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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Would She Become a Tennis Star or a Star Slave? From the author of the Number One Bestselling Erotic Ebook, The Hunting of Bambi, comes a new tale of captivity and confinement that sets the pulses hammering at the same time that it makes us look at the darker side of some very human impulses, Anna Pornallova, the Russian tennis player, was beautiful and talented, who had never quite lived up to her potential. But to one special admirer she was the ultimate victory cup, and he wanted for his very sex slave. When Jason, a professional slaver, abducts Anna, she is cruelly trained her for her new owner. Helpless to resist, is subjected to constant torment. But, will she emerge from the experience a stronger woman and become the tennis star she always should have been, or will she emerge a star slave? Rod Harden's "short stories weave a powerful erotic spell over the reader. Rod Harden brings to life the guilty pleasures that dwell with the dark recesses of the human psyche. Journey with him as he takes you away into a world of pleasure and pain, of domination and submission, treading always the fine line between darkness and light." Rod Harden's books are "the kind you read when you are all alone, convinced you will only take a peek, but soon finding yourself desiring more, hooked on the need of the characters, awakened to your own inner demons."--Michelle Houston, Sensual Romance Reviews. Cover: Mia Jennings
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler, 2005
eBookwise Release Date: April 2005

32 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [137 KB]
Words: 32363
Reading time: 92-129 min.

A large crowd of onlookers gathered around one of the practice courts at the National Tennis Center in Flushing, NY. The air was filled with the "thock ... thock" sound of rackets hitting balls, as players warmed up for their first round matches at the US Open. On this particular court, two of the top women players were practicing their ground strokes.

From a distance, the crowd was an indistinguishable sea of faces, turning back and forth in rhythm with the ball. But one of those faces did not turn with the rest. Instead it focused on just one player. The face belonged to a rather ordinary looking man in his thirties. He wasn't there for pleasure although, he was definitely enjoying himself. He wasn't there as a tennis fan, although he followed the game closely. He was there on business. And his business that day was on the court before him.

The man was known to his clients only as Jason. He was an obtainer of girls, a paid abductor, a professional slaver. His current assignment was in a higher league than he was used to, and frankly, he was a little nervous. But it was a nervousness mixed with excitement and anticipation. He watched his quarry intently, thinking how much he was going to enjoy this job.

While he watched Anna Pornallova continue her practice session, he imagined she was running, pivoting, dashing, just for his benefit. Yes, he thought, she is an amazingly beautiful girl. Beautiful and bratty and bitchy. He could understand why his client was willing to part with a substantial portion of his wealth, just to own this one girl.

Jason had sensed the client's total obsession with the tennis star immediately, and had been able to negotiate a six figure retainer that was higher than most full fees he got on his past jobs. The final remuneration for this one, payable upon delivery, was almost beyond his ability to grasp. But he knew he'd have no problem grasping the briefcase stuffed with cash when the time came.

He focused his attention on Anna again. His presence at the practice court was not really necessary for the job; he just liked watching her move. She wore her usual warm-up outfit of skin tight spandex shorts and exercise bra. Her long blonde hair fell almost to her waist in a familiar thick braid. That would come in handy later, he thought. And as long as he was there, he could take care of a little extra "something" he had planned.

When practice was over, Anna toweled off and ran happily over to sign autographs. Jason joined the crowd and waited until he found himself face to face with the young Russian tennis beauty. He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a miniature tennis ball. He'd found it in a novelty store shortly after taking on the assignment. The ball was white, like tennis balls used to be in the old days, covered with standard felt, but it was just shy of two inches in diameter rather than the regulation 2 to 2 and 5/8 inches. Handing it to her, he said, "It's for my daughter. Could you sign it, 'To a very special fan'?"

She looked quizzically at the ball, then shrugged, saying, "Sure. Why not?" As she struggled to write on the curved surface, Jason noted again the presence of her bodyguards off in the distance. She finished writing and handed the ball back to Jason with a smile. He thanked her and stepped out of the way of the next fan. Pausing, he examined the inscription. She'd written exactly what he'd asked for and had finished with "Love, Anna."

Perfect, he said to himself. This is going to be just perfect.

Jason made his way through the crowd and out of the tennis center. He briskly walked the mile and a half to the spot where he'd parked his van. Actually, "van" was what he called it, but it wasn't a mini-van or even a full sized van. It was an old UPS delivery truck. He'd repainted it and designed a logo for the sides that read "Smythe Co. Overnight Courier." Despite its size, it never seemed to be noticed, no matter where he left it.

He unlocked the driver's door, climbed inside, then opened the door to the rear compartment and, stepping up slightly, went into the back. It was a little smaller than it would be normally, due to the layer of sound insulation Jason had installed. The insulation covered all four walls, roof, and floor. Along one wall was a built-in bench with drawers. Along the opposite wall, wood posts and metal pipes were attached. The ceiling and floor were crisscrossed with metal bracings containing numerous eye bolts and pulleys.

Jason opened one of the drawers and tossed in the miniature tennis ball bearing Anna's signature. He wouldn't be needing it for a while. He began to assemble his materials for the evening. In a few moments he was ready. Now he just had to wait until the proper time.

He'd never attempted to procure merchandise as well-known and protected as the Russian tennis star, but he was convinced his plan would work because of its very boldness. Her bodyguards would be looking for obsessed fans trying to sneak their way to her, not for an open approach.

According to the information he had, Anna would not be out late that night. She had an early match the next day and would be in bed by 10:00. Luckily her boyfriend couldn't be in town for the first week of the tournament, so Jason didn't have to worry about him hanging around and getting in the way.

At last, it was time for action. He drove the van to the service entrance of the hotel and stepped confidently into the building, carrying a small package. It was late for a delivery, but no one gave him a second look. He double checked the hotel key card and security badge he'd obtained earlier with a few well placed bills. After locating the closest hotel phone, he dialed Anna's room number and waited for her to pick up.

"Hello?" She sounded a little groggy, as if she'd already been asleep.

"Miss Pornallova? This is hotel security. I don't want to alarm you, but we have a situation that has to be handled immediately."

"Wh-what's the problem?"

"We've just learned that someone managed to obtain the key code for your room, and we need to change the code to your door lock immediately." He wasn't even sure that was possible, but he figured Anna wouldn't know either. "Are you, um, alone right now, Miss?"

"Yes. I'm alone."

"All right then, listen carefully. We're going to change the code remotely right now, so your current key card won't work. I'll be right up with a new card for your room. In the meantime, be sure to stay in your room, and check that the deadbolt on your door is locked. Don't open the door for anyone unless they show you a security badge."

"Uh, okay ... Does it have to be right now?"

"Yes, it's best to be safe. I'm sorry for the trouble, miss."

Soon Jason stood outside her door, his badge ready. He set the package down and knocked lightly on the door. "Miss Pornallova? It's security. I just spoke with you on the phone." He flashed the badge in front of the peephole.

A few seconds passed before he heard the sound of the deadbolt being thrown and the door cracked open. She still had the chain latched. "Can you just slip me the new card? I really need to get back to sleep."

"Of course, miss. But first, I have to check to make sure it's working before I leave it with you. Close the door again, please." He slipped the key card into the slot and worked the door handle. Nothing happened, as he expected. "Slip me the card you have for a minute." He took the card from her and pressed it into the slot. The door opened. "Darn it! I'm sorry miss, but they apparently didn't get the code changed yet. Could I use your phone for minute?"

She hesitated, then opened the door. Jason picked up his package and walked into the room. He had to stay focused, but he allowed himself a passing glance, just a split second, to once again appreciate his lovely young prey. She had an ivory robe pulled loosely about her, but he could glimpse pale blue pajamas underneath. Her hair, no longer in the braid, fell freely past her shoulders. Even though she'd been roused from sleep, she looked incredible.

"Sorry about this disturbance. I'll just set this package inside the door if you don't mind. I'm delivering it as a favor for someone." He stepped over to the phone and pretended to notice something. "Miss, did you attach this to your phone?"

"What?"

"This small electronic device." His heart was racing furiously as she stepped over to see what he was pointing to. This was it, he told himself. Steady now.

He stepped back as she approached. The plastic bag in his pocket opened easily, as he got the chloroform-soaked cloth ready.

"I don't see any--" Her words were cut off as he pounced on her from behind. His left arm locked around her chest while he used his right hand to cover her face with the cloth. Her initial cry was immediately muffled by the cloth. She struggled frantically, twisting, grabbing at his arms, scratching, and kicking.

Her strength surprised him at first. He'd almost forgotten he was dealing with a well trained professional athlete. She almost broke his grip a couple of times, but his superior brute strength and the quick action of the chemical soon tamed the wild animal she'd become. Her arms finally fell limp to her sides. Her legs lost their ability to support her weight. He continued to hold her tightly for a minute until he was sure she was really out, then he gently laid her on the floor.

Jason stood over his victim breathing heavily. He remained still for several minutes, listening for activity in the adjoining rooms or in the hall. Nothing.

As his breathing and heartrate returned to normal, he proceeded to open the package. He pulled out the largest item, a straightjacket. As much as he liked to bind his victims with rope, he felt the straightjacket would be more secure for now. He knelt down next to Anna's prone form and pulled her up. He listened to her breathing and checked her pulse before slipping the robe off and working her arms into the long sleeves of the restrictive garment. In no time, her arms were pulled tightly across her chest and locked securely in place.

Next, he took a roll of duct tape and taped her legs together at the ankles and knees. Then he folded her legs up and taped her ankles to her thighs.

He hesitated a bit before wrapping the tape over her mouth and around her head. She could have a reaction to the chloroform which would make things a little messy, and possibly dangerous, but he had to hope she wouldn't. He didn't use any mouth stuffing. A few rounds with the tape over her mouth then from her chin to the top of her head would keep her mouth closed and minimize sounds as much as possible without provoking her gag reflex.

Finally, he pulled her knees up to her chest and bound them to her neck with rope. He stood over her and looked down at the tidy girl-package he'd made and smiled. Just one more hurdle and she'd be his to start training. He wiped clean all surfaces on the door and in the room. Then he pulled the last item from his package: a large, heavy duffel bag...