Synopsis: A women’s rugby team makes it to the playoffs, and its star players have a locker room celebration at the expense of the opposing team’s captain.
This L+ (Multiple Mistress Lezdom) story features:
A Lost Bet, Bondage, Foot Fetish, Sock Fetish, Footdom in Socks, Erotic Humiliation, Forced Orgasm, and Strapon Play.
The afternoon sun beat down on the half-bleached, trampled pitch, and the scattered noise from the small but generously enthusiastic crowd mixed with the thundering and clashing on the field. We were into the last 20 minutes of the second half and I wish I could say it was close, but our home Blue Valkyries were well ahead and had frankly dominated the visiting Lady Vipers for the majority of the match.
I always loved to see my girlfriend Jocelyn play, and it filled me with a special mixture of admiration and pride. She was obviously so into the game and the sport in general, so obviously happy and in her element, and on top of it all it showed how tough and even ferocious she really was. She was a back (inside center to be exact), and she was fast and very skilled. You could see when the ball was in the scrum how her eyes would search out her path, how she’d note the defenders and the other backs on her team, and then the way her shoulders would rise as the ball came out and she’d start tearing down the field was just incredible.
The Blue Valkyries actually played mostly in black. Their jerseys were a mix of royal and electric blue with white accents, but their shorts and socks were black, which would show the dust and little flecks of grass after one of them went down. The other girls wore the odd pair of fluorescent orange or green boots, or white, but in Jocelyn’s case her boots and hair were black as well. The other team played in maroon and yellow, and the swirl of the colors clashing together as they tackled and spun off one another was hypnotic as it played out in front of the darkening clouds to the south.
The referee’s whistle blew and the two sides of the scrum started straining against each other, and I watched as Jocelyn yelled something to someone on the opposing side. I craned my head and saw a flushed and flustered woman, number 6, with the team captain’s “C” on the front of her jersey, wiping her hands on her shorts and yelling back defiantly. Jocelyn laughed and pointed tauntingly at her, and as the ball came out she took the pass and charged down the pitch. She looked over her shoulder for her teammates as they sprinted, and as the girl she was taunting leapt to tackle her she side-stepped and slammed into her, sending her off course and crashing into the ground.
She and the other backs passed a few times, dodging defenders, but it came back to Jocelyn for the try, and as she touched the ball to the ground she threw up her arms and cheered. I looked back down the field, clapping my hands, and saw the girl shaking her head, the sweat showing in her long, dirty blonde hair, and she stamped her boot dismissively and jogged back into place for the next round.
By the end of the match the wind had picked up and the small park emptied quickly after it was all over as it started to sprinkle with rain, but the Valkyries smiled as they milled about on the sidelines, took pictures with and congratulations from those fans that wanted to, and congratulated each other on their victory. I ran down and hugged Jocelyn, told her how proud I was of her and how happy I was that they had won, and she grinned and kissed me, obviously still soaring from the win. As the last of the fans and well-wishers went on their way the teams shook hands and went into their separate locker rooms, and I followed Jocelyn as she walked with her big Adidas duffel bag.
She put her arm around me and tossed back her head with relish as we brought up the rear of the team, and as we stepped through the door into the hallway she reached into her bag and passed me a little camcorder.
“Here,” she said. “Hold onto this for a second. I’ll tell you what to do in a minute.”
She gave me a wink and we went into the locker room, where the girls were changing back into their sweatpants and street clothes, and they debriefed for a few minutes and talked about having clinched a spot in the playoffs and about their path to the championship.
“I’m so proud of all of you,” Jocelyn said loudly, so everyone could hear over the noise. “Thank you so much for making this a great team!”
The Valkyries all cheered and one by one they finished changing and headed out to their cars, but as the hustle and bustle settled down I realized Jocelyn and a couple of her teammates hadn’t changed at all. They talked with each other, and with the girls around them, about the match, analyzing this run or that, and it seemed like they had just forgotten to get out of their kit. As the last girl who was going to left the changing room they called their goodbyes, and finally the four of us were left, Jocelyn and myself, and then Kendra and Alyssa, two of the other backs.
Alyssa pulled off her jersey and tossed it on one of the benches, but seemed content leaving it at that, with her white sports bra and her dirty shorts and socks leading down to her boots. Kendra was the only one of the three to really change clothes, and she stood up and pulled on her baggy black sweatpants with the big pink letters running down the leg as she spoke to Jocelyn.
“You think she’s chickening out?”
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