Jane. Captain of the Wildcats

The team that has just been crushed by Christina's team. She stands there in her red-and-gold tracksuit, her high cheekbones flushed from the exertion, her dark hair tied back in a severe ponytail. She is breathtaking. And she is looking directly at you. At your naked, aching body, still pressed against Elli, at your softening, but condom-covered cock, protruding from the smeared connection.

Her gaze – first confused, then shocked, then ice-cold – cuts through you like a scalpel.

Christina reacts first. A wide, wolfish grin spreads across her face. She positions herself between Jane and the scene, but in a way that leaves Jane's view clear.

"Jane. Punctual as always," Christina says, and her voice has that sweet, dangerous undertone you know well. "I assume you've come to pay the penalty for your defeat? The bet stands."

Jane's jaw tightens. Her eyes dart from Christina to you, to the other girls who are now sitting up, as if a new kind of prey has just entered through the door. You see her Adam's apple bob as she swallows.

"This…," she begins, her voice rough and full of disgust.

"…is part of the package," Christina finishes her sentence. She steps aside and gestures theatrically toward you. "Our trophy here has just done his duty. But he hasn't been… disposed of yet. That will be your first task."

Jane freezes. "Christina, that's sick. I'm not doing something like that."

"The bet was clear," Christina hisses back. She suddenly seems a head taller. "Whoever loses faces the winner's consequence. All or nothing. Or should I let the whole league know that Jane Henderson isn't just an inferior captain, but also a coward and a welcher?"

The threat hangs in the air. Jane's complexion shifts from red to pale white. Her proud gaze breaks. She looks at you, and in her eyes you see nothing but a helpless, deep horror. You should feel pity. But instead, damn it, you feel a tiny spark ignite again in your exhausted cock. The thought of this proud, flawless Jane being **** to do this… it's a shock of pure, dirty fire.

Silently, like a sleepwalker, Jane steps forward. She kneels beside the bench, her face level with your shameful connection to Elli.

Her hands – with perfectly manicured nails – hesitate, then tremble. They enclose the condom at its base, where it hugs your shaft. Her touch is ice-cold. You flinch, but Christina's hand immediately lands again, warning and firm, on your sore bottom.

"Keep going," Christina commands quietly.

Jane closes her eyes. Then she pulls. A slick sound accompanies the unrolling of the rubber from your sensitive flesh. When it's free, she holds the dripping, white-filled condom between her thumb and forefinger, as if it were a dead spider.

"And now," Christina whispers. "Swallow it. Every drop. Think about your defeat while you do it."

A strangled gag rises in Jane's throat. Tears of humiliation gather on her eyelashes. She parts her lips, just a tiny slit. With a motion, she brings the opening of the condom to her mouth and squeezes it out. Her face contorts as the consistency and the foreign taste hit her palate. She gags, swallows convulsively, gags again. A white drop escapes her lip and crawls down her chin.

An orgy of emotions breaks loose inside you. Disgust. Pity. And such a brutal, obscene arousal that your cock, completely independent of your will, awakens again to stiff, throbbing hardness. She sees it. Her tear-veiled eyes widen as she beholds your re-erected, naked erection, now hovering directly in front of her face.

Christina laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Look at that. The trophy still has an appetite. And you, Jane? Are you ready for the next round?"

Jane wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her gaze is now empty, broken.