Story: The Etrebor Open, Part 5

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four

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This was what it had all been for.  Alyona was travelling to Etrebor to compete in the Etrebor Open.

She presented with her “husband” Scott at the airport, and identified herself as the Rapeable Cunt zol Scott.

But new surprises awaited her, when Scott informed her that she would be flying “pet” class.  She was required to strip naked, and then she was paired up with another girl – a pretty teen, who she had never met before, whose parents were emigrating to Etrebor.  She and the teen were forced into a 69 position, and bound in place.  Alyona’s mouth was right against the pretty teen’s cunt, and she could feel the teen’s breath against her own pussy.  The teen girl – who Alyona referred to as “Cumtunnel zol Ben” was clearly humiliated and terrified.

Scott took a moment to write his name and phone number on Alyona’s thigh in permanent marker, so that he could be contacted “in case his luggage got mislaid”.

Then both girls were given an injection in their breast, that Scott told her was to make her “happy and calm”, and then they were pushed into a wire dog-cage that left them no room whatsoever to move.  The dog cage was loaded onto the plane, and soon Alyona and the girl were left, restrained and nude, in a darkened cargo hold.  They were aware of other cages around them, holding similarly-restrained pairs of women, but they couldn’t see them.  Alyona could hear wet sounds, and slutty moans, and she was fairly sure that some of those women were licking each other’s cunts.

The injection that Alyona had been given soon revealed its effects.  It not only numbed Alyona’s mind, making her calmer and stupider, but it was also a strong aphrodisiac, and as the plane took off, Alyona felt her cunt wettening.  She could smell the wetness of the teen’s pussy too, so close to her mouth.

“Please,” begged the teen girl in the darkness.  “Please don’t rape me.”

At the word “rape”, Alyona felt her pussy throb.  She tried to ignore it.

But her cunt just got wetter.  And wetter.  And the girl was getting wetter too and Alyona’s nose was full of the thick scent of her cunt honey.

And finally Alyona couldn’t help herself. She extended her tongue and licked the girl’s pussy.  It tasted amazing.  Then she pushed her face forward, parting the girl’s cunt lips with her own lips, and took the girl’s clitoris into her mouth.

The girl was squealing and struggling, but unable to get away.

Alyona sucked the girl’s clitoris, hard – and then put her teeth against it, and pressed down, ever so slightly.

Then she pulled back.

“Lick me, you little slut,” she growled, “or I’ll bite it.”

Would she get in trouble for this?  Not in Etrebor, she knew, where it was legal to use a woman however you liked.  

And when the teen tentatively began to lick at Alyona’s pussy, while crying softly in the dark, Alyona stopped caring, because it felt too good.

She moaned and humped her cunt against the girl’s face, and then leaned in to return the favour, eagerly licking at the teen girl’s cleft and fucktunnel, and sucking on her clitoris.

It was fun to use a woman, she learned.  It was fun to not care about her humanity, or her consent, and force her to give you sexual pleasure.  It felt natural.  It felt right.

By the time the plane touched down in Etrebor, Alyona had accepted that she was a rapist – and that she would rape women again, if that was what it took to make her pussy feel good.

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After the flight landed, Scott left Alyona in baggage claim for nearly an hour while he got a drink at the airport bar.  The teen girl was removed from the cage and claimed by her parents, and Alyona watched the father openly slap the girl and tell her to stop being a brat when the girl tried to explain how Alyona had forced her to lick Alyona’s cunt.

When Scott finally did arrive for Alyona, he had a collar and a leash.  He had not discussed this in advance, but Alyona was already beginning to appreciate just how few rights women had in Etrebor, and she had no doubt that if she resisted, the burly airport security guards would assist Scott in obtaining her compliance.

She allowed the collar to be buckled around her neck, and the leash attached.  Then Scott went a step further, and cuffed her wrists behind her back.  This had the effect of forcing her tits outwards prominently – but also making her very keen to keep up with her leash-holder, as she would now not be able to protect herself if she were tugged off her feet and fell to the ground.

A crowd of male reporters were waiting on the airport concourse, eager to take pictures of the international women’s tennis star, naked and leashed like a pet.  She knew photos of her nude body would be on all the sports websites tomorrow.

“Alyona!  Alyona!” called out one reporter.

Alyona blushed.  “Please don’t use my deadname,” she said.  “My name is Cunt zol Scott now.”  She knew she was required to say this.  If she abandoned any part of her carefully crafted persona now, she might be arrested for entering the country under false pretences.

“Cunt!” cried another reporter.  “How does it feel to be naked and collared and leashed like a fuckpig?”

“It feels good,” blushed Alyona.  “I think this is how all women want to be, even if they don’t know it.”

“Cunt!” said someone else.  “Some people are saying this is all an act to hide the fact that you’re a lesbian.  What do you say to that?”

Scott answered for her now.  “Why don’t you stick your cock in her and see if she’s wet for it?  That should put any rumours to bed.”

Alyona didn’t want to fuck some random journalist – but Scott led her over to a bench, and forced her to bend over, facing it, with her ass out.  She had to rest her face on the bench, as she couldn’t support herself with her cuffed hands.  And right there, in front of the entire airport, the journalist got out his hard cock, and pushed it into her exposed pussy.

And she *was* wet for it.  She blushed as the anonymous journalist raped her in public, but she orgasmed twice – before the reporter ejaculated into her, and again afterwards.

“That should answer that, gentlemen,” said Scott.  “And now I need to get Cunt to her hotel room to prepare for the tournament.”

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The hotel room was nice.  Scott fucked Alyona twice before consigning her to the pet bed placed at the foot of his own king-sized bed.  Then he ordered up an Etreborian prostitute and fucked her in the bed too.  Alyona listened to her “husband” enjoying the Etreborian woman as she masturbated in her dog bed, rising up only when Scott had finished cumming in the woman, and sent her over to Alyona.

“Lick the whore’s pussy clean, Cunt,” he instructed, and Alyona obediently licked her husband’s cum from the sex worker’s shaved twat.

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The next day was registration for the tournament, which all happened at a large Etreborian building near to the tennis centre.

Alyona still couldn’t read Etreborian, and after her treatment for “stupidity” she wasn’t sure she could really read English either, so she just had Scott fill out all her paperwork.  Apparently it included an exhaustive explanation of her sexual history and sexual fetishes.  Scott massaged this bit to minimise her lesbianism and emphasise how desperate she was to service male cock.

Then there was a photoshoot – and this should have been a further degradation for Alyona, but instead it was the first time she felt like all her preparation was finally paying off.

The photoshoot was in the nude, and the images would be reproduced in booklets sold to the audience at the tournament.  The photographers wanted a series of specific images: Alyona cupping her tits, Alyona spreading her pussy, Alyona fucking her cunt with the handle of a tennis racquet, Alyona sucking on a cock, Alyona having her cunt penetrated by a dick, and finally Alyona smiling happily with cum on her face.

It was humiliating, of course, to fuck herself with a tennis racquet for the camera, and then such the cock of an Etreborian man whose name she didn’t even know, and then let him rape her pussy, before cumming on her face.

But what made it empowering was the fact that *every* female tennis player competing in the tournament was required to go through this.  Most weren’t even aware it was going to happen.  None were prepared for it.  And so Alyona watched smugly as her competitors and rivals – the women she had seen as her peers all her life – had their clothes ripped from them as they screamed and struggled.  She watched the photographers slapping them until they agreed to push a tennis racquet up their twats.  She watched men force their cocks into the woman’s mouths, and their cunts, as the women cried.  And then each of the world’s top female tennis players received a decorative load of sperm on their face.

By the end the women were shaken, scared, and broken.   They looked in no condition to contest a tennis tournament.

But Alyona wasn’t broken.  She was used to rape by this point.  She was accustomed to being objectified for cameras, and dominated by men.  She felt fine.

This was what her intensive training had bought her.  And it felt good.

These other women – these silly sluts – should have hired trainers like Scott.  They should have at least read the fine print on their entry into the tournament, and their visas to enter the country.

And suddenly Alyona didn’t feel like a stranger in a scary country.  She realised that she fit in better here than any of these other women here.  She belonged, in a way they didn’t.  She was adapted – not all the way, but far more than any of her peers.

She no longer minded so much that the tennis association offices didn’t have women’s toilets – just a large public litterbox on the ground floor.  She was less bothered by ads that sold such products as spiked condoms “to make sure your brat daughter cries the next time you rape her” or tit-leashes, or “Slut Chow” low-grade food for women.  

There was a day to relax between the registration and the start of the tournament, but Scott had already scheduled her time.  He had sold tickets to ten of Alyona’s biggest fans to have “one-on-one time” with her, and Alyona quickly realised that this meant sex.  She spent the entire day in her hotel room spreading her legs for tennis fans, letting them slap her and maul her tits and rape her pussy.  

She slept well that night, with a pussy full of a fan’s sperm.

And the next day was the tournament.

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She arrived at the stadium to find the other female competitors distraught and in tears.  Some of them were yelling at Etreborian officials, who remained impassive, unmoved by their distress.

The Etreborian tennis organisation had changed the rules for the tournament at the last minute.  The women were now to compete completely naked, with a small weight connected by a chain to their clitoris.  

The female competitors were screaming that this wasn’t allowed, that it contradicted international rules, that they couldn’t be forced to play under these conditions.

After some time an official came forward and spoke into a microphone.  He confirmed that the tournament *would* proceed under the new rules, and it was up to the women whether they chose to compete.  However, at this stage there was no statement from the International Tennis Federation opposing the change, and in the absence of such a statement it was assumed that the Etreborian Open would still contribute to international standings and qualifications.

The official paused, and then noted that if the women had entered the country on a special visa for the purpose of playing tennis, a failure to play tennis under that visa would result in them being placed in immigration detention and possibly charged with crimes.

A few women still refused to compete – including one of the top challengers, an American woman, who was subsequently strip-searched publicly in front of the other women, and then led away in a collar and a leash to face “immigration detention”.

The rest chose to play.

The assembled crowd in the stadium hooted and hollered as the first women came onto the court, blushingly stripped nude in front of tens of thousands of observers, and then spread their pussies to allow the weights to be attached to their clit.  

And then they played – awkwardly, pathetically, humiliatingly.  They couldn’t even serve properly.  They couldn’t bring themselves to stretch their arms upwards in a way that pushed their tits forward.  They were embarrassed to take the correct stance to receive the ball – legs spread, leaning forwards slightly, knowing that they were showing their anus and pussy to the crowd behind them.  

And on the few occasions when they ran to intercept a ball, they would come up short, squealing in pain as the weight bounced on their clitoris and tangled in their legs.

The announcers calling the matches commented on the women’s tits and cunt, discussing their relative state of arousal, and reading out the women’s measurements and sexual histories, before speculating in detail on how enjoyable they might be to rape.

 The drinks provided to the players were also spiked with drugs to make them more aroused and more submissive – and which also interfered with their control of their bladder.  The top-ranked women’s player in the world ended up wetting herself in the middle of a set, with the entire world watching – and then visibly orgasming from the humiliation.

All of this combined to make this the most successful tournament of Alyona’s career.  She didn’t lose a single match.  In fact, she didn’t lose a single *game*.  She was the only woman present who had trained to play in the nude, the only woman who had trained to play with a painful weight on her clitoris, the only woman who trained to play with her unsupported boobs bouncing, and the only woman who had become used to being degraded, objectified and humiliated while playing tennis.

She destroyed every opponent.  The crowd cheered her name – “Cunt!  Cunt!  Cunt!”.  The video boards showed her photo, twenty times life-size – the image of her fucking her pussy with the tennis racquet was the most popular.

Each night she went back and fucked Scott in delirious happiness.  Every decision he had made in training her was validated.  At this tournament, she was the greatest female player in the world.  She would go down in history.  The history books would remember “Cunt zol Scott”.  There was talk that Etrebor might even name a public brothel near the stadium after her, or possibly the stadium’s primary female litterbox.

After she finally won the final match, Alyona thought she would be done – that she had won.

But the Etreborian tennis association announced a final surprise.

“If we were to award the prize now,” they said, “we would be recognising the most talented tennis player here.  But these are women, and tennis is an irrelevant talent for women, and they should not be rewarded for it.  So despite the foregoing matches, the winner of the tournament will be decided in the following manner.  The competitors will report to the main stadium and be strapped onto special tables, where they will be repeatedly raped by Etreborian men.”

The female players were horrified.

“Advanced Etreborian technology will allow us to determine the exact moment that a woman’s egg has been fertilised, and she has been successfully impregnated.  The first woman to fall pregnant wins the tournament,” the official announced.  “The rapes will then continue until 60% of competitors are pregnant, or until three days have passed, whichever occurs first.”

Some of the women tried to struggle and run, but the tournament contracts permitted the organisers to use violence to enforce the rules.  Every woman was strapped nude to a raping table before a cheering crowd.  And then the rapes began.

Alyona hadn’t come all this way to lose at the last minute, and when the first muscular Etreborian man shoved his hard cock into her wet pussy, she used every ounce of strength to squeeze his cock with her cunt muscles, to buck against him, helping him to cum quickly so that she could receive sperm faster and more efficiently than the other women.  

She willed her body to become pregnant, begging her womb to accept the Etreborian sperm.  The thought of getting pregnant scared her, but nevertheless she tried to think positive thoughts about her belly swelling with an Etreborian child, her tits growing as they filled with milk.

“Breed me,” she whispered as the men fucked her.  “Put a baby in me.  Please.  I want to win.”

It seemed bizarre to her that only months ago she had been a lesbian, disgusted by the thought of sex with men.  She had been an un-serious person, unwilling to do what it took to succeed in a man’s world.  She felt so lucky that Scott had trained her to serve cock, and broken down the inhibitions that were keeping her from finding true success.

She orgasmed so many times during her rapes – not just from the hard cocks violently penetrating her, but from hearing the cheers of the crowd, their laughter and lust at her degradation, and the tears and sobs of the other women around her.  

And sometimes, the person who eventually wins a contest is just the person who *wants* it most – and that person was Alyona.  Shortly after the conclusion of her sixth rape, the machine that was attached to her belly by electrodes issued a harsh beep, and the announcers declared that Alyona was pregnant.

Part of her was devastated.  Only six rapes?  She wanted more.

“Please, can I keep going?” she whispered to the attendants who had begun disconnecting her from the machine.  But they shook their heads, unmoved by the tears that formed in the corner of Alyona’s eyes.

It took another 12 hours of rapes to impregnate 60% of the world’s professional female tennis players, and at that point the tournament was finally over.  Alyona was crowned as champion – a ceremony that involved the head of the Etreborian tennis association masturbating as she knelt in front of him, and ejaculating onto her face.  

Then they had her bend over, and the trophy – shaped like a tennis racquet, with its handle pointing upwards – was pushed into her anus while she masturbated.  

The photo of that moment would grace every sports website in the world.

===

But after the tournament, there was some surprising news for Alyona.

“Pregnant women aren’t allowed to leave Etrebor,” Scott told her.  “It’s to prevent them having an abortion.  You’re stuck here until you deliver the baby.”

“But that’s nine months!” complained Alyona.  “I’ll miss the rest of the tennis season!”

“Well, the tennis season is disrupted anyway,” said Scott.  “The majority of the world’s female tennis players are now in the same situation as you, so the other international tournaments can’t really be validly held.”

Alyona was forced to wait in Etrebor, attending government mandated courses on how to be a good housewife, on the inferiority of women generally, on the Etreborian language, and other topics of interest to an immigrant soon-to-be-mother.

After two months, Scott had good news, though.

Etrebor had negotiated with the International Tennis Federation . The pregnant women were to be released from Etrebor on special visas and allowed to play in international matches – they could still complete the season before they were too gravid to undertake physical activity.  However, they would be returned to Etrebor after each match, and while overseas their cunts would be locked shut using labial piercings and combination locks to prevent them terminating their pregnancies.

Further, the International Tennis Federation had agreed that future women’s tournaments would be held in the Etreborian style – with women required to compete nude, with painful weights hanging from their sexual organs.  This was the future of women’s tennis – and, Etrebor hoped, of women’s sport generally.

Alyona was delighted.  Not only could she compete, but she could do it in the manner that had given her such an advantage in the Etreborian Open.  Even now, the other serious female competitors were beginning to train nude, and practice being abused and objectified, but Alyona had a nearly insurmountable lead.

She couldn’t divorce Scott, of course.  She had accepted that she would be his wife – and his property – forever.  Even if Etrebor had allowed her to break up with him, she knew now that she needed him.  It was his cruel treatment of her that had made her a success, and she could only hope that he would continue to find new cruelties to visit upon her to help her keep up with the new, evolving nature of her sport.

And that meant that her name would be Cunt forever.  She would never again be Alyona.

It didn’t matter.  As she lay on her husband’s bed, sucking his cock while shoving her Etreborian trophy in and out of her asshole, and listened to him kissing a big-titted prostitute who he had informed her was prettier and more attractive than her in every way, she knew that all her dreams had come true.

She was a role model for every woman who wanted to play tennis.  And when the daughter that was growing in her belly came of age, she would teach *her* to play tennis too – and maybe some day they would be the first mother-daughter doubles pair to have Etreborian championship trophies pushed into their asses…

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That’s the FINAL CHAPTER of The Etrebor Open – but you can find more tales of Etrebor in The Etrebor Exchange, a novella-length e-book available at AllTheseRoadworks.com for only $7.99 USD!  Plus your purchase shows your appreciation, and supports the creation of new, free erotica. (Click here to view in store.)

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