Team Player
The war room looked like every other in the W: scouts, assistants and a head coach gathered around a large table, all of them on at least their third caffeinated beverage of some variety, crumpling up scouting reports and throwing them into an increasingly overloaded wastebasket. Numbers flew around like butterflies, ready to be pounced upon by a net as draft day approached. The only major difference was that the returning veterans were also in the room; eight women needed to be eleven, and they pored through the game film and the pictures to find their new teammates with even more urgency than the staff. Only a closer look at the manicured fingers that danced across exposed cleavage, the tight crosses of their legs, and the flaunting of their high heels as they tapped them in mock impatience gave away their true intentions.
“Frannie Lou Davidson,” the redheaded center said with a purr. “She... grades... at a C, and look at that flexibility. She’s got your kind of athleticism.”
“She’s a C on the letter scale, but she’s projected at third overall. Did you want to play for Minnesota, Chris? I’m sure you could pick up a nice cheap ride at Becky Bulldog’s. And the Danes might even have some of our team unity, though I doubt it, given the way they were screeching at each other after we beat them by 23,” the coach replied. His voice was even and serious enough to snap Chris into a blank sitting position and a feeble nod of agreement, though the twinkle in his eye kept her from trembling in fear of being traded.
“It’s okay, Chris, I’d never trade you for just another dumb blonde, and certainly not for another dumb point guard. There isn’t anyone else in this league who puts up as much of a challenge when someone tries to go towards the hole,” Rick said, running his hand up Chris’s thigh and feeling her relax before she grabbed it playfully and returned to her job.
“Good point, coach. Have to watch that penetration, after all,” Chris said with a weak grin. The rest of the team laughed as they resumed their work.
Rick Cline took stock of his current roster while they went through the glamor pictures, candids taken by fans, and racy pictures from the seniors’ own Facebook pages. Like every other coach in the league, he scouted players hard, and he had his list of twenty possibles for his three draft picks, all based on positional need, statistics, and girls that would fit his system. But the meat of the matter was finding the three players who would fit best with the Detroit Wheels, the ones who would make Rick Cline happy. There were no pretenses here; if there were, ti was only because his team knew that he liked to be flirted with with double entendres.
His team. If he wanted to be honest with himself, or honest with the community he was a reluctant part of, he would have called them his harem, but team had a better fit to it. Harem was for immature frat boys and high school boys who couldn’t decide which cheerleader they wanted to fuck, so they took them all like a greedy kid at a candy store. None of them had the maturity to figure out that the ensuing sickness was way worse than any stomachache could ever be.
Besides, the three rings he wore were honors, not focus objects; earned, not taken. His women were expert professional basketball players first and foremost; his system made them a true work of art on the basketball court and in the community. The fact that he selected works of art off the court was simply for his own pleasure. He had earned this right, and he could tell that not one member of the team was questioning their contract this year, which almost guaranteed them another deep run into the playoffs once the season started- and if they all continued to present themselves as the sexual women they were, the seats would be full again, and Rick would be more focused on his team than ever. All of that was as much a testament to Rick’s work off the court as it was to the Wheels’ play on the court. Even with controllers flooding the college ranks and the evil that infested Detroit, the Wheels kept on churning, thanks to his girls’ awareness and his own intelligence.
“So you think the Cain twins may be the least bit able?” Tanya asked, disrupting Rick’s reverie. Her black pageboy looked out of place, but her textbook 36-26-36 figure and sense of style made her just as exhilarating, even if she was the team’s only full-fledged lesbian.
“Someone wants to make out with Christian girls to mock them,” Chris said, throwing a ball of paper at her.
“Naaahhh, she wants to make them make out with each other to prove how busted they already are!” Nneka suggested, her over-relaxed hair actually showing signs of movement as he leaned back in her chair in hysterics.
“Enough fooling around. I don’t do the last test, and I don’t do cheesy rescue missions. If you want that, I”ll ask the league about expanding to Denver, but we already know what they’d call us. You want someone from Ted Baker, I hear there’s a free agent post in town, if you don’t mind searching the factory district for her,” Rick snapped, and everyone turned pale as he reminded them what lurked in the darkest parts of Detroit.
“Besides, you know they’re both going to be named Amy in two weeks. Right looks? Malleable brains? It’d be a slam dunk... if we had any of those in this league. I’ve got a hidden gem for you, Coach. You have to see her. Paige Dawson. 5′8″, blonde, shoots the lights out, and, well, look at this tryout photo.” Tracy Schue sauntered over with the laptop covering her open jacket. Rick’s smile grew wider. Tracy was team captain for a reason, even if her stiff knees made her more of a situational player than the all-around superstar that her jersey sales would indicate.
That reason, of course, was Rick’s stiff cock as Tracy made her way toward him and handed him the laptop, revealing to everyone’s lack of surprise that she was completely topless as she dropped the jacket. Even at 34, Tracy could spring him faster than any flavor-of-the-week nineteen-year-old model. But he was here to scout talent, and as she lowered herself to her knees and unzipped his pants, he covered her wanton face with the screen and pressed Enter.
The masterful strokes of Tracy’s fingers, followed by her tongue on his cock, served to give him the fantasy of his prospect doing the same to him. Twelve years on the Wheels made Tracy very aware of what Rick had done to her- but she had come to accept it, and was now the team’s den mother, making sure his control held, letting him know of any problems, and allowing her to be the most open about what Rick was really looking for in a scouting report. Whatever was on that computer was going to be good, so eh gave in and opened the Facebook profile to see a pretty blonde sprawled out on her dorm room bed, game shorts around her ankles, blue and white uniform matching the blue sheets and bluer dong she dangled next to her panties. It had to have been a sorority or even team dare to take the picture, but the fact that she was willing to showed that there was a core of wanton sexuality he could build his programming around. With Tracy working on him down below, he gave in, closing his eyes to see that perfect blonde body completely naked as she pleasured herself with the team-colored dong and recited her loyalty to the team, to her coach, to her teammates... screaming “I am a Detroit Wheel!” as the building orgasm overrode her doubts and resistance. Then there would be the release, and the sleepy, mindless grin that followed her initiation as she let the afterglow complete the brainwashing that would make her a better player, a better person- and most importantly, a Detroit Wheel.
“Thanks for the milkshake, coach. Nothing tastier in the world,” Tracy said, long since cleaned up and back in her blue and yellow skirtsuit. From the moans of the other girls lezzing out or pleasuring themselves, he knew his beloved captain had taken him for a good hour-long ride. He kissed her softly on the lips, as he did all his players after they served him, then got down to work. A look at Paige’s basketball numbers and two archived webcasts convinced him that she was worthy of his first-round pick,and wrote it down on the board to total approval from his team.
“A bit of a reach here by Detroit, but Rick Cline likes to gamble when he’s this far down in the draft, and Paige Dawson is a gamble. She put up an incredible scoring average at Rapid City State, but she didn’t play the same level of athlete night in and night out as some of the other players on the board,” the announcer said as an ecstatic Paige ran up on stage and practically tore the jersey out of the commissioner’s hands before they could take the promo picture. She had no thoughts of being a first-round pick; she was only in the studio on the off chance she was first picked in the second round, and most pools had her as the 2010 winner of the “last poor kid in the green room” award. If she had known anything about the undercurrents, and if she’d been able to hear the television analysis, her joy would have turned into panic at a moment, and she wouldn’t have skipped so eagerly up the stairs to the stage in her blue dress and strappy heels.
“Well, Gary, everyone in the W knows that Rick Cline is a system coach who only brings in system players, and I think you can tell just by looking at Dawson that she fits Rick Cline’s system perfectly,” Rebecca Bullard said to millions on the air. Her disdain for Rick Cline came through loud and clear to anyone who was even half paying attention- but to anyone who knew the sordid secrets behind the respectable masks of the league, she had called him out as a wannabe and dismissed him as anything more than a horndog with a taste for blondes.
But Paige’s joy would not be spoiled by that poison as she posed with her 2010 Wheels jersey and stared into the cameras flashing away. She was too jazzed up to even notice Rick’s hand sliding onto her ass as he pulled her in closer for the photo opportunities. “Thank you so much, Coach Cline! Oh my God, I can call you Coach Cline! I’m speechless! I’ll work so hard for this team- you don’t know what this means to me, to my school, I-” Paige gushed.
Rick just chuckled as he led her to a back room. Most of the time he let his picks go through training camp to see if they were worth keeping, and if they were, what method he should use and what he would expect from them. But what he’d seen on the tapes had shown him that she was proven as a basketball player, and he could use a solid first-round pick after years of trading his picks so he could move down in the draft and just go on looks. But that was only rationalization; the truth was that her legs in that short dress and those strappy sandals had him more than ready to welcome Paige to the team. With a smile, he readied himself and gestured that she and her agent should follow him into the conference room. Rookie scales made the negotiation of salary with Paige’s agent nothing more than a formality; the second contract that matched her salary and ensured that she wouldn’t have to go overseas wasn’t, but it was also one of the perks that Detroit was able to offer its players.
“You take such good care of your players! That’s amazing. I’m just- I’ve heard stories- I’m so honored!” Paige said, still beaming. Rick recognized that taking her now would not just be entertaining, but practical. With Paige already experiencing a head rush, the process would go more simply and smoothly, fitting into her mindset without causing too many questions.
“Thanks for your time, Ms. Scott, but if you’ll excuse us, we have to discuss strategy and where Paige fits into the team plans,” he said to the agent, and the agent took the hint and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, Rick sprung into action, hooking up his laptop to the projector and turning out the lights. From the way Paige’s eyes lit up, he knew this was going to be easy.
“Welcome to the Wheels, Paige,” he said in his coach’s voice, clicking off the main logo and onto a roster page. “I expect big things out of you this season and over the four years of your rookie contract. Most importantly, I expect you to fit into my system. As I’m sure you know, this team is about being a part of the system. No one piece is big enough to overwhelm another. Not Tracy Schue, not Tara Brendon, not even Chris Hill. What I want to hear from you is that you are a part of this team. And I mean fully a part of this team, with no reservations and nothing held back. Look around. There are no names here on this roster. Just faces, just parts of the team that’s won three W titles and put together an overall winning percentage of .600. This is a team every second from the moment your pen forms your name on the contract. On the court, in the community, off the court, everywhere, every second, the Wheels keep turning.”
He set the wheel in motion, adding effect. The pictures turned faster and faster, his pointer moving along, tracing the pictures as they rolled at blinding speed until the faces were a blur, then a streak of black, then replaced with a rapidly spinning Detroit Wheels logo. The spiral created with the pointer made the image that much more blinding, and Rick tried not to smile at Paige’s giddy grin as she sat there, her eyes fixed on the picture he was creating. He recognized that her trance was light, but stronger than most at that phase, thanks to her head rush beforehand. “Paige Dawson, are you ready to be a part of the system?” he asked. The question had been carefully honed over the years, ensuring that his players knew what he was asking, and that they were ready to begin giving it to him.
“Yes, I believe I can be part of this system,” Paige replied. Rick actually had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She was falling faster than most. She had no questions that would show resistance, no arrogance that would show he had made the wrong choice, no canned drone that showed her too weak to survive.
But it wasn’t enough. He had to take her deeper. He ran the wheel again. “I’m not looking for belief, Paige. I’m looking for commitment, for your commitment that the moment you step out of that door, you will be a member of the Detroit Wheels for every second after that. Every second, you’re a part of the team. That’s how we succeed, Paige. Not by being part of the team only when you’re in the game, or for the forty minutes of the game, or the three months of the season, but every second of every day of every month, you are a part of the team and a part of the system. That’s what I need from you, Paige, total commitment. Are you really ready to be a part of the system, Paige?”
“Yes, I need to be part of the system,” Paige said, her voice starting to flatten as she became lost in the spinning images and the well-honed pep talk designed to keep her attention on him and the screen. He readied his camera for the next phase, worrying that this was happening too fast. He’d seen it before, people who gave in completely just so they could let the control roll right off their backs. But Paige’s eyes were wide as she drank in the subprogram that worked on her arousal. Her legs parted slightly as she leaned in, wanting and needing to know more.
“Are you ready to become a selfless part of the system?” he asked, testing her depth.
“Yes,” she sighed, and it seemed like she was starting to have trouble forming words.
“Are you ready to give everything to this team for every second of every day?”
“Yes...”
“Are you ready to do anything that your team needs you to do, no matter what it is?”
“Yes...” she said without a pause, her voice becoming monotone. Rick re-ran the program one last time to study her reaction as she followed the faces spinning into one entity. As it picked up speed, sweat formed on her forhead and her crotch began to warm and moisten. Her eyes grew glassier by the moment, reflecting the light from the projector, and he could almost see the wheel spinning itself into her mind. If her smile wavered, it was only because her face was starting to relax, but that was fine.
“All right, then. Stand against the wall and I’ll begin making you a part of the system,” Rick said, keeping his stern coach’s voice. The slow mindless walk Paige took to stand against the wall gave Rick a bulge in his pants that made it difficult for him to get up, turn the lights back on, and take her picture. He managed it with the ease of long practice, then led Paige back to her chair and took a moment to scan her picture into the computer before clicking to the next page. The roster was back, but now Paige’s picture was among them, spinning at the same pace as her teammates, in no particular place in the order.
“You’re part of the system now, but you’re not fully integrated into it yet. I don’t know if you understand the full extent of it. The system is the Detroit Wheels and the Detroit Wheels are the system. The system runs the offense and the system runs the defense. The system is how you work in the gym and the system is how you sign autographs. The system works in games, and the system works in practice. We’re all part of the system- on the court, off the court, in the community, and in our private lives. We do everything by my system, and you are to do anything I tell you, because it’s part of the system. Can you be a member of this team and do that for me?”
He readied himself for resistance and wasn’t disappointed when he got it.. “Anything?” Paige asked.
The level was perfect. Too much and the system wouldn’t work; too little, and all he’d have was a pretty face and a first-round draft pick who wouldn’t be able to play. He ran the program again. “Anything. Let me spell it out for you to make it clear. That’s why we pay you year round instead of having you get worn out in Europe and returning to us half speed. It’s why I draft low instead of taking the big-ego stars, and why I look for the same looks and interests when I make personnel decisions. Everything is the system, and as you can see, you are now part of the system, and will be for at least the next three years. I can tell when someone doesn’t fit anymore, and I’ll let you go when you no longer fir the system. But for now, you are here, and I ask you again, are you a part of the system?”
By now Paige was sprawled in the chair, looking like she’d been poured there. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, and no power in the world other than Rick would have made her able to move them. “I am a part of your system,” she droned.
Rick changed the page and shed all pretenses. “A good member of this team does whatever and whoever she is told to do. She loves her city, she loves her fans, she loves her teammates, and she loves her coach. She is completely dedicated to the team and everyone around her- and they are all dedicated to her in turn. Are you a part of the team?”
“I need to be,” Paige moaned, her arousal growing, overpowering her so that she could move, if only to pull at her dress and try to soothe her need.
“Then let’s get started, Paige.” He opened his briefcase and took out a Wheels jersey with a randomly selected 30 on it, a pale blue blouse, khaki pants, and blue and yellow lingerie. He put them on the table, let the program go full blast, and waited in the corner- the true test would be to make her come to him, wanting and needing. “Everything,” he whispered as the pictures of the team spun on the screen: together on the court, then off it in clubs, building houses on 2 Mile, signing autographs with the same circular loops with their numbers in the middle, hanging out together, dressing together in whatever had been placed in their lockers, midnight practices with team-colored lingerie, serving their coach in every position imaginable. Paige reached up under her skirt and began teasing her wet panties as the slideshow turned ntno video of the stripteases as the team pleasured their coach. Rick’s heart skipped a beat when Paige giggled at Tanya opting for one of the assistants- it would have been fair if such beauty was wasted either on someone he couldn’t appreciate or someone too narrow-minded to appreciate Delia- but he was relieved when Paige’s panties slid off at one of Tracy’s patented blow jobs. One hand worked in and out of her slit, and he had to applaud her ingenuity in twisting the skirt of her dress into a makeshift dildo.
She rocked back and forth in the chair, grinding and moaning, and the natural loss of self-control took her over at orgasm. “I am a Detroit Wheel!” she screamed, and as she had been conditioned to do, she felt a surge of pleasure rocket through her as she said it. “I am a Detroit Wheel!” Flopping off the chair, she fell to all fours and her eyes fixed on Rick. “I am here to serve my coach,” she said, crawling to him in heat.
“Welcome to the team, Paige,” he replied, unzipping himself and donning his protection in one well-trained motion. Paige didn’t miss a beat and mounted him in seconds, covering his mouth with hers for what Rick teasingly called a fast break slam dunk. Years of experience had allowed him to figure out how to please a woman in the fastest possible time with the maximum results. When she came with a moan and a grind of her hips, he cleaned her up, then watched as she got right into her prescribed outfit while he zipped his pants and put his jacket back on.
“So nice of you to join us, Paige. We thought you were going to avoid the media. I see you’re already in uniform,” Rebecca said sarcastically.
“Well, yeah! This is a system team, after all, and that means I had to get started as soon as possible! I can’t wait! New house, new city, and wonderful teammates- you should understand about that, right? Wouldn’t you agree that’s great?” Paige chirped in her new uniform.
As Rebecca turned scarlet and escaped without going any further, Rick laughed so hard his stomach hurt. Paige had caught on quickly, and that was enough for him to know he’d picked correctly. He called Tracy to get Paige’s apartment ready, then called his second and third round picks to let them know that they’d been selected and start feeling them out to see if thye would fit with the team.
Paige couldn’t stop smiling from the moment she arrived in Detroit through her arrival at the practice facility, but her grin managed to broaden when she saw her game jersey in her locker with the other locks for the roster, as opposed to the black practice jerseys given to the training camp fodder looking for the last two spots on the bench. “Welcome aboard,” everyone said, and she knew what they weren’t saying in front of people who might not have been fully indoctrinated yet.
The high-pitched whistle brought her under as easily as it did her veteran teammates. Practice was poetry in motion: one team, one goal, pure trust, pure passion, running and gunning up and down the court with no fear and no thought of anyone interfering. The older players brought back for a second chance blended in, though not seamlessly, and even the rookies got some of it. By the end, it looked more like a ballet rehearsal than a basketball scrimmage. Paige’s drives to the lane and crisp passes on the backdoor cut fit in perfectly with the rest of the scheme. Two hours later, when the whistle blew again, she didn’t even feel tired. “We’re done?” she asked in confusion.
“We’re done,” Tracy confirmed. “Great job. You’ll make a great teammate.”
Paige wanted to melt at the team captain giving her such praise, but this was Detroit; things didn’t work that way in the system. Tracy was just as much a part of the team as she was, there to serve, there to be a part of the system and execute it to the letter.
And in exchange for that complete loyalty and selflessness, Rick was a great listener as well as a gentle controller. As much of what they ran came from the players to fit their strengths as it did from Rick to fit the system. Paige grinned as she joined the rest of the team to pick the last two for the roster. “Amber! We could use a backup at the three,” she suggested.
“You mean you like blondes as much as coach. I saw you staring at her ass,” Tracy said with a smile.
“Well, that helps. And hey, midnight practices are as much part of the system as basketball practice,” Paige pointed out.
“I like this kid,” Tanya said. “And she’s right on the basketball level too.”
Hours passed by, and Rick watched Amber squirming tiredly as she stared at the presentation. Enough of the program had held so that Rick was in no danger of being attacked or exposed, but a process this long was a strain on both coach and player.
In retrospect, he should have been less surprised. Amber Franklin was from Brooklyn, with all of the suspicion and sass that implied, and she had gone to Poughkeepsie, where the ever-questioning Jesuits did their part to make sure people didn’t follow mindlessly. He normally wouldn’t even waste a third-round draft pick on someone like her, where the effort it would take to make her a member of the team wasn’t worth what he would eventually get out of her- but the 24 on her stat line, the grace of her jump shot, and her long platinum hair had blinded not only him, but his team, to the trouble she’d be. He knew she should have been the first cut, shown the door before she could even get any hint of what the Detroit Wheels were about, but his players had insisted, and he was proud of his restraint in not overruling them. He wasn’t the kind of guy to rule with an iron watch. His players were his, but he was confident enough in that bond that he could let them have their say without fearing that he was losing them. It was what made him a winner, and his players winners- and more importantly, kept him from being like the creeps in Minnesota.
It was a testament to his skill and artistry that Amber had come as far as she had, if he did say so himself. She was still fighting, but she was halfway under, eyes fixed on the screen, mantra coming in at a slow but constant rate, and so flushed that the most innocent touch would send her swooning. “Amber, even as the last on the bench, you’re here to do everything the team’s way. Everything. You can ask Chris about that. We move from within. Do everything the team’s way, do everything within the system, you can move up faster than if you went to some other team as a free agent, and the team will be better off with you in the system instead of waiting for another draft pick or a free agent.” He waited to let the words try and sink in, then asked the question. “Are you ready to be a Detroit Wheel?
“Yeah, yeah,” Amber said, drifting into the slideshow one more time, trying to massage away her headache as she felt her sense of self fading with every blinding pattern. She knew that she had been hooked in by a controller. She was smart enough to recognize the signs, and New York enough that blinding lights couldn’t keep her all the way down. Her brain was screaming at her to get up and run while she still had half a chance to, but at the same time, it was also considering that she was being given an opportunity that hadn’t been there fore. She retreated a little bit, taking in the basketball mantras, the community service ethic, and even the obedience in practice, while using the last of her reserves to keep herself cool on the inside, lest she be taken advantage of.
Rick didn’t know the particulars of Amber’s struggle, but he recognized that Amber was surrendering enough to be useful to him. He relented, leaving the last piece of the puzzle for later. She would be a part of the system for everything except midnight practices; he would let her learn about that and take part later, learning on the job from her teammates. It wasn’t the first or last time he had encountered a strong resister, and deep down he knew that the more she resisted, the better she’d execute when she finally gave in. But he kept a stoic look on his face so she wouldn’t be able to read anything from him, though that didn’t seem likely with the way she was slumped over in her chair. As he went over to her, he heard her mumbling team concepts and strategies like they were the only things in her head. “Time to meet your team, Amber,” he said softly.
She blinked awake, eyes glassy and out of focus. She struggled to her feet, but that was all she could manage, and that wasn’t a sure thing. Barely upright and still swaying as everything buzzed in her head, she looked ready to fall back into the chair until Rick put his hands on her shoulders and straightened her up. Neither of them could miss the shiver that ran through her, but Amber’s strength was returning, and she avoided melting into him as they walked back out to rejoin the team.
The whole team knew Amber had struggled. Some secretly applauded, others shrugged it off as rookie ignorance, but no one said a word as she sauntered to her locker to claim her membership. Her eyes were still half-lidded from the conditioning, but her face was troubled. “Am I being brainwashed?” she asked sleepily, staring at her game jersey for the first time as a full-fledged Detroit Wheel, still blinking and trying to force thoughts through the thick fog over her brain.
“No, just learning how to fit the system. You’ll be just fine,” Tracy said reassuringly, running a hand over Amber’s shoulder as Amber got ready to take her jeans off to change. The shiver down her spine terrified and excited her at the same time, and she had to stifle a moan as she felt it running down to her pussy.
“Not everyone fits in right away,” Chris explained to Paige, both of them looking at Amber’s confusion after her first session with Rick.
“Rookie like me,” Paige said with a smile. “Amber, you look like you could use a hand, and here I am with two of them.” She went over to Amber and helped her out of her jeans. More than one of the veterans looked confused at the boldness, but Amber’s rapid blinking and deep breaths showed that the pleasure was overwhelming her, and Paige acted accordingly, laying a deep kiss on Amber’s open mouth. That fogged over Amber’s mind to the point where she put on her uniform without any hesitation before she joined the rest of the team. The Pandora’s box of arousal was ready to explode in Amber’s head, making her want to jump Paige that second. The fact that Paige was another woman didn’t matter. Being in front of their team didn’t matter. If anything, that only heightened her excitement- she was a part of this team, she would do anything to be a part of this team, and she loved her team in every sense of the word.
“Not now. Practice first,” Tracy said, and that redirected Amber’s attention to a different part of her programming, one that she had already accepted and welcomed. She shook herself into a state of readiness before tying back her hair and marching out with the team, fitting as smoothly into the routines as if she’d been born knowing them.
After practice, Rick went into his office and found Amber waiting for him, barely able to put her clothes back on. Her hair was in the exact same ponytail it had been in through practice, unkempt and sweat-soaked. She hadn’t bothered with a shirt, just her sports bra, and her jeans were unzipped. She was sitting in front of the screen, staring into it as if that would help her find the answers to the mysteries of the universe, waiting for the presentation to give her the release she needed. “Sorry, Coach. Paige explained it all to me. I’m ready to be a part of this team now,” she said, and she sounded awake, albeit aroused. She knew what was about to happen and wasn’t just accepting it but enjoying it.
He gave her an odd look, but this wasn’t the first time one of his players had helped coax a reluctant newcomer into giving in. “Paige? Really? I thought Tracy would have been the one to make you feel welcome.”
“Sure, she did, and so did the rest of the team, but Tracy’s your girl. Paige showed me what you meant by everything. Don’t worry, I’m no lez,” Amber replied, adding the last part with a wink that told Rick that she had accepted her fate and now relished it.
“All right, now, do you know what I mean by everything?” Rick asked, turning the presentation back on. Amber’s eyes glazed over before the wheel hit full speed, and she couldn’t answer with words- but the hand in her jeans and the moans that filled the room were enough of an answer for him. “Well, looks like Tracy will be able to retire after this year,” he said to himself, taking in Amber’s downfall with wide eyes.
That night, the text each of them received drew them back to the arena. After dark, traveling was dangerous in Detroit, but the blue and yellow of the Wheels served as a shield against some of the predators who didn’t want to tangle with other groups. The lockers were filled with blue teddies and matching high heels, and Paige and her teammates put them on without a thought, then headed onto the court for their real team photo. “Welcome, girls. You’ve all made the team. I know you understand the system. You’ll have to execute better than ever before. We have the Amys to deal with this year,” Rick said sternly.
The players hissed and muttered darkly as he brought up the Peaches. They might have been controlled, but they hadn’t been completely rewritten, and they knew what other evils were out there. That was part of what kept them loyal and gave them a purpose. Even Tanya looked at Rick with love in her eyes for his protection.
“That’s why we have the system,” he said again, and watched it sink into their minds like gospel truth, especially for the rookies. “Line up for the free throw drill.”
They knew what that was code for, and all of them, even Amber, got in line for the photo. Once that was taken, each one did a striptease with her own flair. Some used the basketball props, while others shed their pretenses before they shed their clothes. By the end, all eleven were on their knees, naked, smiling, and ready to win. Rick relaxed in his chair and let Tanya eat out Nneka to get him warmed up, then called over his two rookies for their initiation.
Tracy laughed and stood up with a sigh of relief, running a hand over each of her aching knees in turn as she waited for the right moment to tell the whole team to descend on their coach for the annual preseason orgy. She waited until Amber was about to come, then waltzed over with the rest of the team, all happy, all eager, and all ready for opening day. Eleven women, one coach, one team, and lots of sex: that was the Detroit Wheels’ recipe for a winning 2010 season.