pads.  Helmet, everything.  Keep your stick and skates only.”

As silence descended, he waited. This was the first test.

One of three things could happen. She could be clever and go change in the changing room into sweats.
She could run off and maybe tell someone. He had reputation and plausibility on his side.
Or the third option.

Lana took off her kit right there on the ice.

“Stick and skates”, he said as she passed him her helmet, pads, jersey and shorts until she was in her underwear and skates.  Watching her struggle to take off her hockey socks and padded pants through one skate while standing on the other had been surprisingly entertaining.

As he took her equipment to the players’ bench and dropped it, looking back and seeing her alone and vulnerable in the middle of the rink so willing to obey made his pulse race.  And the sight.  Plain white panties, black sports bra, lots of skin.

He dropped a puck at her feet.
“Okay figure eights five clockwise and five anti until I say stop.”

He watched as she dribbled the puck and skated in fast motions from board to board at centerice and glanced at his kitbag on the penalty box, knowing that every moment was being recorded on the HD camcorder he had just bought.


“Stick and skates.”
Part of her went to hide deep inside and Lana watched herself taking off not only her uniform, but all her equipment like an unthinking automaton.  Suddenly, she was standing there under the vivid spotlights of the arena, her coach looking back at her from the bench.

Why the hell am I doing this?  Lana, you’re so pathetic!

But suddenly, the next order came and she sprung.  Everything was back to being about skating.  Obeying a coach’s hockey instructions.  Figure eights was an order that she could follow and was comfortable with, to the point of obeying it with relief.

As she sped through the cold air of the ice, the wind striking her bare legs and belly, part of her threatened to tremble and she just redoubled her effort, focused on not loosing the puck while accelerating.  She threw herself in the punishment and only semi-realized how good she felt about it.
Being punished was cathartic.  Getting what she deserved felt redeeming, like it balanced with her inept performances.  The ridiculous of that statement would have made her cringe had she voiced it in a rational manner, but she wasn’t rational anymore.  She was rage directed at herself by parts of her that she didn’t even see.

That rage was channeled in repeating her coaches “Faster!” barks for herself.

Faster, you worthless cunt.  You stupid, pathetic excuse for a hockey player.  Faster!

When she dropped the puck after pushing herself to go faster than she could control herself, she raced after it and slapped it hard in the boards, screaming like a feral beast.  The puck came back at her like a laser beam, striking her bare shin and she fell to the ice, sliding all the way to the boards.

She had just nailed her strongest shot ever.

And now, she was sitting almost butt naked on the cold ice, leaned on the board across from the penalty box, holding her leg.

Both knees had started to bleed from sticking to the ice as she had slid and her bone felt numb where the puck had struck her.  Her coach was coming slowly towards her and as the trembling sensation came back in her core, this time she couldn’t shake it off, like a wave of pressure was finally getting to her.  Her body shook uncontrollably, and her lack of control drowned her in shame.


Chet skated to Lana and helped her get up. He squatted down to inspect her knees, then the egg-sized bruise on her shin.

“Well, that was stupid. Nothing was broken so get on with it. Start again.”

This was an unexpected turn of events but it was also a golden opportunity too. He watched as this time she was more focused and in control.

Soon enough, though, his watch beeped that another twenty minutes and the school would officially open.

“Okay, that’s enough for today. Now go grab a shower and I’ll get the first aid kit”


He didn’t wait outside but stood in the locker room near the shower, his kit bag with a line of sight to the showers.

“Hey Lana, let’s have a look at that leg” he yelled, conscious of the time passing.

She emerged wrapped in only a teal towel covering her chest to mid-thigh. Dripping wet and barefoot.
Chet felt himself respond as he picked up his kitbag and placed it onto the bench opposite her as she sat.
Grabbing another towel, he sat next to the bag and lifted her bruised leg.

Resting it on his knee her foot on the outside of his hip, he gave it a gentle pat with the towel to dry it, seeing her wince.

There was already a faint brown and blue edge to the lump and a black line where the puck edge had struck.  He felt around it for any sign of a break or shipped bone before spraying a cold spray on it. Then he applied tight bandage around it.

“I don’t know what possessed you Lana but let this be a lesson to you. You can’t afford to lose your temper like that on or off the ice.  It always comes back to bite you. Now keep this on, try to get ice on it when you get home tonight and as much as you can, keep it elevated”

He took a bottle of iodine and swabbed the ice burns on the knee before applying a cotton pad and taping it to her leg.

All the while he was aware of how far the towel was riding up and the view his camera would be getting.

He even moved over to the other side of the bag, first putting down her treated leg and lifting the other one apart from the first for inspection before using the iodine and patch on her other knee. He got up and started collecting his stuff to put in the bag as she put her foot on the bench next to his bag to inspect her knee and smooth the tape.

“Better get dressed Lana nearly time for class”, he picked up the bag and as he stepped into the corridor the first bell of the day rang out.

That gave him twenty minutes to go check the footage and transfer it to a USB stick. He felt a little giddy at how easy it had been.

He was under no illusion it was risk-free but he was surprised at how submissive Lana was.


Lana was grateful for her cargo pants, that would hide even the large bandage from everyone.

She also needed to hide the pain, though, and that became the focus of her entire day.  Walking normally even though it hurt.  No limping to alleviate the pain.  Continuing her punishment that she now felt she deserved more than ever.

Tough it out, girl.

She saw it as an act of strength, but it hid a great shame.  As she came home, she had to be unusually careful not to show her legs to anyone.  What was she to say?  One doesn’t get bruises like that during a hockey practice, one is supposed to be dressed.  She didn’t shower, for fear of ruining the bandage and went to bed early.

She fell asleep fast, but had a restless night, regularly woken up by the pain to realize that she was still drifting in the same impression of a dream.  No story really, just the image of her coach looking down on while she felt that she was naked.  He was scolding her with his eyes, like she should be ashamed that she was naked.  And she was.  She was also ashamed that she had skated half naked in front of the man, and waking up to realize that that part of the dream was actually true gave her a nausea that she would try to flee in sleep, only perpetuating the circle.

The next day, she resolved that she would go speak to her coach and quit the team.  She wasn’t helping anyway, he surely would welcome the decision.  And she could no longer bear disappointing him.

Disappointing me.  I’m the one that matters; fuck you, Chet.

She felt a pang though, as she realized that that was complete bullshit.  She wanted nothing but his approval.

Maybe she should just ask him if he preferred that she quit.  See if that was what he wanted.  Today was usually team meeting day at noon school, but it had been postponed to the next day.  Surely he would be available then.


On impulse, Chet had postponed the weekly Thursday team meeting until Friday.  Partly because a third of the squad was on a day trip and wouldn’t get back until late and mostly because he wanted time to review the video.

He’d transferred over an hours’ worth of video and now wanted to have some time to enjoy it.

Careful Chet. Don’t let the little head do your thinking. Too much. As his father used to say when Chet got into trouble over a girl.

Sitting at his desk, monitor carefully turned so it couldn’t be seen by prying eyes he fast forwarded to the locker room. And there it was, the money shot. Although he’d hoped for something, this was better than he had expected.

He paused where he had lifted her first knee to treat the ice burn.  Her thigh had spread and lifted the towel, exposing her beautiful pussy that her thin, black pubic hair couldn’t hide.  The outer lips were pressed sealed, but unable to hold the clitoris hood that stuck out at the top

He felt a flush of guilt. If anyone discovered this he would be going to prison.  No earthly excuse could justify this abuse of trust and there would be no denying it was his voice and hers.

Keeping the volume low, he watched the moment where he had put iodine on her second knee as she gave a little gasp and her butt squirmed.  The hair and outer lips had parted, revealing a labyrinth of inner lips folded around each other, hinting at an entrance that drove him crazy.

It felt like an icy finger ran down his spine. All he could think about was what it would be like to slide his cock in her pussy and how she would react.  The fire in his belly burned up all fear and doubt about being caught. He just had to remain cautious.

Knock. Knock. Startled, he leapt and froze the video then composed himself.

Shit! Who was this now?  What did they see? He looked at the glass vision panel in the door and reassured himself that they couldn't have seen anything incriminating.

“Come… cough… Come in”, he reached for a swig of cold coffee.

Lana popped her head around the door.

“Hi Coach, sorry to disturb you. I know the meeting is cancelled tonight but I really need to talk to you about something”

Chet felt a strange detachment as he kept on eye on her and one eye on the illicit image of her pussy on the screen.

As usual, his reflex response was one of authority.
“The meeting is canceled, you know?”
He saw a flash in her eye followed by a sour twist in her lips “I know, Coach”
“Well, I’ve got time now, why don’t you come in and spit it out?


"yeah, hem..."

She looked uncomfortable and decided to sit herself down in the seat across from his desk.  Right next to the computer screen.

"Yeah, I've been, hem..."

Gosh, Lana, what DO you want to say?  You look like a newbie panicking with the puck!

"It's about my, hem, place in the team, sir. "

She looked down at the few papers scattered on his desk, not daring to meet his gaze.
"I know..." her head made a strange twist there, like she had to contort her neck and look all around at the ceiling or had some muscle behaving erratically.

"I... I know I've been.  Not really good recently and I.  I.  Maybe you would feel that I really don't help.  I wouldn't.  You know.  I swear.  So, yeah, I don't want to be a nuisance.  So, hem, maybe you... Maybe I...  Do you think it would be better if I just let... hem... the boys do their thing?  You'd win more, maybe."

That was so pathetic!  Even you didn't understand what you meant!

Seeing her so hesitant and unhappy surprised him.
His plan was working almost too well.
But the sight of her pussy and this vulnerable girl before him lit a greedy fire in his groin. And an idea flashed in his mind.
Careful Chet, she’s not worth your career, your marriage… oh but that is. He glanced at the pussy on the screen again.
“I didn’t take YOU for a quitter Lana.” Now she looked at him with her red-rimmed eyes he could see how much pain she was in.  Emotional and probably physical too. He felt then that she was putty in his hands.
“Look we all have bad spells. We make mistakes and everything goes south. Sometimes we feel like giving up because the alternative is too hard.  Quitting is the easy way out. Staying. Doing the extra time. Practising. Training longer than anyone. Pushing yourself. Getting the fuck up when you fall, that’s the real alternative.”

He saw a light in her eyes as her lips compressed.
Damn all half this stuff is from some movie but look at her.

“So Lana are YOU going to QUIT or do whatever it takes to WIN?”
“No, Coach I don’t want to quit!” she lifts her head to look him in the eye at last.
“GOOD. Because I have no time for quitters! I DO have time for extra practice. Starting tonight. Are you up for it Lana?”
“Yes, Coach”
“Good. Now tell me how are your legs? And no bullshit, I want the truth!”

He wants me to keep playing.  That's... wow.

"It's fine, sir."
Again, she avoided his eyes, but no longer in such a drastic way.
"Well, I might have limped a bit when no-one was watching.  I think some muscle might have panicked when their hard neighbour got hit."
She almost chuckled, but it felt a little forced.

"Ok, 5 pm tonight be at the pool and we'll do some strength and endurance work and see how those legs are healing. Now get out of here and go study like you are supposed to be!"
He watched her face light up and she finally smiled as she got up.
"Thanks, Coach"
She was just about out of the door when he said "Lana, don't forget to bring your stick and towel"
"I won't Coach"
Pleased with himself, Chet spent the rest of the day planning his next move.

Though by no means gleeful, Lana felt a bit lighter.  She was in the most complex of the two paths she had envisioned, though.  Being off the team would have let her completely off the hook.
Wait, the pool?  Darnit, do I need my bathing suit?

In one second, nervous Lana was back.  She reached her decision during Math class.  No way was she going to disappoint again for such a small thing.  Home wasn't an option either, it was too far.  And her mother would ask too many questions when she ran to get her dirty bathing suit from the laundry.  She ran out as soon as the bell rang.  Hopping on her bike to and from the mall, she came back to school and ran in, cursing her leg that clearly didn't like the treatment.
When she opened the door to the pool area, she had all that she needed, but she saw on the giant clock that she was 7 minutes late.  And if she did need her bathing suit, she wasn't in it.

October 02, 2017, 02:47:16 PM
Reply #1

Offline SportyVictim

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Chapter 2 is done and will be edited over the next few days.  Chapter 3 will be written soon and more is to be expected.

October 03, 2017, 09:04:58 PM
Reply #2

Offline vile8r

Very engaging story Sporty and Badman! The action is building nicely.

October 07, 2017, 10:28:23 AM
Reply #3

Offline SportyVictim

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Chapter 2

PEEEP! The whistle echoed off the swimming pool hall walls. "You're LATE. Lana." He shouted from across the pool.
Lana was limping.
"This is not a good start, now is it? I want you in your costume NOW"
She headed for the locker rooms with her stuff.
PEEEEP!  "WHERE do you think you are going?"

The whistle startled her so much she almost fell in the water.  The rest was a blur of a knot in her stomach upon hearing his angry voice and of total confusion.
Did he not just ask me to get in my costume?

“Hem, I'm.. I'm sorry, I...  I don't understand.”

“You have one minute to be in your bathing suit and no time to tour the locker rooms.  Come on!  PEEEEP!”
From over on the other side of the pool, she felt his gaze on him.  How could she do this?
Looking nervously around her, she quickly stripped to her underwear, then fumbled in her bag for her towel, that she clumsily tied under her armpits to mask her impending nudity before looking around for her bathing suit, a plain black one-piece.

Chet watched her antics with some amusement as she struggled to keep her modesty, not helped by the fact that she was favouring one leg.
Better yet, it appeared that she had the wrong size and type of costume. Not only did it look uncomfortably small, but the material was very thin and when stretched as it now was, it acted like a second skin showing off every bump, nook and cranny.
PEEP! "Come on Lana you've already wasted 15 minutes of my time"

Feeling awfully ill at ease, Lana dumped her things in a pile and stood, resisting the urge to stretch the crotch of her bathing suit. Standing uncomfortably there, she hesitated a moment and when her coach didn’t move, she figured he expected her to go to him and walked, wincing just once before collecting herself and moving to him, keeping her limp at a minimum.
Hopefully, soon, she would be weightless and hidden underwater.
"I'm sorry, sir.  Thank you for your time, sir."

Oh, this is going to be fun.

“Ok get in the water and I want you to walk across the pool and back.”
He watched, the camera recording from the bag he held, as she lowered herself down a ladder in the corner.  As she waded across the width of the pool and back, water rising up to her butt.  Within a few strides, the costume was riding up her butt and the shoulder straps and crotch were biting with every step.
"Ok get out and sit here" he pointed to a bench.
Setting the bag down in front of her, he squatted down and lifted her foot onto his shoulder to peel away the now wet bandage. The lump on her shin had gone down leaving a large black and blue and brown bruise.

He prodded and poked around it all the while admiring the length and curve of her inner thigh.
"Doesn't look so bad now, but I think you'll need a bit of physio for the next week otherwise your hamstrings will tighten and you'll be slower again.”
"Now the other one."
He inspected the fading scab on her knee gently.
"You won't have a scar at least.”
"Ok stand up and let's see how tight you are." He turned her to face the bench. "Step up.  Now bend forward and hold your knees.”
He waited until she was folded over before stroking her legs from top to bottom with both hands, "Hmmm a lot of tension here. We need to get you warmed up proper"
He savoured the view of her exposed buttocks as the swimsuit slid between her butt cheeks.
"Ok step down and get in the water. This time I want you to hold your hockey stick over your head and do four widths.”
Walking with difficulty in the pool, stick raised high, Lana felt a creeping discomfort at her coach’s attitude.  Was he being inappropriate?  That pose on the bench had felt so weird and exposed…
Of course it did, you twit, you bought the wrong sized suit.

Still, every once in a while now, she looked over at her, wondering if he was being a pervert or if she was just imagining things.

She didn’t get why he wanted her to climb up the ladder with the stick up in the air.  She fell four times backward before she managed to stay upright all the way to the poolside.  Now he was just playing with her.
Was that the whole point?  Was he exacting vengeance and just straight up trying to humiliate her?
In the end, she found herself out of the pool with her back to him, arms up in the air, feeling very exposed in this wide open space that stretched in front of her, brought back to that strange feeling a few days before when she exited the shower after…
After my last good game?
…My last OK game?

She didn’t dare move until told to, but she desperately needed to drop one hand to redo the crotch of her suit before he walked around in front of her.  She waited, hands in the air, feeling exposed no matter if Coach Chet was a pervert or not.


"Ok Lana, so your balance isn't too badly affected but I need to get you warmed up a bit..."

"Put the stick on the bench and give me 20-star jumps. Each time I want you to turn 180 degrees so I can assess your form."

"3...2...1  PEEP"

I can't believe she is wearing that! Is she deliberately trying to tease me? Why was she late anyway? Never mind, Chet, let's see what you've got Lana

As she turned her back to reveal pert white buttocks he unconsciously adjusted his crotch to free his boner snagged in his boxers.  After the 5th or 6th turn she started to struggle with her bad leg. He didn’t choose to stop her but rathe see how far she would go.

Perfect, now for some physio.


Relieved to be allowed to drop one hand from the stick before suffering the humiliation of her coach seeing how out of place the front of her swimsuit was, Lana quickly dug her thumb between her butt cheek and the fabric to stretch it in what she hoped was a casual enough gesture, as she turned and moved to the bench near the wall, where Chet had dropped his own equipment as well. 

The swimsuit was too tight for this to really have helped, though, so after dropping her stick, she had to resort to the less subtle approach of using both hands to replace the bottom of her suit from the front while dropping her knees wide apart to give herself space.  She did so facing the bench, keeping her coach on her right and making sure not to give him an indecent angle.

She rushed the manoeuvre, though and, prioritizing speed and the end result, she pulled several pubic hairs and winced.  She didn't dare to look at him, but she could feel her coach's gaze upon her and all she could think was to wonder how likely it was that he would attribute this to the pain in her leg.

Slowly walking to a spot half way to the pool, Lana turned to face her coach and started the exercise.

Immediately, the opening and closing of her legs started to generate an unbearable friction at the edges of her swimsuit.  By the 5th or 6th repetition, one side was slipping towards her cleft, her right labia lip threatening to pop out of the swimsuit.  She tried favoring her left leg to compensate, as if spreading wider on one side was going to reverse the tendency, but after only two more repetitions, she crumbled.  The exterior band had finally dug inside her vulva, tearing pubic hair off and folding and twisting her inner lips.  The pain was sharp, but as she knelt to replace the swimsuit, all she could think of was that it had happened right as she faced him.

She stood back up, mumbling apologies.  This time, she didn't try to be subtle and decided to act professionally, replacing her bathing suit with care like she would any other piece of equipment, then resumed the exercise.
"How many did I do?"
"Five!  Fifteen more, Lana!"
And the process continued, Lana stopping regularly to replace the crotch on her suit, trying to keep her dignity, looking at him every time she turned to face him, feeling less and less at ease at the fact that him studying her form meant looking right at her legs.

Is he looking at me in that way?
I so hope I'm not teasing him...  My god, this is so embarrassing!
Only five more.  As soon as I'm done, I'll ask if I can change back in regular clothing.  We're done with the stupid pool, right?


Watching her fight the crotch of her costume, seeing flashes of forbidden flesh sent shockwaves through Chet’s crotch. He imagined how her silky, soft skin would feel to his touch. There was something about having her so willing to try to obey him and being alone too…  He had not felt a thrill like this is in months maybe even a year or more.

“Ok I’ve seen enough, come on follow me”

He headed for the therapy rooms alongside the pool. The nearest one was a plain white tiled room with no windows and a padded massage table with a small desk near its foot where he placed his bag again.

He smacked the plastic cushioning “Get up here, I want to look that sore leg. Lie back that’s it” He pressed her shoulder back until she was staring at the ceiling, grabbed her ankle and started moving her leg this way and that.

“Relax, let’s see if I can find the problem here”

Oh god, she is so soft. Smooth like silk. Oh my god these legs. Around my hips.

His manipulations got larger, tucking the knee to her chest, swinging the knee out flat, twisting the foot.  His hands got closer to her crotch as he wedged her leg on his shoulder, freeing his other hand to grip the very top of her inner thigh

A few more sessions like this and she’ll be ready.

Lana and Chet

Lana was clearly uncomfortable.  "Sir, I think I'd like to go change now"

Having her leg pressed to her chest and her crotch almost exposed an inch from his finger, Chet looked her in the eye. "Really? You’re gonna wimp out on me now?"
"it's..." She hesitated, then placed her hand on the side opposite him and her bent leg between her legs, trying to replace her suit and then hiding her crotch by leaving the hand flat to cover it, her thumb defensively positioned, touching his finger at the top of her thigh.

He simply lowered her leg and picked up the other knee, pushing it out wide and down towards her shoulder so her ass would lift and the cloth would slide up her crack and to one side of her labia again. This time, he held her like that pinned with his strong hands.

God, her ass is so sweet!

Lana let a small whine out that she repressed immediately.

My god, this is so embarrassing! What am I supposed to do?

The fingers on her hand between her leg extended like she was pushing or preparing to push something invisible attacking her there. Her other hand grabed her wrist and her shoulders raised a bit, like she was hugging myself.

Chet kept on sliding his hands up and down her thigh, closer and closer to her crotch and buttock, enjoying the view of the edge of her pussy and anus.  He brushed her tit with her knee and saw and felt the tension in her leg.

Her eyes looked nervously around at the ceiling. Her arm crushed under her bent knee hurt and she had to switch her defensive hand, now grabbing her entire crotch area to mask it.

Tough it out, Lana. Breathe.

Chet let her go then, laying her out flat on her back. Immediately, though, he took both knees together to tuck them up. "Put your arms behind your knees and hug them Lana"

He then pressed her feet towards the floor over her head immediately sending the cloth deeper between her cheeks. Slowly he started to spread her feet wider.

As her legs started to part atop her, Lana saw for the first time just how naked her sex was and started to panic.

“Wait! Wait! I need to replace my bathing suit.  So sorry…  Wait!!”

Ignoring her pleas, Chet continued to manipulate her body. Once again laying her flat, he went to his bag, had a satisfied smile at the sight of the perfectly placed camera, and pulled out a liniment bottle. Pouring some into his hands he started to rub it up and down her leg, working it deep into the muscles.

Lana repositioned her bathing suit, using both hands to stretch it away from her and spread it as much as possible over her shame. Her hands then stayed close, nervous.

That silence... I'm exasperating him again...

The liniment started to smart as Chet got closer and closer to her crotch. "Roll over" he ordered as he refreshed the liniment on his hands. Lana obeyed promptly, grateful for the opportunity to hide by turning on her belly, arms straying crossed under her.

Breathe. You'll be able to play, that's all that matters.

Again, he started kneading her soft flesh with his strong hands.

So supple and smooth…

For one second, looking down the hole at the top of the massage table, Lana was alone with her thoughts.

He's not perving out, you self centered bitch, he's helping you. You're the obscene one.

God I'm so obscene I just want to die.

This time, unable to see her face, Chet decided to get even bolder and slid his hands between and to the bottom of her buttock. He was aware that he was taking far too long and that she must be suspicious but he was getting reckless and distracted. Before long, without it being a conscious decision, he was actually rubbing her crotch lightly as he applied the liniment between her thighs.

She hasn’t even flinched.

Lana suddenly realized how easily accessible her genitals were in this position.  That feeling of relief had been silly and stupid. As if I thought that my cunt was only in the front of me. Where would I have gotten that ridiculous impression?

Her buttocks clinched when her lips felt the touch of his hands.

“Be careful”
“you’re close to… hem… you know…”

Chet ignored her comment as he continued to rub between her legs.  Her pelvis dug in the mattress and her buttocks clinched harder without letting go.

"Do we need much more of this?"

He stopped with his hand firmly on her crotch.  “You want me to stop?”  He stroked her harder.

Lana jolted forward and turned on her side, then sat up slowly towards the head of the table, not looking at him. She hugged herself.

"Y…Yes. I think I should go home now.  My... My parents will worry."

She unfolded her legs slowly from under her to leave them dangling from the table. The bathing suit was tearing in her, but she didn’t touch herself and left it as it was.

"Lana, go take a shower"

Chet rubbed his hands on a towel and waited.

Lana skipped to her toes and rushed towards the pool area, brushing against her coach as she squeezed through.  He followed with his bag, now determined to keep pressuring her.  Passing the door, she adjusted her bathing suit as she walked towards the pile of things that she had left on the floor. There was anger in the motion and a snap when she let go of the stupid bathing suit in the girls’ changing room. Then, she headed for the showers.

Having picked up the camera out of his bag and flipped out the viewscreen, Chet followed Lana.  He waited until he heard running water, then walked in and started filming.  She was under the water, her back turned to him.


He watched her face as she turned to him and made sure that the camera was registering her entire nudity.

Lana jumped at his tone and turned towards the sound.  She stayed a while just standing there, dumbfounded, slowly crossing her arms around her breasts. A quick glance at the camera, but mostly just looking at her coach, who was holding that camera like it was normal. She felt like all reality has broken apart.

Stupid. I'm so stupid. I'm... he's... I'm so stupid!

"Come here Lana let me have a look at you"

He beckoned with one hand as he watched her in the flip-out screen, not actually looking at her directly.

Oh, this is better. Why didn't I think of it before? Blackmail!

The shower water stopped and the silence crushed her suddenly. Slowly bending her knees, Lana dropped to the floor, hugging herself.

What am I doing?  What am I to do?

Holding her knees snug against her breasts, back against the wall, Lana had a flash of being in a very similar position on her back on the table. Her coach staring at her crotch.  Her head snapped and looked at, him, at the camera, then away.

"Lana, stand up and let me see you. Or I'll walk out of here and put it online in seconds. Your choice.”


Lana remained huddled against herself on the tiles, absently looking at the wall on the opposite side of the shower room.  In her peripheral vision she felt the camera looming as Chet slowly walked to her.

When she finally spoke, her tone was unusually low, slow and even. It also conveyed no emotion.

"All you have is proof that Coach Chet is a pervert who walks in the women's showers with a camera. That and half hidden boobs. I didn't do anything shameful.
I didn't do anything shameful.  You have nothing. "

Though her wits should have been engaged in the crucial negotiation that she had to maneuver through, all her mind did was bring her back to looking and feeling silly and exposed doing star jumps poolside. Failing to preserve her dignity on the massage table. His thick fingers rubbing on her sex. The band on her damned swimsuit squeezing her inner lips. His invading fingers. Doing the star jumps. That was stupid in the first place. All because she had lost it and snapped a puck at herself. Skating half naked. His fingers, her sex.

A succession of images like a screen saver on the surface of her mind, the rest of her numb and latent.


Walking over to her, Chet reached out and grabbed her hair, lifting her up onto her tip toes and tilting her head back.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of, little girl."

He jerked her head towards the wall and stopped without making contact "One slip and it's ‘Such a tragedy, such a promising girl to slip in a shower and die like that is too cruel. What a waste.’"

He let her drop to the floor while keeping hold of her hair  Holding the camera to point at her face he ordered her "Lower my shorts, Lana"

"That’s it. Now my boxers. Good girl, you can do it." He gloated as he felt her hands tremble. Finally, his rigid cock was free.

This is too easy, silly bitch. At this rate, she'll be begging for it by the time we get to the hotel. 

"Now I want you to hold my cock, Lana, and stroke it slowly..No..No. like this" He grabbed her hand and slid it up and down the length of his shaft to demonstrate.

"Now you" All the while the camera never left her face.


Lana’s body didn’t react as Chet grabbed her by the hair.  The pain was great and did make her grimace, but her conscious body didn’t even jerk in surprise.  She didn’t understand what was happening.  Didn’t accept that it was happening.  Her coach was aggressively barking words, but they made no sense to her.

Something woke up in her.  She was on the floor, confused.  She had to do something now. He was asking her to lower his shorts.  He wanted a blowjob?  Could it be that?  How likely was it?
A strong man's grip tightened on her hair, pulling her away from the distance where she was hiding and bringing the shorts and visible bulge very much into her reality, as her hands moved to obey.  She didn't even wonder if disobeying was an option.

The cock popped out, hard and threatening, closer than she’s ever seen any.  Her hands began to tremble as the stress of the last minute finally materialized.  As her awareness of exactly what was going on spread throughout her body, knotting her innards. He was demanding a specific stroking technique.

Really?  That’s not how the other guy did it…

Trying to mimic Chet’s movements on his cock, she started stroking.  Her eyes could barely focus on the thing, so close it was to her face. 

After a short while, her feet sore, she adjusted her position from a crouch to a kneel, careful not to lower the height of her head under his still firm grip, where her scalp was numb and dreading more pain.

Without really being aware of it, she stopped stroking and grabbed him a little tighter while she was focused on shifting her posture.  It reacted by throbbing and becoming harder and bigger still, which jerked her attention back to it. She had her coach’s cock in her hand.

Finally kneeling, she resumed the stroking and almost immediately put his dick in her mouth, her lips moving in and out on his head as her hand did the same on the shaft.

What am I doing?  Do I really need to do this?  How did I get to sucking this man’s dick?

A distinctive taste in her mouth and smell brought her out of her intellectual escape again and into the vivid reality of being forced by her coach to suck his very hard and almost equally gross dick.

She felt betrayed, abused and defeated before she had even seen an attack coming. And for the first time, she was sharply aware that her coach was the one imposing this humiliation upon her.

Still, she keeps on sucking and stroking.

What were the alternatives?  Were there any? Her numb brain couldn’t see past her coach's belly everywhere in her field of view, his grip on her hair, his taste and girth in her mouth and hand.


"Ooooh yes", he groaned as his cock felt her tentative hand take a grip. His body poured all of his attention and energy into his cock as it swelled.

God. Mary hasn't even touched my cock like that in months.

An odd groan escaped his lips as he tightened his grip in her hair. Then her hand stopped and griped him firmer and a second later, he could feel her hot breath on his skin.  He went nearly mad.  His erection surged with blood as his mind fell away from any thoughts of consequences or harm. In this moment there was only hot burning lust.

When her lips slid over his engorged cock and the warm wetness inside engulfed its head, he felt like electricity erupting from his hips.

FUCK! Hold on, Chet...  Let her do this. The little slut wants your dick!

Little parts of him knew this was so wrong. That she would be corrupted and damaged by this. Yet other parts flashed to an image of her, under him, his cock drilling her as she thrashed in pain or passion.  Most of all now he focused on his desire to press his dick deep into her mouth and then throat, to feel her gulp and gasp as hot cum filled her mouth.

"Slowly", he admonished himself as his hand pulled her towards him, burying his hot throbbing shaft in her mouth and then farther back to her throat.

He felt her panic and start to gulp and choke and held for a count of five before letting her pull back. It took him back to his college frat years and the times he'd been given a pledges passed out drunk girl to fuck.  Even those were older than Lana was, he realized.

Her gasps and coughs stopped as soon as he pulled her in again.  Ignoring her tears, groans and muffled pleading, he waited for her throat to spasm. The sensation was mind-blowing.  At that point, he couldn't care less if he got caught by the whole school. His cock was inside Lana Smith.

Pulling back a little and glancing down, he saw that the camera was still somehow aimed at her face and locked eyes with her.  There was no pity in him, only rampant animal lust. Age, status, the law, consequences, all fell away as man took woman.  Her head impaled on his shaft.

Fuck!!!! This bitch'll do anything for cock. My cock.

Cruelly, he now pushed even harder, deeper than ever before as he held her there. His hips twitched as her struggle intensified.


The school was about to close.  He didn’t react to the first bell. For him, ten minutes to clean up was plenty of time.

Though not surprised that he pulled her head down his shaft, Lana was taken aback by how invasive it felt.  As he held her fast with his cock deep in her mouth, though, the most psychologically discomforting thing that she felt was his belly right up in her face, forcing her eyes closed.  A proximity that was already uncomfortable when he had manipulated her on the massage table, multiplied tenfold.
I don’t get it.  I was all over his stupid dickhead, isn’t that the sensitive part?  Is he just mimicking porn movies?  He’s choosing to be mean over getting off?

When the bell rang, she pulled off and looked around, then at him, panicked.  He just looked mean and determined and as he pulled on her jaw to open it and shove his manhood back in her mouth, she didn’t dare protest.
But internally, she was in fear.  What if the janitor came by here?  He was supposed to, at this time, no?  Was the Coach not worried?  Looking up at him with the tip of his penis in her mouth, all she saw was a dark determination like she had never seen in anyone.  Something scary and deep.
Out of fear – of what exactly, she didn’t know – she closed her eyes, slid down the shaft and pressed her nose in his belly, waiting for as long as she could, until having to withdraw. She did it again, then again as her face got more and more red and tears started flowing freely from her eyes.
On the third time she gagged and almost puked.  She pushed him away and struggled for breath as a ton of mucus hung on his cock and dripped from his balls into his shorts.  He hadn’t let go of her hair and her scalp was burning with pain.


"Messy bitch, swallow it or I'll lock you in the equipment cupboard for the rest of the day"

He pulled her head toward his belly and back onto his shaft and then moved closer to her, his legs wide forcing her to lean back against the wall.  Something hard banged the side of her head. The camera, as he used both hands now to hold her crushed to him.  Not content with that, he started to rock his hips back and forth, extending himself even deeper than before in her throat.

Part of him was aware how dangerous this was, but his ardour had taken over. His blood on fire only his own pleasure mattered now. Stripped of his mask like this, he felt free. He wanted Lana and he took her, fucking her throat harder and faster.

Fuck the rules. Fuck YOU, Lana Smith. FUUUUUUUCK!

His cock exploded deep in her, filling her throat as it spasmed, his hips pressing his belly hard into her face.  For endless seconds, he twitched as he emptied his load of cum into her without regard for anything else.

Then she was dropped like a used rag onto the floor as he staggered back a step, cock dripping cum and saliva.  He grabbed her towel and wiped himself, tossed the used cloth at her feet and pulled up his boxers and tracksuit bottoms.

"Damn you, Lana, look at this mess! Get it cleaned up." 

Once final time, he brought the camera to bear on her, naked, gagging and gasping. Prone on the floor. He seemed drunk on his lust as he turned away. 

And then stalked, uncaring out of the room. 


The second bell, five minutes before every student was supposed to be out.


Back in the WC near his office, Chet washed his hands and inspected his face in the mirror.  The monster satisfied, for now, his brow furrowed. The camera sat beside him on the worktop, a promise that was already turning him on.
No time to review it yet though. Wiping a hand down his face, he reached a decision. Having crossed the line, there was no going back.

Hands on Chet’s hips, Lana tried to push him back, but to no avail; his strength and firm grip overpowering her own movements, closer to subconscious protective gestures than efficient efforts.

With his thrusts from deep to deeper in her throat, she didn’t feel anything beyond the fear of suffocating to death as the seconds passed and seemed like minutes of never really breathing, of only panicking, his belly cutting her from the world, going from covering her nostrils to crushing her soft nose.
Then, there was a sudden stillness that she didn’t understand.  And as he groaned, she became fully aware of what was happening.  The low, loud groan, echoed in her mind the entire time.
She heard herself gag, the sound bringing her to memories of grasping for air in the middle of throwing up.  Several times, she swallowed against her will, her body trying to prevent most of his sperm to go to her lungs.  Only half succeeding.
When he pulled out, she crumbled and coughed, semen filling her nasal cavity and oozing from her nose, burning her.
Her coach spoke, his usual tone, full of reproach, then threw a towel to her.  Her teal towel.
Noises from not too far. 

It’s not him.  He is gone.

Lana panicked and wiped her face with the towel.  Then, stuck with only the one towel, used it to wipe the rest of her body except her sex, amazed at herself for even having had the presence to avoid doing that.
Lana knew about rape.  Part of her should have known that it was obvious she should have stayed there, down in the shower, ready to be found.  He would have taken all the blame.  But that part, if real, stayed silent, overshadowed by her unbearable shame.  Her need to flee this scene, everything.
Her knees were bleeding again.  She hadn’t even noticed the pain.  Back in the dressing room, she put her panties on her wet crotch, finished getting dressed and threw her towel and bathing suit in the bathroom garbage can, walking out, forgetting her hockey stick in the pool area.
She left running, passing the few people also on their way out without looking at them.  No-one must see her like this.
Walking home, she was attacked by the strong smell of Chet’s sperm in her nostrils.  She would have stopped somewhere to buy gum, but she didn’t even dare show herself to a cashier.  She must reek of sperm from yards away.
She would come home and have a shower.  Brush her teeth.  Drink.  Beer, there is beer.  No, whisky.  Her father keeps a stash.  She could probably steal some from the parents’ room while they were downstairs.  Drink, then brush teeth.   Then shower.  Then stop existing.
She couldn’t eat that night.  Going straight to bed, she dropped, drained.

December 03, 2017, 11:45:29 AM
Reply #4

Offline Hades

Great story SportyVictim and Badman.  Great action, great build-up and I just love the alternating point of views.  Hope you keep writing.