The Cup Final

Mark lapped at her hole knowing that this time it was in full view of everyone, not hidden between their cheeks. This time the comments weren't hidden from his ears, they locked deep in his memory.

When he was finally released from Katy Robinson's muscular arse was the realization that she was the final girl. The last of his humiliation, that was until the dawning comprehension that his own team had been present throughout his moment of shame. They stood staring and laughing at the once feared figure being made to clean the arses of the opposition team.

Cara strode towards him and dropped her tracksuit bottom, "don't think your finished bitch, one more for you." She bent over and pointed to her arse, "taste a winners arse bitch." As she felt his hot tongue lap at her hole she groaned, "that's your position now Mark, licking the hole of the woman who beat you." She held his face deep in her arse as she backed up hard against him, "not fucking smiling now are you bitch."

The cheers grew in the room from both teams, they all knew his derogative view of women and this seemed more than fitting having lost to one. Cara ground her arse violently against his face, when she released him he fell back onto his backside.

Helplessly he looked around him, a roomful of mocking disrespectful tarts. His face was red with anger and wet with spit and pussy juice, he barged past his own giggling players and frantically tried to open the door.

"Looking for this," Cara twirled the key in front of him. Cooly she opened the door, "I don't want to see your face ever again round here, understand." She prodded his face, "if I do, this day will be told to everybody and we have a lot of witnesses."

Mark nodded helplessly, his eyes filled with tears, "yes yes just please let me go."

As Cara teased open the door Mark flew from the scene, the quickest anyone had ever seen him move. The laughter that erupted behind him only added to his utter degradation.

"Maybe you should have told him that we filmed it too," Angela twirled the camera towards Cara.

"On no, we'll keep that for the Christmas party," Cara beamed towards the cheering room.

Mark sprinted to his changing room and vomited into the toilet repeatedly, downing a bottle of mouthwash to clean away the taste of ass from his mouth. Vigorously washing his face to expunge the shame and throwing his things into a wash bag for a quick escape. His next moves already flashing in his mind, men's football or go abroad, anywhere this shame could not follow. As he came to leave his exit was blocked by the imposing figure of Detective Karen Watts.

"I'm pretty sure I said we'd have a conversation once you were finished," she leaned towards him conversationally. "Unless you're going back for more."

Mark dropped his bag loudly to the floor in frustration, "look I've done all you asked, it's over."

Karen smirked, "with the team, it's over but the proprietor of the team is very angry and she's the one with the connections." Coming closer to him, "she's the reason you haven't been arrested as yet, so I think you should say sorry to her, don't you?"

Mark nodded in defeat and forlornly picked up his things and followed the detective out to her car, would this day of defeat never end.

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As they weaved throughout the quiet suburban streets Mark sat perplexed, he'd met many club owners but never anywhere like this. When they stopped outside a smart detached house with a perfectly manicured garden he expected to meet a kindly old spinster tottering around the house. Instead, the door was opened by a large burly looking man who glared towards him.

"He's here to see the mistress of the house," Karen gave him a push into the doorway and they followed the large muscled back of the servant. The house was immaculately clean, the wooden floors polished and their footsteps echoed as they climbed the stairs, stopping only at a large wooden door marked Study. At the knock, Mark jumped at the loud retort of 'enter.'

The vision before him was the last thing he expected, tall, beautiful, and much younger than he imagined. Her long red hair cascaded down her ivory skin and a sharp red smile beckoned him in. But it was her hypnotic green eyes that cast a spell on him, locking into his eyes never blinking.

Her chair was deliberately higher than his so he always had to look up to her and she looked down on him. "Ahh so your Mark, I do hope you've recovered from the girls. I know how rowdy they can be."

Mark attempted to answer, to object to his treatment but she cut him short before he got a word out.

"Now we both know there a lot of stories out there about us, some false but most of them absolutely true." She smirked as she saw him squirm from the remark, "now you investigated ours and we did yours but unfortunately for you, you didn't believe ours but we totally believed yours."

Detective Karen Watts slapped a thick file onto the desk with his name written across, "thank you, Karen, this is every complaint, allegation, and just about every rumor about you we could find." Tapping the file, "we interviewed everyone we could and got so many fabulous stories and compiled a fascinating character study of you."

Leaning forward, the smile dropped to a stern stare. "The outcome was we knew what a deeply unpleasant and untrustworthy man you are and we immediately took steps just in case." Reaching out one leather-gloved finger she clicked upon switch and the room filled with the sound of a conversation.

It took a second for Mark to realize one voice was his and the other belonged to the referee, his mouth dropped open as knew he'd been caught in a trap. Every word was another nail in his coffin, the whole deal was recorded and his sordid plan out in the open.

His growing despair was ended with a click, "now unfortunately you've gotten away with your more serious allegations but not this one. This time you messed with the wrong women and I require serious reparation to not press charges."

As she leaned back cooling observing him, the silence was deafening. His heart thumped through his chest and he was sure it could be heard by all. The quiet was broken by the servant bringing in tea, one china teacup pushed in front of him.

She took a sip and looked blissfully back to him, "Now I'm sure your wondering as to what payback I would demand so let me get straight to the point." She rose, looking instantly more commanding before him. "I'm going to fuck you over this desk, nothing more nothing less."

The words hit Mark like a slap and he finally drew the fight to shout. "No fucking way. never going to happen," slamming his fist down on the desk in bottled-up anger.

All it brought was the condescending smirk back to her face, "and I thought you were intelligent at least." Another pause to sip her tea, "you'd rather ruin your name and reputation and spend time in jail than spend an hour in private shame."

"No woman's raping me," the blood rushing to his face as he screamed.

"Silly boy," her voice turning seductive and lighter. "I don't rape I fuck, you'd be surprised how many men enjoy it." She flashed her deep gaze upon him, "the only people who will ever know it even happened would be me and you."

She stood and gracefully strode towards him, her skin-tight skirt wrapped tightly around her perfect curves. "I'll leave you alone to make your decision, cause it is only yours to make." The teasing smile had returned, "one hour with me or jail and the end of the career."

Karen opened the door and Miss Danvers swished to the doorway, red hair flowing behind her. "If you make the intelligent decision, that tea before you contains an enema, and through there is a toilet. Inside you'll find a douche kit, if you don't know how to use one I'm sure Karen can assist."

Karen glared back at him to confirm she would much rather he did this himself.

Mark stared dumbstruck at the magnificent object of desire who controlled every instant of their meeting and his brain whirled from the opposing arguments taking place within.

"Well, I'll be back in half an hour and I do hope that cup will be empty and we can end this messy business between us amicably." She tapped Karen on the shoulder, "otherwise you'll have to take another journey with Detective Watts, your decision."

With that they left him to the silence of the room, the distant sound of her high heels clicking away on the wooden floor. Mark stared at the cup and tried to take some deep breaths to regain control. His eyes darted about the wooden paneled study, the thick red rug under him. The battle for his decision was fought within his mind, the pros and cons of each negated the other.

But one started to gain the advantage, he had already been humiliated today in front of many women and this would be in secret. It would be shameful and he would never live it down if it was known but it wouldn't be known. Bite down on the disgrace and he could move on with his life, wiping it from his memory forever. Before he could argue against it he downed the bitter-tasting tea and walked to the toilet to await the result.

It didn't long for the tea to act, between it and his nerves his bowels were soon emptied. The douche took him a while to work out and uncomfortable as he found it he managed to clean himself out. When he returned to the study he was faced by the grinning Detective.

"Glad you came to the correct decision, too many wasters in jail already," she almost seemed jolly. "Now strip, get those clothes off now."

Mark nervously undid his tie and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt as she watched him with growing annoyance.

"Oh come on, we don't have all day," Karen slammed the desk to get him moving. "It's nothing i haven't seen before and certainly not the biggest."

When his underpants slipped to the floor, Mark covered his crotch with his hands and stood red-faced and helpless.

"Now place your hands on the desk and push out that bottom," Karen stepped behind him and placed a lubed gloved finger in his anus. "Don't wriggle, I'm just going to slip this in here." She felt his body tremble as she pressed the small buttplug into him, "hold this in, it will easier for you later. I wouldn't bother but she likes to look after you boys." She gave him a swift slap on the rump and left him.

As his hole got used to the intrusion, he held his naked stance alone in the room. Every small sound made him jump and he constantly scanned the door for the red-haired woman. The sweat cooled on his naked body and he almost started to relax till he heard the turn of the door handle.

When the woman returned he could only gawk at her new appearance. She marched into the room, changed into a skin-tight red leather catsuit. Her red hair had been pulled back tightly into a ponytail and her demeanor was pure dominance. But the most prominent change was the large red strapon cock that bounced as she moved.

She produced four hard sharp spanks that produced the required whimpers from him, "Put your hands on the desk." As he laid his hands flat she tied the wrists to the desk with a leather strap, "so you don't lose your balance."

"Bend that arse out," another hard spank made Mark bent forward to appease her. "We won't need this anymore," and she delicately removed the plug from his loosened hole.

As he felt the cold lube being poured and spread over his twitching hole he knew his time had come. He gritted his teeth and grew determined to endure this objectional suffering. The large cock head slid along his crack as she teased his now tingling hole, pressing it gently at the opening

With a thrust, she popped deep into him and the cherry loudly popped, his cry and the followed obscenities rang around the room. She gently held him deep on the cock then teased him back off and forcibly back in. The girls were rough and powerful but Miss Danvers was an expert, like she said she fucked her man. She drew pleasure from making her prey involuntarily moan, each noise they produced she knew they hated her to hear.

Mark was lost in a fog, his emotions swelled inside him, and fought with his instincts. The idea of being fucked in the arse by a woman appalled him to his core but she was drawing out feelings he had never felt. Each deep thrust she made seemed to hit a spot that forced a noise from his lips he had never made before and she toyed with his cock to the point of an explosion but always stopped just before.

She gripped his cock tightly in her lubed gloved hand, "who's my little bitch boy now." She whispered erotically in his ear, "tell me how much you love my cock and I might let you cum."

Mark fought to say nothing but the sensation of her hitting this spot and his aching cock made him scream, "I love your cock Miss Danvers, please let me cum."

But at this outcry, she stopped and removed her cock abruptly from his gaping hole. His hard cock swung dripping under him and he craned his neck to look for an answer.

What he saw was the feet of four women watching his ordeal, straining upwards he looked into the faces of the woman who had brought accusations against him. Each also wore large red strap ons and looked very pleased with the performance.

Miss Danvers brought her face to his, "I thought if you were genuinely sorry to me and gave me a satisfactory response then you should be willing to offer the same apology to these women. Who do have a much more reasonable objection to you, don't you think?"

The first woman stepped forward alongside Miss Danvers, "you remember Sue don't you? You forced her to suck your cock to get in the team then forced her out."

Mark could barely lift his head in his position but helplessly peered up at Sue, "Yes I really am sorry for my treatment of you."

A sharp slap from Miss Danvers stopped the apology, "no she deserves the same apology I got, beg her to fuck you."

His head dropped as he tearfully cried, "please Sue fuck me with your cock."

For the first time, she could remember Sue's face burst into a smile and she leaped behind the man who ruined her life and made true the vow to get revenge on him. This was a million miles away from the expertise of Miss Danvers, this was the rough fucking he deserved and the other girls encouraged her loudly

Previously his mind had been in a quandary on how he was actually enjoying the overpowering sensation of being used but this was long gone. Each hard thrust hurt and she powered relentlessly away, taking every day of misery out on his arse.

By the last girl, he was a demoralized beaten husk of a man, his abused red arse throbbed over the desk. Each girl mocked the pathetic man beneath them, spat on and spanked him cruelly.

As the girls elatedly left the room showering Miss Danvers in praise Mark bowed his head and sobbed, wishing he had chosen jail. How had he ever trusted a woman, what a fool he had been. His head cleared when he heard the now memorized footsteps of the red-haired mistress coming towards him. "Please let me go, I can't take any more."

As she eased her cock slowly back into him with a loud groan, "silly boy, I haven't finished." The pain seemed to ease with her and once again the witch cast her spell on him and produced the embarrassing moans from his mouth. Her hand teased his limp shriveled cock back to life and with each move of her hips, his cock grew.

As her speed increased his helpless cries filled the room, "who's bitch are you boy." She dug her nails deep into his back as she demanded an answer.

The words flew from his throat in an instant, "your bitch Miss Danvers." With his answer, she finally relented and released her grip on his shooting cock. The intense feeling of his aching cock exploding all over the floor as his arse gripped down hard on her thick cock made his whole body shudder.

As Mark collapsed against the desktop, Miss Danvers scrutinized her latest victory and another enjoyable day in the office. She undid his wrist straps and slapped his bright red bottom, "You know your not such a useless man, we might even be able to make something of you after all."

Mark dropped to the floor and struggled to grab his clothes, then peered up at the tall staggeringly impressive mistress who smirked down upon him.

"One more little decision for you," she stood with both legs astride over him. "If you want to forget this ever happened, then there's the door go and never come back." She grabbed his tear-streaked face, "or be here at three tomorrow to change your life."

The poor broken man sat gazing at her swishing red ponytail as she left the room and dressed shaking vowing never to set foot in this hell hole again. By the garden, he was writing down the number and the street.