A hot shot playboy tennis pro is just hanging on

Tennis has always been my life since I was a small boy
in Mexico City. My father was the head gardener at an
estate owned by a very important man and he used to take
me with him so I could hit the balls on the court.

I had a talent and I used it to travel the world playing
tennis and enjoying the young women who follow the game.
Women were attracted to me and I easily won them but,
after a while, I stopped winning the tournaments. Now,
at twenty-four I wondered if I had squandered my talent.

At least that’s what my coach said as he walked out,
“You’ve fucked it up, Emillio,” he said as he walked out
of the Paris hotel bedroom where he had found me with
the wife of a tournament official. “You’ve lost the will
to play and you’re only interested in whores!” With
that, he flew back to Mexico.

That night, I sought advice from a fellow player, Steve,
a young Australian who has won two Grand Slam
tournaments and I have never managed to beat. “Get a new
coach,” he said as he swigged on his mineral water and I
noticed a young woman at the bar eyeing us.

“It is not that simple,” I moaned.

“Don’t get all fucking emotional on me, Em,” he said
calmly. “Just get a new coach and focus on the game, not
on the women.”

“Steve,” I said, nudging his arm, “that blonde girl at
the bar wants you. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Not interested,” he said matter-of-factly as he took
another swig of the water. “I have a girlfriend back in
Brisbane and I’m getting married next September.”

“She won’t know,” I urged, smiling at the girl.

“But I will. Look, Em, do you want to talk to me or do
you want to fuck that girl?”

“Steve,” I protested. “I’m a changed man.”

“I bet,” he said in that dry Australian tone. “Do you
know that Johnny has retired?”

“No!” I said shocked, as Johnny was only three years
older than I was.

“Yep. Can’t blame him. He’s won it all. He’s going back
to New York. That means,” he added meaningfully, “that
Ingrid Svenson is free to take on other players.”

Ingrid Svenson, the Iron Swede, was one of the few
female coaches that worked with male players. She had
been a cold disciplined player on the court and brought
those same characteristics to her coaching. Every player
she had worked with had won at least one big tournament
but strangely, she never coached women.

“She wouldn’t take me on,” I said ruefully. “I’m not
ranked high enough.”

“Neither was Johnny when she started coaching him.” We
sat in silence for a moment. “Do you want me to talk to
her?”

“You know her?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s a friend of mine and we have
a similar approach to discipline. She’s here in Paris
and I can set up a meeting.” Steve stood and looked down
at me as I smiled again at the blonde girl at the bar.
“Do you want me to set it up, Em?” he snapped.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “It can not hurt, my friend.”
Steve said goodnight and I headed over to the blonde
girl.

***

The telephone sounded like a fire alarm as I struggled
to wake up. “Allo,” I said groggily into the phone by
the bed, looking around to see if the blonde girl was
still there. She wasn’t, just a note on the pillow which
I crumpled up without reading and threw it onto the
floor.

“You awake?” Steve’s Australian drawl sounded in my ear.

“Of course,” I lied. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Bullshit,” he said succinctly. “Ingrid will meet you on
the terrace at one. Don’t be late, Em. She’s got a thing
about being punctual.”

For once, I was on time and I sat waiting for Ingrid as
I surveyed the world through my sunglasses. Suddenly,
she was standing in front of me, dressed in a black top
and leather trousers. Her blonde hair was pulled back
and gold jewellery glittered against her honey coloured
skin, her eyes were hidden behind gold rimmed
sunglasses. “Emillio Sanchez,” she said coolly,
extending her hand.

I took her hand. “It is exciting to meet you,” I said,
putting on my best boyish smile, which she totally
ignored as she sat.

“I’m sure it is,” she said sarcastically in that clipped
accent Swedes adopt when they speak English. Could this
woman be blind to my charm? Perhaps it is true she is a
lesbian? “Steve tells me you are looking for a coach?”

“Yes, I am without a coach at the moment. And you are
without players?”

“Johnny has announced his retirement according to our
plan,” she stated. “I have no plans to coach. I am
seeing you because Steve is a great player and a good
friend.”

“I need a coach,” I said.

“No one will coach you. You have no discipline,” she
said flatly.

“I will learn,” I said dramatically. “I need to learn as
I cannot return to Mexico a failure.”

For the next hour I attempted to persuade her as she
sipped her juice and picked at a plate of fresh fruit.
“You must help me or I am doomed!” I finally begged.

Ingrid laughed. “Such a passionate boy. However, I
understand you can’t follow rules?’

“Who would say such a thing!”

“Everybody,” she said simply. “You would have to follow
my rules. It is essential for my coaching technique to
be successful.”

“You have my word,” I vowed, one hand raised.

She laughed coldly. “I will have more than that.”

The contract was simple. She would get a very large
percentage of my earnings, I would follow her every
instruction and if I had not won a Grand Slam tournament
within one year, the contract was void. I didn’t need
long to think it over and I didn’t read it very
carefully before I signed.

Ingrid flew back to Stockholm, leaving me with
arrangements for a medical examination and plans to meet
in Las Vegas for training in a week’s time. The medical
examination was very thorough and I was a little
embarrassed when the doctor measured my cock and balls.
What could that have to do with Ingrid’s coaching
technique, I wondered?

I flew into McCarran International in Vegas and took a
limo to the address Ingrid had given me. Ingrid’s
coaching camp was not luxurious and was completely
secluded from the temptations of the Vegas strip. I
checked into a sparse bungalow, changed into my tennis
gear and began warming up on the courts.

A beautiful young woman in tight white shorts and a blue
top, which accentuated her large breasts, introduced
herself. “I’m Kimberley,” she said in a slow Southern
drawl as she tied her thick dark hair into a ponytail.
“Your fitness trainer.”

“I am very pleased to meet you,” I said taking her hand
and kissing it. When I looked up I was surprised by her
cool expression and I realised my charm was not working.
She jammed a cap on her head and led me to the gym. For
the next two hours, Kimberley tested every aspect of my
fitness and I was sweating and exhausted when we
finished.

I met with Ingrid in the afternoon and she was not
impressed with Kimberley ‘s report. “You are terribly
unfit,” she declared flatly. “You will never win with
that level of fitness. Kimberley will improve you,” she
said with a heavy finality.

“I’ll work hard,” I said in a tone of voice that I hoped
would persuade Ingrid of my humbleness. It was
disturbing my charm was having no effect.

“I know you will,” she said, leaning back in her chair,
studying me across the desk. “It is time Emillio, to
explain the technique I will use to coach you.” Ingrid
reached into a drawer and placed a tube made of thick
plastic with an equally thick Plastic ring attached to
it.

“What is that?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“It is a chastity tube,” she said calmly. “It fits over
your penis to control your impulses. It is a very clever
device that will be locked on and will still enable you
to move freely around the tennis court and through
airports. We don’t want the airport alarms to go off and
for you to be searched.” Her eyes glittered. “That would
be embarrassing for you and, perhaps, appear in the
gutter press.”

“You can’t be serious! You mean to take away my
manhood?” I cried passionately.

“Your manhood as you call it, has stopped you from
concentrating on improving your fitness and your game. I
remind you that you signed a contract. You must follow
my instructions and I instruct you to wear this. I will
leave the office and a nurse will fit it.”

“But, how will I get it off?”

“By working hard and by winning. I will decide. Are you
ready for me to call the nurse or do we have a legal
discussion regarding your contract. I assume you’ve read
the penalty clauses? You will never play tennis
professionally again.”

My head reeled. Penalty clauses, chastity tube? This was
the most crazy and frightening thing I had ever heard.
This woman was going to control my sexuality and I could
not allow it! A small voice in my head pointed out she
had the contract, I could not afford legal action and
this was my last chance to be a winner. Slumping in the
chair, realising I had no choice, I nodded and bowed my
head.

Ingrid left the room and an older nurse in a starched
uniform bustled in, carrying a bag. “I’m Nurse Wilkins.
Please remove your clothing from your lower half.” Numb,
I dropped my shorts and jockstrap and she coolly
threaded my cock through the tube, locking the ring in
place between by balls and my crotch.

I stared down at the tube gripping my cock and I
panicked. “Take it off,” I screeched. “I’ve changed my
mind!”

“Sorry,” Nurse Wilkins said briskly. “Ms. Svenson has
the only key and no locksmith can break the code. Now,”
she said in a businesslike manner, “Remember to direct
the shower nozzle onto your genitals to thoroughly clean
the area every day. And,” she added with a little smirk,
“you’ll have to sit to urinate. Have a good day,” she
said as she left, leaving me pulling my shorts back up.

The tube was not uncomfortable but it was tight and I
suddenly realised that it would be impossible to get a
hard-on in this thing.

Ingrid smiled at me from the doorway and I flushed.
“Now,” she said evenly, “we work.”

***

Mornings were spent with Kimberley as she worked me
through various exercise sessions – weights, sprints,
swimming, I did everything but tennis. I found the
chastity tube was comfortable and I even forgot about it
as I worked out. However, every morning the sharp pain
as my cock vainly attempted to get hard, reminded me of
it’s presence.

Afternoons were spent on the court with Ingrid pounding
balls at me. She was older than me but had been one of
the great players with all the skills that ran me around
the court. Her serve wasn’t as powerful as mine but the
placement and the topspin beat me regularly.

I also marvelled at her taught trim body in the tennis
shorts and top until my cock squirmed in the chastity
device. After a healthy evening meal I collapsed in bed
with exhaustion to sleep until it started all over
again.

A week had passed and I was becoming very horny, as
horny as I could with no chance of getting hard, let
alone relief. I realised this was the longest I had ever
been without coming and it was beginning to drive me
mad, so mad, I attempted to talk Ingrid into allowing me
to get out of it.

“It is driving me loco,” I said to her after we finished
the tennis session.

“You will have to get used to it,” she said calmly.

“But, it is terrible,” I whined. “Can’t I just, you
know,” I said softly, face burning.

“Masturbate?” she said calmly. “Jerk off? What do you
call it, Emillio?”

“Si, both of those things,” I murmured, blushing.

“Are you asking me to let you jerk off?” she said, her
voice louder and I looked around at the empty court.

“Yes, yes,” I said quickly in case Kimberley returned.

She studied me thoughtfully for moment. “You got to this
stage more quickly than I planned. However,” she said
briskly, “we can move ahead. There is a small
professional tournament next week, here in Vegas. You
reach the final and I will allow you to play with
yourself.”

The way this beautiful woman said it in those clipped
tones of hers as she smiled at me caused me to blush
deeply. I felt so humiliated but the arousal drove me
on. “Next week! Ingrid,” I begged, “I cannot wait until
then.”

“You have no choice, Emillio,” she said with finality.
“And,” Ingrid reminded me, “you have to get through to
the final.”

***

The next morning, Kimberley was dressed in tight white
shorts that hugged her round ass and a sleeveless, low
cut top, which emphasised her large breasts. I groaned
to myself as my cock throbbed in the chastity tube and
threw myself into the exercises. My eyes were drawn to
her smooth ass time and time again as we worked and,
although her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, I guessed
she noticed me looking.

We finally finished and Kimberley smiled at me. “Good
work,” she said. “For the first time, Emillio, I felt
you were really trying.”

Trying to forget my poor cock, I thought to myself but,
instead, said, “I’m getting better at it.”

“You are. And,” she said, smiling as she loosened her
thick red hair, “I’m going to reward you with two pieces
of information.” She moved closer to me and her warm arm
rested on my forearm as she pushed her breasts against
me. “You’ve been looking so hard, I’ll tell you,” she
breathed. “I am wearing a very brief thong under my
shorts and,” she added as my cock tingled, “the thong is
white. Satisfied, honey?” she giggled and walked away,
her ass moving in those shorts while my cock pulsed in
frustration.

Fuelled by frustration and anger, I finally beat Ingrid
in the first set and she silently applauded me as I
stood sweating on the back line. For the rest of the
afternoon, she mercilessly forced me to practice every
type of serve imaginable.

“Tomorrow,” she said watching me as I mopped my face
with a towel; “we volley and work on the net.”

Frustration was with me every waking moment and I was so
focused on the tournament, determined to get through to
the final that I worked so hard the next morning,
Kimberley called for a break.

We sat in the shade under a tree out of the hot Vegas
Sun and sipped from our bottles. “Ingrid tells me she’s
going to let you jerk off if you get through to the
finals,” she said in such a matter of fact tone I was
completely taken aback and could only nod while I
blushed. “You better make the finals, Emillio,”
Kimberley smiled. “Or you may never hold your dick for
the rest of your contract. Ingrid can be such a bitch.”

“Did she use this same technique on Johnny?’ I asked,
embarrassed to be talking about it but I had wondered
about Johnny.

“Oh no,” Kimberley said. “Ingrid’s technique is to find
the one thing that lets her control people and she
callously uses it. With Johnny, it was money and
prestige. Your one thing was easy,” she laughed. “Your
cock!”

“And you? What does she use on you to keep you here?”

Kimberley smiled and stood in front of me so her crotch,
covered by tight black lycra shorts was in my face. “Me?
She knows I like to tease,” she smiled, pushing her
crotch closer to my face. “No thong today, Emillio,”
Kimberley said softly and, dry mouthed I stared at her
crotch, cock throbbing intensely. “Today,” she laughed.
“I’m going commando.”

That afternoon I threw myself into the practice as I did
every day after that until I was blasting Ingrid off the
court. In the mornings, I sullenly followed Kimberley
and tried to control my frustration.

***

The tournament finally arrived and on the first day, on
a court far from centre court, I breezed through my
first match in straight sets. I expected compliments
from Ingrid but, instead, she started telling me about
my opponent for the next day. It didn’t matter as I
blasted that one off the court in straight sets as well
and that form continued as I moved steadily towards
centre court and the finals.

As I played, I completely ignored the pretty girls in
the stands and when they asked for autographs I was
polite but distant. I had no choice as my cock pounded
whenever I was near any woman.

The morning of the final came and Kimberley helped me
pack my bag. “Big night tonight,” she smiled. “You get
to play with your cock again.”

Blushing, I nodded and I was happily looking forward to
it.

“You know, Emillio,” Kimberley breathed. “We could make
it special.”

“What do you mean?” I murmured and she leaned closer,
those big tits pushing against me.

“We could make it a little better than just a quick
jerkoff.” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like that?”

“Si,” I croaked.

“Win it, then. Win the final,” she breathed in my ear.

I nearly ran on the court and with white-hot precision I
powered through my opponent without even dropping a
game. I was ruthless and the crowd erupted when I
politely shook hands with my devastated opponent. The
media conference was small and quick and I smiled and
answered questions humbly.

“Is this the new Emillio Sanchez?” the reporter asked
sarcastically.

I ignored the sarcasm and glanced at Ingrid in the
corner. “This is the winning Emillio Sanchez,” I said
and left the conference.

After showering and changing, I waited in front of my
bungalow for Kimberley. Ingrid had simply told me to
enjoy myself and the thought of what might happen had my
cock squirming in the chastity tube. Kimberley roared up
in her sports-car, dark hair loose and dressed in a
short, figure hugging white dress. She flashed me a
smile and we drove at high speed to the Flamingo Hilton
on the strip.

The valet fawned over her as she led me to a suite.
Shutting the door, she smiled at me and my cock squirmed
once more. “A good win today,” she said, sliding her
arms around my waist and I stared down at her large
breasts. “Ingrid was damn pleased.” She noticed where I
was looking and laughed. “You are one horny boy, aren’t
you?”

“You said it would be special,” I leered.

“Okay, get your clothes off.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice and I quickly stripped
all my clothes off, standing before her in my chastity
tube. Kimberley bundled all my clothes up and calmly
walked out the door, leaving me naked and confused. When
she returned without the clothes, she smiled. “Just a
guarantee you’ll put that thing back on when we’re
finished. There’s nothing for you to wear in this suite
and no money. Nothing.”

“Ingrid thinks of everything,” I said bitterly.

“Yes, that’s why you won today, kiddo.” Kimberley handed
me a small key. “That will unlock it.”

I fumbled for a moment and managed to slide the tube
off. In seconds my poor cock surged to hardness.

Kimberley giggled. “Poor thing,” she smiled. “Didn’t
take long at all.”

I moved towards her and she raised a hand. “Stop. Move
any closer and I scream. Ingrid has detectives outside
and you’ll be arrested for rape. End of a career that’s
just starting to shine.”

“But…” I said, confused. “You said it would be
special.”

“And it will be.” Kimberley smiled at me. “You don’t
have to jerkoff alone. I’ll be here to give you
something to look at.”

“What!” I was shocked. “Couldn’t you?” I asked, leaving
it unfinished but she knew what I was asking and shook
her head.

“Nope. I do fitness, not handjobs, buster. That
tournament wasn’t that big a win. Now,” she said
briskly, “I’ve got some Kleenex here for you.” She
handed me a wad of tissues. “Why don’t you get on with
it so we can go and have a celebratory drink.”

My cock throbbed and I desperately wanted to cum so I
slid my hand around it in that familiar grip. “That’s
the boy,” she smiled. “Do it slow so you get enjoyment
out of it.” My hand started to slide up and down my cock
as I flushed with embarrassment but I couldn’t stop.
Quickly, I was heading for the edge and she sensed it.

“Emillio,” she called and I opened my eyes.

Kimberley was holding her dress up and I stared at the
white lace panties that barely covered her pussy.
“Here’s something to think about in the weeks ahead,”
she giggled and I moaned. “Told you I liked teasing.”

It was too much and I shuddered with a groan and spurted
and spurted into the wad of Kleenex until I collapsed in
a chair.

“That was great,” Kimberley said calmly, dropping her
dress. “I’ve never seen a guy do that before. Ingrid
told me I’d get to see it but I didn’t really believe
her.

“Boy, I could never do that in front of someone, it
would be so embarrassing. You feel embarrassed, honey?”
she drawled and I looked away. “Poor baby,” she smiled.

“Get cleaned up and get that chastity thing back on.
When you’ve done that, I’ll get your clothes and we can
go for a drink.”

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