His Uprising

Chapter One Women’s Volleyball Match The camera panned the length of the court. On the near side, two rows of women bent forward. Their butts, in short shorts, wagged slightly. On the far side, two more rows of women stared through the net at their opponents. One in the back stood behind a white line, tossed a volleyball out in front of her, took two long strides, and leapt into the air. Her body formed a bow, as her feet moved forward. Her right fist struck the descending ball, firing a serve skimming over the net and toward the empty middle of the court. A player from the back row dove forward, landed on her knees, and got her fists—both squeezed together—under just before the ball hit the polished wood of the court. The ball popped into the air. Another player positioned herself underneath and struck the ball with the stiff, spaced apart fingers of both her hands. The ball rose, barely spinning. A third woman leapt from out of the camera’s sight and struck her fist into the ball at its peak, slamming it into the open court across the net. Two women dove and reached with fists for the ball but it landed between them. The women who won the point formed into a cluster and high-fived all around before circling and leaning in for a quick huddle. They put their arms around each other and—Alex’s favorite part—each rested her hands on the butts of the women on either side. Kimberly’s foot touched Alex’s cheek and turned his head, pointing his face up to hers. “Forgetting about something?” Alex reached for Kimberly’s foot and resumed massaging it. “I’m sorry, Kimberly.” “That’s okay. You’re not in trouble. How selfish would I have to be to punish you for a drop in attentiveness when your focus is on women’s athletics? Now if you were watching men playing a sporting game and dared to neglect my feet you’d be spanked, of course, but I actually find it cute how enraptured you are by the game.” “I’m especially fascinated knowing you played.” “I wasn’t tall enough, but I was a good digger. I could get on my knees faster than you even. Should we make the match interesting? If your team wins, because I saw you get excited when they just scored, I’ll f**k you, twice. If my team wins, you serve a week and take a punishment, a full punishment, paddling and caning—the works.” “But my team’s down a set.” “Is that how you’re going to be? For these women who are out on the court sweating and diving for balls, for your entertainment?” “No, Ma’am.” “Good. Then we’re on.” Kimberly touched her foot to Alex’s lips, and he kissed to seal the bet. Alex knew Kimberly didn’t design the bet to be unfair. She noticed Alex had taken a rooting interest in the trailing team. They lost the first set and were down in the second, but their effort level hadn’t dropped, maybe even was elevated. How could Alex not notice that and get behind them? Kimberly probably had the same instinct, to root for the team rallying to make a comeback, so she was generous to allow him to bet on the losing team. Alex had little trouble viewing it this way because he had little choice in the matter—after all, Kimberly hadn’t asked which of the two teams he’d like to risk his opportunity for orgasm on. Plus, Kimberly could have assigned him a week of chastity simply at her whim, so she was favoring him to permit him to play, through the volleyball match, for a chance at being granted s*x, not once but twice. Alex returned his attention to massaging Kimberly’s foot. Already, he expected to have to surrender a week of getting to come to the whim of the woman whose foot was in his hands, but he’d learned to transfer moments of disappointment like these to a heightened focus on the comfort of his mistress. The teams were well matched. One side would execute a nice set for a teammate to spike, but the other side would dig for a save, someone would set, and the ball would cross the net again in a spike. A shot had to be placed almost perfectly at an empty spot on the floor to be a winner. Neither team had room for error which made watching the action intense, even without anything riding on the outcome. Alex emitted squeaks of excitement or sighs of concern depending on whether his team spiked a winner or missed the line by a few inches. Either reaction made Kimberly giggle. She would reach with her foot and brush a toe along his c**k to remind him of the pleasure awaiting him if his team rallied back. They soon did. They tied the match a set apiece. The women in purple and gold, Alex’s team, looked poised and in control. Momentum and body language were on their side. As the game broke for commercial, they were all smiles and high-fives, while Kimberly’s team appeared dejected. Alex looked back, half expecting to find Kimberly forlorn at the way the match had turned. Instead she grinned and flashed her eyebrows up at him. She hit pause on the TV, jumped up, and left the room. Alex knelt, naked, on the floor, waiting. His c**k pointed up at the screen frozen on the women of his team in a hug from the last point they won. Their hands touched the butts of the ladies adjacent to them. Kimberly shuffled about in the bedroom. The closet door opened and she rummaged around inside. She would return and hit play and they would watch the match unfold, but Alex stared at the screen and imagined that right then, in real time, the ladies were playing their hardest, either moving ahead or falling behind, again, and at stake was whether he would be permitted to come or have to serve a week without an orgasm. The pain of a full punishment in place of Kimberly taking him, twice. Since Kimberly mentioned being a good digger, Alex had discovered a new favorite player. He had liked the tall blonde who had a great jump serve and seemed to be the player they aimed to put in position to spike whenever possible, but now the short, dark-haired woman who spent much of the game diving on the hard court, stopping spikes with her soft forearms, became the one he watched most closely. She still smiled after exchanging pats on the butt with the player on her right, but the frozen screen had captured her turning to her coach, a look of serious intent on its way to her face. The back of her hand was in mid-swipe across her sweaty forehead. In real time, the huddles had broken and the women on both sides had retaken the court. Would his team keep the momentum or would Kimberly’s team gather themselves? Alex’s c**k had dropped and lay between his thighs, saturated and with pre-c*m and suffering from its tip. All the skill and practice and effort of the young women on his team, would it be enough? Kimberly came down the hall. Alex was already looking up when her face appeared around the corner. Her hair was drawn back in a tight pony tail, the style of the players, the ones with long hair. She showed a sneaker around the corner, a calf clasped tight by a thin gym sock, and then a knee with a protective pad fastened around. As Alex gazed at this, mouth agape, his c**k steadily climbed back into the air. Kimberly jumped into the room. She wore short black shorts and a purple and gold jersey with the number five emblazoned on the front. Her outfit resembled so closely the ones the teams wore it was almost as if one of them leapt out of the TV and into the room. She leaned her paddle and cane against the coffee table. “We might need these”—She piled two condoms on the corner of the table, just in front of where Alex knelt—”or we might need these.” She climbed over him. Alex tipped his head back to watch her pass overhead and looked back at her. She picked up the remote and hit play. When Alex still stared back at her, she pointed at the screen. “Watch. You’ve got a lot riding on this game.” “Yes, Ma’am.” Alex’s team took the court with a confident swagger. The tall blonde with the jump serve ripped off five points in a row. A couple were service winners but most of them were returned, but the women from Alex’s team were a cohesive unit, one would dig the return, another would set, and a leaper would get off a well-placed spike. Kimberly’s sneakers rested on his naked thighs, and Alex rubbed her calves through her thin gym socks. Her knee pads brushed his ears. Alex looked back, showing Kimberly he was pleased to see his team doing well but not gloating. She smiled. She didn’t seem nearly as invested in who won. Alex supposed because she considered f*****g him, at the least, a good consolation prize. Alex started imagining her riding him with the adrenalin of recalling her days as an athlete spurring her on. He wondered if she’d f**k him with her kneepads still on. The game didn’t become one-sided. Kimberly’s team fought valiantly as well. Alex likely would have switched his allegiance, rooting for the new underdog to rally with a comeback, if so much wasn’t riding on the outcome. His team maintained control over the deciding set, but the match was still close. A subtle shift was occurring that even the players didn’t seem consciously aware of, yet Alex’s team was growing less vocal and expressive, less active, and Kimberly’s team seemed more confident. The score was suddenly tied. Alex looked back. Kimberly had the same look on her face. She was simply enjoying the match. Which team won didn’t seem to matter much to her. The teams traded points, but now they were past the necessary score to win the match. The next team to go ahead by two would be the winner. Alex’s team made a perfect set; the tall blonde rose and spiked the ball over the net. A woman from Kimberly’s team dove and, with one hand squeezed into a fist, saved the ball from striking the court. It ricocheted far off to the side, it appeared a sure point, but another player sprinted after it and hit the ball backwards in a high lob over the court. They weakly lobbed it over the net, giving Alex’s team another chance to set up for a winner, but something went wrong. One woman passed to a setter but the pass was slightly behind and the setter adjusting was thrown off just enough that her set went over the net instead of just in front of the net where the tall blonde crouched ready to win the point with a spike. Instead a player from Kimberly’s team leapt high and fired a spike down the line that even Alex’s favorite player, diving, couldn’t reach. Kimberly’s team gathered and gave a loud cheer before embracing in a circle. Kimberly emitted a soft hum, a sound expressing casual surprise. Her rough soles scraped Alex’s thighs. Kimberly’s team now served for the match. Alex had the irrational feeling that if he could lean forward, closer to the screen, he could will his team to win the next point. He felt like if he could beg them knelt forward to please win, it would happen, but Kimberly had him locked in place with her legs wrapped around his shoulders. The soles of her sneakers chafed his thighs as she casually shifted them, seeming as relaxed about the outcome as Alex was tense. A player from Kimberly’s team tossed the ball high, ran forward, and leapt. She spiked a serve to the middle of the court. Alex’s favorite player dove. The ball veered off her fist and into the legs of a teammate and rolled along the floor. The game was over. His team had lost. Alex stared at the screen dejected yet wondering, even as the final score flashed across the screen and the teams formed lines and slapped hands with each other, if maybe there were some way the game would continue and his team would still have a chance, if just a chance, to come out victorious. “Well, that was a good game.” Kimberly leaned over him, her soles scraping his thighs. She picked up the condoms. “We won’t be needing these, after all. Too bad.” “Kimberly, please,” Alex said in a whisper. “What was that?” “I didn’t even want to bet.”