Story: The Etrebor Open, Part 1

Author’s Note: This story is a result of a long-term Premium Member request, and is intended to be a short serial of perhaps three parts.  I’m not a tennis person, so apologies for any glaring problems with the tennis references.

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 Alyona was a tennis prodigy.  At the age of 19 she was one of the most successful female tennis players on the planet, and her combination of talent and raw beauty made her one of the most popular ones, too.  She had her eye on a Grand Slam victory for next year.

But her hopes seemed completely dashed when the major tournaments changed their qualifying rules. 

Her manager broke the news.

“In order to qualify for any of the Grand Slam events,” he told her, “you now need to have competed, at some point in your career, in a tournament held in each of the major sponsor countries.”

“So we play in those countries this year,” said Alyona.  “What’s the issue?”

“Well, you’ve played in most of them already,” said her manager.  “But this year Etrebor is major sponsor of all four Grand Slams.  If you want to qualify, you have to play in the Etrebor Open.”

“I don’t even know where Etrebor is,” said Alyona.  “But it doesn’t matter.  I’ll play it.”

“You can’t, Alyona,” said her manager.  “Etrebor is a profoundly misogynistic country.  Rape is legal there, for heaven’s sake.  And even if you were willing to take that risk… you’re a lesbian.  You’re well known for being gay.  And lesbians are prohibited by law from entering Etrebor.  The Etreborians believe that the purpose of women is to fuck men, and a woman who doesn’t fuck men has no purpose.”

“So does that mean that there’s simply no women’s Grand Slam next year?” asked Alyona.  “Are no women going to qualify?”

“No,” her manager admitted.  “All the straight women are going to take their chances in Etrebor and play.  But… you can’t…”

Alyona’s greatest rival was heterosexual – a blonde British bitch called Catherine.  And Alyona was certain that the smug cunt would sweep every tournament of the year if her lesbian competitors were excluded.  The mere thought of it enraged her.

“You’re my manager,” she said.  “Find a way.  Get me into the tournament.  Get me qualified.”

“Alyona,” her manager protested, “I can’t….”

So Alyona fired him – and hired a manager who said he could get her in.

His name was Scott Harbridge, and he was rakishly handsome.  He had a very mixed reputation.  Ever female tennis player he’d worked with had found their career rocketed to new heights and new successes – but it was also not-so-secret knowledge that most of those women had claimed he had sexually harassed or even raped them.

“Are you serious about this?” he asked her, before signing the management contract.  “You really want to play in Etrebor, and you’ll do what it takes to make it happen?”

“I am,” said Alyona.  “Being the best takes sacrifices.  I understand that.”

“I want to be clear that you’re going to need to convince Etrebor that you’re heterosexual – or at least bisexual – now,” he said.  “And that’s going to require a fairly intimate amount of proof.  In addition, given your history of public lesbianism, you’re going to need to show that you’re serious about submitting to the supremacy of men now.  I don’t want you starting this, and then backing out.”

“No,” she said, although she was nervous.  “I’m in it all the way.”

And so she signed the management contract, and her training began.

And despite everything she had said, she tried to back out almost immediately, when he revealed the first stage of his plan.

“Breast implants,” he told her.  “We’re giving you big fake porn doll tits.  Nothing says that you want to sexually please men like a big rack.”

“No!” she said.  “I’ll look ridiculous.  I’ll look like a slut.  And it will make it hard to play tennis!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.  “Plenty of buxom women do fine in professional competition.  Now be a good girl and get in the car, and we’ll take you to a little private clinic I know for surgery.”

“I won’t!” she said.  “This isn’t what I asked for.”

“It’s exactly what you agreed to,” said Scott.  “And you also agreed to allow me to use force, if necessary, to supplement your training.”

He snapped his fingers, and three burly men stepped forward.  Two of them grabbed Alyona’s arms, and a third one held a chloroformed rag over her mouth.  She felt her vision growing dim, and then she knew nothing more.

When she woke up, the surgery was over.  To her horror, she had big round J-cup fuckbags on her chest.  In addition, she was naked, and strapped to a hospital bed, with no sheets.  Her legs were spread apart, and her pussy felt funny.

Scott was sitting by the bed.

“Wakey, wakey, princess,” he said, smiling.  “Do you like your new slutmelons?”

“No!” she said, and felt like she might cry.

“Come now,” said Scott.  “You said it yourself.  Being the best takes sacrifices.  And I had the surgeons make a few other helpful changes while they had you under.”

She felt panic.  “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, we’ve lasered away your pubic hair,” he said.  “You’ll have a nice smooth hairless cunt for the rest of your life now.  You’re welcome.”

That was why her cunt felt funny.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Scott didn’t hesitate.  He reached out and slapped her face, making her gasp.

“Temper, temper,” he said.  “What you meant to say was ‘thank you’, wasn’t it?  Or do you want another slap.”

She stared at him with hatred.

He slapped her again.

“Say it,” he said.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

“You’re welcome,” he said.  “Now, tell me, doesn’t it feel nice to have me near you like this?”

She opened her mouth to say that of course it didn’t – and then paused.  It *did* feel nice, for some reason.  In fact, the more she focused on his nearness, the more she felt a warm tingle in her pussy.

Was she… getting aroused?  From having a man nearby?

“I see that you’re feeling it,” said Scott.  “Good.  We’ve put a couple of little capsules in you, that communicate wirelessly.  They’re quite simple.  When they detect male pheromones, they release a tiny amount of a chemical into your bloodstream.  It gives you a mild endorphin high, and it also causes arousal.  Basically being around men will make you happy and horny.  Because it’s based on pheromones, the effect will be stronger if there’s more men, or if they’re sweaty or naked.  It’s mildly addictive, so you’re going to find you have a slight urge to seek out male company if there’s no men around.”

She was aghast.  When she had asked for help to get into a misogynistic country to play tennis, this wasn’t what she had meant!

But Scott was still talking.

“Now, if you get cum in your mouth, or in your pussy, it’s going to make you more than just a little happy.  The implants are going to release quite a rush of pleasurable chemicals.  I expect it’s going to feel more intense than the best lesbian sex you’ve ever had – and this feeling *will* be addictive.  Once you’ve had it a couple of times, you’re going to feel pretty rubbish if you go a while without getting it again.”

She would be addicted to men ejaculating into her?  Was Scott insane?

“I can see you’re not happy, princess,” said Scott.  “If you want, we can call it off here.”

“Yes!” she said.  “Yes, call it off!”

“Sure,” said Scott.  “You’ll have to pay me back for the surgery, of course.  And then there’s the 60 million dollar cancellation fee.  And without my help getting you into Etrebor, you won’t be playing any of the major championships this year.”

Alyona paused.  She wasn’t poor, and she had some significant prize money to her name.  But 60 million was still enough to ruin her.  And if she didn’t play any championships this year, it would basically end her career.

She whimpered.

“Oh, having second thoughts?” said Scott.  “I told you that it would take sacrifice to convince Etrebor that you liked fucking men.  Are you prepared to make that sacrifice, princess?”

She whimpered again.

And then, quietly: “Yes.”

“Ask me to fuck you, princess,” said Scott.

She was repelled.  She didn’t want to fuck a man.  She didn’t want to fuck *this* man.  She didn’t want to fuck *any man.

But she didn’t want to give up her career.  She wanted to be the best.  She wanted to win.

“Please fuck me, Scott,” she whispered.

“Good girl,” said Scott.  “I want you to say, ‘I need a man to fuck me.’  Can you say that for me?”

“I need a man to fuck me,” she said.

“And now say, ‘I want a man to rape me’,” he continued.

She grimaced.  But she did as she was told.

“I want a man to rape me,” she said.

“Good girl.  Now, keep chanting those, one after the other.”

She blushed.

“I need a man to fuck me.  I want a man to rape me,” she chanted.  “I need a man to fuck me.  I want a man to rape me.”

As she spoke, Scott undid his fly, and took out his hard cock.  He removed his shirt, and then his shoes, socks, pants and underwear.  Then he climbed up on the hospital bed, between her restrained, spread legs.

“Missionary isn’t my favourite position,” he said.  “But this will have to do.”

And then he was lowering himself on top of her.

She was revolted – and yet as the smell of him filled her nostrils – his manliness, his sweat, his pheromones – she experienced a wave of strange pleasure rolling through her, and she felt her cunt suddenly moisten with eagerness.  

Moments later, his cock was pressing against her pussy lips – and then sliding effortlessly into her wet fuckhole.  She made a small, horrified sound.  It was the first time she’d ever had a cock inside her, and until now the thought had made her feel sick.

It still did, to be honest, and yet her body was telling her something else – that it was natural, that it was good, that it made her feel good.  

“Your cunt feels good, princess,” said Scott.

“Thank you,” said Alyona, not knowing what else to say.

“Now, Etrebor is going to want to know you truly submit to their patriarchy,” said Scott.  He was lying atop her now, his bare chest against her newly-enlarged fuckbags, his cock balls-deep in her vagina, but not moving, not fucking.  

She whimpered a little again.

“I want you to say two things for me, princess,” said Scott.  “Keep repeating them while I fuck you.  Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” said Alyona.

“Say, ‘I’m nothing but a cunt,’ and then, ‘I deserve to be raped,’” said Scott.

“Do I really have to?” protested Alyona.

He laughed – and then slapped her.

“Don’t argue with me, princess,” he said.  “Just do it.”

“I’m… nothing but a cunt,” said Alyona, in a small voice.  “I deserve to be raped.”

“Good girl,” said Scott.  “Keep going.”

“I’m nothing but a cunt.  I deserve to be raped.”

And as she spoke, Scott began to fuck her, bouncing on top of her, his dick going in and out of her pussy with each motion.

She felt like she wanted to cry.  She was being raped – violated – by a man.  His disgusting cock was inside her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

And yet… it felt good.  The implants inside her were releasing pleasurable chemicals, telling her that she liked this man, that she enjoyed having him near her.  And her pussy was wet, and it was responding to the stimulation.  She supposed her cunt didn’t care if it was a dildo or a man’s cock – it just liked the feeling of being used.  

And, to her embarrassment, something about being restrained on the bed, unable to move, helpless to defend herself, just made it *better*.

“I’m nothing but a cunt,” she chanted.  “I deserve to be raped.”  She repeated the words again and again, until it felt like they were meaningless, like they were lodged in her head, bouncing around and around, trapped inside her.

Scott leaned in at one point and kissed her on the mouth, temporarily silencing her.  And she found herself kissing him back, unsure what else to do, parting her lips and letting his tongue into her mouth.  She wanted to gag, but her body was still telling her how nice this was.

And shortly after that, Scott suddenly sped up the pace of his fucking, faster, faster – and then shuddered to a halt.  Alyona had a vague sensation of a new kind of wetness in her cunt….

And then suddenly, she was orgasming.  Out of nowhere.  Her body bucked, and waves of pleasure went through her.  And it wasn’t any normal orgasm.  It was like a rush of pure pleasure in her brain at the same time.  It was the most intense thing she had ever experienced.

“Oh my god!” she wailed.  “Fuck!  Oh fuck!”

It was the capsules inside her, rewarding her for having a man cum in her pussy.  And the reward was truly amazing.

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Want to know more about the nation of Etrebor from this story?  You can learn all about it in my premium e-book The Etrebor Exchange, available now from AllTheseRoadworks.com for only $7.99 USD!  (Click here to view in store.)

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