Chapter 5

Debbie cheered her young heart out for the team. She leaped and did aerial splits and screamed encouragements until she was hoarse. And still the team was losing.

She had come onto the field feeling self-conscious with the skimpy costume on. As she cheered as the game wore on, she had forgotten all about the tiny g-string moving sensuously along her snatch, all about the thin vest rubbing against her nipples and hardening them. All that mattered was cheering the team on to a victory.

"Go, team go!" she cried.

She landed, did a split and then rolled up to wave her fluffy pom-poms in the air.

"Good, good," said Bradford. "You're doing a fine job. But we need more out of you," he said, coming up behind her. She was proud of herself. She didn't flinch away when he put his hands around her waist. After all, they were in the middle of a televised game. The entire scene might be broadcast coast to coast. She didn't want to do anything that might lose her the spotlight.

Turning around and hitting the general manager of the team wasn't the kind of thing she wanted going out on nationwide television.

"More?" she asked numbly. "I'm doing the best I can. All of us are."

"Yeah, and you're here on the sidelines. We need to really inspire those men out there. They're getting their heads bashed in. The other team's stronger and bigger. They need an edge. They need something to win for."

"I'll do my best," Debbie said. Her voice was almost gone now. She swallowed hard and looked at Bradford. The man grinned an evil grin as he turned to walk away.

"I know you will. We're going to make this field goal. Wait and see." She watched as the team pushed down into field goal territory. It would be a forty yard attempt. Not impossible, but their field goal kicker's longest had been only thirty-three yards. It would take a hell of a pep talk to get him enthused and ready to break a personal record.

Debbie saw Bradford talking to the man. They pointed in her direction. She had no idea what they were saying. She guessed that Bradford was hyping the guy up and that she was supposed to give him a private little cheer of encouragement. She smiled a winning smile and danced around a bit before launching herself into the air, legs spread far apart. She thought she would pull herself apart all the way to the chin, but she didn't. The landing hurt her aches, but it seemed to be well received by the kicker.

He gave her a thumb's up sign and raced onto the field. She watched in hushed silence as the snap came, the kicker turned and glanced in her direction for a split second, then stepped forward, his leg swinging hard. The football missed the outstretched finger of a blocker by inches and soared through the uprights, forty yards away.

The team had taken a one point lead.

She joined all the others in a wild, ear-splitting scream of encouragement. Debbie brushed a strand of damp blonde hair from her eyes and adjusted the tiny vest. She was acutely aware that the firm bulges of her tits threatened to spill out of the jacket at any instant. But whoever had designed it had made sure such a thing was only threatened; it never happened--quite.

Rubbing damp hands on her naked thighs, she self-consciously adjusted the g-string. Getting used to being more naked than dressed in public view was something that would take a while to be comfortable with.

"Hey, Debbie, come over here!" shouted Bradford, standing beside the man who had just made the field goal. Debbie thought Bradford wanted her to personally congratulate the man. She was willing. She didn't know much about the game of football, but she had found herself getting surprisingly worked up over whether or not the team won.

She trotted over, and the kicker eyed the jiggle and bounce of her jugs with obvious approval. She felt a little embarrassed at the way he leered, but that was his right. She knew she was an attractive chick. Otherwise, she wouldn't have gotten the job in the first place.

"Hi," she said brightly. "That was a great kick. You put us ahead."

"I had a hell of a lot of incentive," the man said.

"Oh?"

She felt a little uneasy at that. Both the kicker and Bradford were staring at her in a way she couldn't quite put into words. They obviously expected more from her. But how much more?

"Yeah, you know," said the player. "Like Mr. Bradford here said."

He obviously expected a lot more. And the girl was beginning to get the glimmerings of what that "incentive" promised by Bradford had been.

"And exactly what was it Mr. Bradford said?" she demanded. "Did he promise you something he couldn't deliver?"

"No, I didn't," Bradford said hastily. "And you just go along with him. If you don't, you can just walk right on out of the stadium. You're no virgin. And he deserves it."

"It, Mr. Bradford? Exactly what is this 'it' you're talking about?" She threw down her pom-poms and stood, her hands on her flaring hips. With her legs spread just a little, she was perfectly silhouetted against the bright fights of the stadium.

The player licked his lips and began fumbling at the front of his pants.

The girl stood as if she were rooted to the spot. She couldn't believe that he actually expected her to fuck in plain view of everyone in the stadium. Yet, from the way he fumbled around getting his cup out of the way so that his prick would swing free told her the entire story.

He did expect her to fuck. Then! There!

What horrified Debbie most was the knowledge that Bradford had promised her to this man if he did well. He kicked the field goal and she was going to be his. It was that simple.

She was no longer a woman, a living, breathing woman. She had turned into a piece of property to be used as Bradford decided. He could award her to any of the team members whenever he wanted. She had become no more than chattel property--a slave. But she wasn't going to protest. She was too stricken to even speak.

"See, Debbie, that guy is hung. He'll give you one hell of a fine fuck. And I know what that tight little pussy of yours is like," Bradford said, more for the player's benefit than anything else. He had never fucked her cunt. He had only raped her up the ass.

"Get her over here, Mr. Bradford, unless you want me to ball her in plain view of that goddamn camera crew."

The player sat on the end of the bench. He was surrounded by a half dozen other players, all intent on watching the progress of the game. Debbie stood rigid and frightened, her eyes fastened firmly to the man's cock. It jutted up and out of his padded pants, red and ugly and impossibly long. She licked her lips and shook her head, a cascade of bright blonde hair circling her shoulders. She hoped this would clear her head. This had to be a dream, a nightmare!

"Dammit, get over there. Sit on his lap and let him fuck you. He did good and now he should be rewarded. You're supposed to get the team worked up to the point where they win. So give him what's his!"

Bradford's voice pushed the girl over the edge. It shocked her back into awareness. She started to back off. She shook her head and blurted out, "God, no! Not this! Not in public! There are fifty thousand people watching! This is sick!"

Bradford slapped her. She felt the sharp sting of his fingers against her cheek. Tears flowed from the corners of her eyes. Concentrating on the pain helped her to write off the numbness that fell over her like a soft, cottony blanket.

"No!"

He slapped her again. And this time, he moved up behind her to prevent her from turning and running toward the locker room. All the while the man moved into position behind her, Debbie found herself unable to look away from the jutting hard-on sprouting from the player's crotch... His bell-shaped glans throbbed with virile lust. The entire cock pulsed with excited blood, blood pumping harder and harder into his already steely erection.

Under ordinary circumstances, Debbie might have been tempted- -maybe. But not like this. Not in public and definitely not at the order of the general manager. He didn't own her. He had raped her anally and she had allowed that because of the possible exposure she might get. Modeling jobs. Television series. Even starring in movies. All those could be hers and she knew it. But to put up with Bradford--and this humiliation! It wasn't worth all the fame and fortune in the world!

But she had hesitated too long. He held her firmly in place, she could no longer run. His fingers ran under the thin string of her g-string, tugging at it, pulling it down. She felt the cool air gusting across the playing field seek out the humid crease between her legs. She hadn't realized when she was getting hot and horny just thinking about fucking in public.

"No, I refuse," she said, straining in the circle of the man's arms. The harder she fought, the more she realized she couldn't escape. These men would be able to do anything they wanted to her. She was helpless!