Women's Tennis Hostel

Women's Tennis Hostel

By Longsmell

Part I

The weather was sweltering, the hot sun blazed down on the lush green grass of centre court. The stage was set for a perfect afternoon here at Wimbledon. The stands were packed and these fans were eagerly anticipating the women’s Quarter Final matches.

For the first time in the history of women’s tennis, matches from the Quarter Final onwards had been increased to five sets. This ensured that all eight competitors would leave the court having been thoroughly worked and exercised. The heat of the beaming sun was sure to have an effect on the perfectly slender bodies of these girls. Sweat would drip freely and pore from every orifice of their skin. But these girls were not objects, they were very domineering, strong and merciless women who wanted to take out their frustration at being out on the court for so long, on weak pathetic men. These weak pathetic men were hecklers who had been handpicked from a previous tournament at Eastbourne and abducted by the request of the eight women. There had been only two hecklers this week and they had been invited to a free sauna and health spa. Nobody suspected anything because the invite looked genuine, but once the two men were locked inside the spa, they wouldn’t be able to get back to the outside world and therefore help was out of their reach. This was a pre-calculated trap and once the two men were inside, they would realise there was no hope of escape. The health spa is generally open to the public, but these two particular men would be lured down a different corridor and down a secret flight of stairs to the underground health spa, which was custom made to suit the needs of sadistic WTA tennis women.

The WTA Tour had secret health spas situated in locations across the entire world and especially close to where the tournament was being played that particular week. Most of the women on the tour took full advantage of these facilities and would handpick the victims themselves whilst they were signing autographs. The women would always pick men from the crowd who looked single and had come to the match on their own, or maybe two or three men together. Very rarely they would pick a family man from the crowd and after his ordeal in the health spa, he was too afraid or shocked to ever say anything to his family.

There had only been one heckler at Eastbourne last week, he was constantly rude and continuously wolf whistling during the Sharapova and Hingis matches. The heckler was an English man called Paul and he had short black hair and looked in his mid twenties.

Paul was confident as well as arrogant and he would constantly voice his frustration during the course of the match from his position in the stand. Even when other members of the crowd told him to quieten down, he would continue to taunt the players to spur them on, unaware that it was just making matters worse. When a player he supported hit a great shot, he would wolf whistle really loudly and shout ‘c’mon’!!!

When the annoyed women came off court, they pointed him out to their bosses and they double-checked using video footage just to ensure they had targeted the correct person. Paul had now become the victim; he was sent a letter inviting him to the health spa on July 4th 2007. The letter was written informally and was no nice and welcoming. Paul had no reason to suspect anything suspicious; the letter also promised him a ticket to see a Semi Final match, but he would need to come to the health spa to collect his ticket. He couldn’t really say no, they were going to pamper him for a day before he would watch a top quality WTA match in the beautiful sunshine whilst eating strawberries and cream. Little did he know he would be eating strawberries and cream off a different platter.
Wimbledon Ladies Singles Quarter Final Matches

TUESDAY 4TH JULY 2007

Order of Play - Matches commencing from 12:00pm on Centre Court

MARTINA HINGIS (6) V (8) ELENA DEMENTIEVA
ANA IVANOVIC (14) V (1) MARIA SHARAPOVA
NICOLE VAIDISOVA (10) V (19) TATIANA GOLOVIN
DANIELA HANTUCHOVA (18) V (33) MARIA KIRILENKO
In the health spa

‘Hi, how can I help you sir?’ said the female receptionist sitting at the desk.

‘I have an invite here for the health spa,’ and Paul passed the letter to the receptionist. She examined it very carefully and smiled up at him.

‘So you must be Paul then,’ and she smiled again.

‘Today is your lucky day Paul... Wait here one second,’ the receptionist suddenly stood up and walked off leaving Paul standing at the desk.

Time passed and Paul decided to sit down in the reception area until the receptionist came back. He didn’t have to wait long, but the woman was not alone… she had company… two other women; both taller than her and wearing black stiletto high heels. It was only when he allowed his face to move upwards that he saw who the two ladies were.

‘WOW, Steffi Graf and Gabriela Sabatini are here.’ Paul was amazed and shocked at the same time.

The receptionist spoke, ‘Mr Smith, it is my pleasure to announce that both Steffi and Gabriela here wish to give you a guided tour of our health spa personally.’ ‘If you just follow them, they will be happy to answer any questions you may have and will show you where everything is and how you can win your free ticket for a semi final match.’

Stefanie Maria Graf was a former world number one female tennis champion, with twenty-two Grand Slam titles to her name. She was a tall girl, around 5”9, but her black stiletto heels propelled her to 6 foot. She was a tall and demanding figure and quite intimidating in person. She was wearing a white blouse with black blazer and a short black skirt with tights. The uniform made her look authoritarian especially with her German complexion. She had not lost her figure or looks since retiring from the court. Her blonde hair was still as long and thick as ever, but what I really noticed was that she barely smiled at me. It almost felt as if she was looking down on me, like I was a piece of dirt on the floor and I am not fit to even grace her company.

Gabriela Beatriz Sabatini was one of the leading women’s tennis stars on the circuit in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. She succeeded in winning the US Open title in 1990. She was very similar in height to Steffi Graf and her red high heels made her look 6 foot as well. She had a South American complexion. She would make a good porn star, and being from Argentina she looked very sultry and you could pass her as Italian. She was wearing a buttoned up shirt with a blue blazer. She didn’t seem as dominant in her uniform as Steffi, but she possessed a stare that was cold, which went right through me. Both women looked as though they didn’t want to even look in my direction, never mind showing me around a health spa. Still, I wasn’t going to turn down my chance of getting a free ticket for one of the semi final matches.

‘Follow us Mr Smith, this way,’ said Steffi in a strict German accent.

Gabriele said nothing, they weren’t very welcoming, but they turned around very quickly and I had to stand up and walk faster just to catch up to them. I was stood behind them as they both walked down the corridor, their high heels making a loud clicking against the wooden floor of the building. I was too scared to speak to the two women; I just waited for one of them to become friendly, but it was so silent walking down the corridor and there was hardly anybody else around. We seemed to walk forever, making so many turns I wouldn’t be able to get back to reception by myself, the air was becoming colder here and the scenery was changing ever so slowly, the walls were dusty here as we entered a corridor which looked uncompleted. There was even scaffolding scattered all around this area and work tools on the floor. The lighting was very dim and even the floor was full of dirt around here. It smelt very musky around here; there was a pungent odour in the air, a very stale smell. I could hear what sounded like a boiler whirring in the background, and as we walked a little longer I felt the air become warm, but the cold atmosphere still remained. We turned down another corridor and there were doors all over the place, but the walls and floor were so dingy, it felt like I was in some medieval torture dungeon or something, I could see spider webs growing all over the walls and bizarrely I saw what looked like a small mud trough and it stunk like cow shit, but I was never one to feel sick from driving past a farm, although the smell was quite unpleasant. All of a sudden, Gabriele opened a steel door, but strangely she needed to unlock the padlock with a key and push three large bolts across to open the door fully.

‘We’re here Mr Smith, this is the greatest health spa in the world, it might not look much, but I assure you this spa has been designed based upon years and years of research. We specialise in sensory deprivation to create a great sense of peace and tranquillity while you relax fully.’

Steffi interrupted, ‘we think that spas with two many people in are uncomfortable and they don’t allow you to relax in peace. Here it is warm, peaceful, and you will love it so much, just wait until you get inside and see it for yourself.’

Gabriela finally unbolted the door and slowly pushed it open and invited me in first. I walked in and looked around the room, it was so small and cramped! But what hit me the most was the smell inside; it was very stale and overpowering. From the door, there was a small slanted path downwards into the heart of the room. The room itself was tiny with no windows, just four small walls and a ceiling. It seemed airtight, the only air, which seeped in and out, was through the main door and that was also made from steel. The lights were dimmed, so I couldn’t really make out what the contraptions were in the room. One looked like a table of some sorts, there were casket type contraptions. There was an exercise bike and ropes and hanging down from the ceiling. I was fascinated by now and walked down to the centre of the room. Suddenly I could see a line of hangers with clothes on, there were socks scattered all over the floor and I could see lines upon lines of high heels, sandals and trainers. I guessed this is where the smell was coming from; it was strong and very sweaty.

The clothes and footwear looked old and worn, why hadn’t somebody moved them? This wasn’t a good thing to have in a special health spa. It didn’t seem very appetising at all; in fact I had my doubts as soon as the corridors began to get dark, weird and smelly.

‘I’m sorry girls, but I’m gonna have to turn this down, its just not what I expected.’

‘Really? Said Steffi. Well… we don’t like men like you… especially when you insult our facilities.’

‘It stinks in here, how can anyone relax in surroundings like these? ‘This room looks like a dungeon, not a fuckin’ health spa and I’m insulted that you would even make me walk all this way to this shithole of a room, which by the way stinks like hell… Paul didn’t finish what he was saying as he felt a high heel kick him viciously in the balls and he fell to the floor in agonising pain.

‘CRACK… Steffi booted him again in his privates and Gabriele followed up by stamping her heel down on his nether regions.

Paul was curled up in a ball on the floor writhing in pain. He tried to crawl slowly towards the ramp up to the exit door, but each time he did, Steffi and Gabriele would kick him harder in his balls and he would stop dead in his tracks.

‘Listen Paul, it was never your lucky day.’ ‘You’ve been chosen because you think you can treat women like shit, but we’re different because we like to treat men like shit and you’ll soon become a boy when you find you cant stop what is happening to you.’ ‘You are going to spend at least the next month in this prison, it will become your hell, your only visits will be from powerful superior women who are also aware that you are a little shit, and they are not here for your fun or pleasure, they are here to torture you.’ ‘Screaming in here wont do you any good, this room is soundproof, and there are no windows, no open doors, no freedom, no fresh air and certainly no escape.’ ‘You will soon learn how these contraptions work, and especially how they are designed to keep you immobilised whilst our women use you in any shape or form.’ ‘We have kept this room in a state designed to create the maximum effect of torture, we don’t specialise in blood or what you would call general torture.’ ‘We specialise in foot torture and that could be in a mental or physical sense, you will grow to despise it and feel revoltingly sick, but it is the only smell we will allow you to wallow in, you will be kept in situations where you can do nothing physically at all, you will be paralysed and all of these situations will be slow and torturous, we have done years and years of research to know how to apply this torture properly.’ ‘I’ll give you one example of how torturous this is gonna be for you, but first.’

‘Crack… Steffi kicked Paul in the crotch again to keep him down.

‘You see Paul, this contraption here is called the ‘sweatbox’, Gabriela walked over to the contraption and opened it, the lid swung open. The sweatbox was shaped like a coffin. ‘Look inside the coffin, it is half-filled with water, but it is not just ordinary water.’ ‘Our women like to put their feet in small tubs filled with water to rest and clean their feet, most of them like to keep their feet relaxed for at least a couple of hours, but by then, the water has become dirty and sweaty.’ ‘Instead of wasting this water, we like to take the small tub filled with the dirty sweaty water and pour it into sweatbox and continue doing this until the sweatbox is half full.’ ‘There is an heater built into the sweatbox which makes the sweaty dirty water become slightly warm.’ ‘Once the water is slightly warm, we lie our victims inside the sweatbox and close the lid to trap all the smell inside.’ ‘Our women will then lie on these specially positioned seats and put their feet through holes in the side of the coffin and punish you in a horrible way, most of them like to splash the water all over your body or face and some of our women like to soak their feet in the murky water and then make you drink it, or rub it all over your face.’ ‘Don’t worry you wont have a choice in the matter, we have gags designed to keep your mouth open.’

‘Gabriela walked over to Paul and stood astride his pathetic body crawling on the floor. Paul was crawling on his stomach, and he tried to inch his way to his knees. Gabriela positioned herself dominantly behind him anticipating him trying to stand up and as he did, she ran forwards and with all her anger and strength transferred to her high heel, she booted him extremely hard in his testicles from behind and he fell back down flat on his stomach in agony. Gabriela jumped down and straddled Paul’s back; she quickly grabbed both of his wrists and handcuffed them together. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just see the arched figure of a high heel positioned dominantly in front of him, it belonged to Steffi.

‘Tut tut tut… you are not goin’ anywhere boy.’ Steffi lifted the sole of her heel onto Paul’s face and that is when he struggled, but it was no use, he was handcuffed and everything below the waist felt like jelly. The sole of the woman’s foot smelt sweet, but strong. Paul felt an ecstasy of pain and the heavy odour of chloroform. He was being rendered unconscious by a woman’s high heel and he was completely powerless to stop it even though she was only applying gentle pressure. Steffi was asserting her power and control already, but this was only the beginning.

The room was abandoned, lonely and haunting. It had probably been used for eleven months at the most. Most of all it stunk, but it had been purposely kept in this way, so that the smells inside would become old yet not disappear completely. Even the walls and ceiling had been purposely made smooth, so that the sweat would condensate and drip down the walls. The sweat would eventually dry up on these walls and create a permanent stench in this room as long as the main door was bolted shut always, except for when someone was coming in or out. The room was compact which made a great tool to keep the sweat trapped in here. It was the ultimate torture chamber, virtually everything in here had been contaminated with sweat at some point, and it made everything grimy and slick coated. The girl’s socks that scattered the floor were still damp and tattered. The temperature in here was warm and not too hot. A room that is too hot can create false sweat, which makes it impossible to taste or smell original sweat odours. If a woman had built up sweat on the tennis court, it was this sweat that she wanted her victim to endure. She didn’t want the room heat to mask the original smell; too much sweat can overpower the nose and make the feet too slick.

Steffi and Gabriela had had fun kicking him in his groin; they took pleasure from knowing a man’s Achilles Heel by using their heels. They got so much pleasure from rendering this man to a pathetic mess on the floor. Once they had knocked him unconscious, they pulled him over to the sweatbox contraption and began to strip him of his clothes. Gabriela started to unbutton his blue Armani shirt all the way down until it was completely unbuttoned and he was wearing nothing underneath. He had a fairly smooth chest with not a lot of body hair. Steffi was pulling his Rockport boots off his feet, they wouldn’t come off at first, so she had to unlace them, she followed this up by gently pulling off both of his socks.

The man’s clothes were dumped into a small white carrier bag.

‘We’ll burn these clothes later, ok now… lets get his fuckin’ pants off.’

Paul was wearing jeans with a brown belt, but Gabriela was an expert and she swiftly unbuckled the belt and unbuttoned the jeans. She pulled the zip down and Steffi began to pull the jeans from the bottom until they slowly began to ease off. They both took pleasure in stripping down a man whilst he was unconscious as there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Let’s see his small willy,’ mocked Steffi.

Gabriela undid the buttons of his boxer shorts with a couple of her fingers and using her thumb and forefinger, pulled his flaccid penis out through the hole. It always gave her pleasure to handle a cock with two fingers as it degraded the man more and made her feel even more superior. After enjoying this moment for a few seconds, she pulled the boxers down to the man’s ankles and Steffi removed them completely. The jeans and boxers were stuffed into the white carrier bag and Steffi sealed it at the top.

Part II

Gabriela undid the buttons of his boxer shorts with a couple of her fingers and using her thumb and forefinger, pulled his flaccid penis out through the hole. It always gave her pleasure to handle a cock with two fingers as it degraded the man more and made her feel even more superior. After enjoying this moment for a few seconds, she pulled the boxers down to the man’s ankles and Steffi removed them completely. The jeans and boxers were stuffed into the white carrier bag and Steffi sealed it at the top.

'I don't trust him, even as helpless as he looks right now.'

'What do you suggest Gabriella?'

'These.'

Gabriella pulled out a pair of Professional Police Hinged Handcuffs, which she had kept hidden and slid down the back of her tight pants.

'These handcuffs are more secure Steffi, you see this hinge design here restricts wrist movement much better than with ordinary handcuffs.'

'I like your methodical thinking Gabs, with you around, there is no way this young man is leaving this room unless its on our terms.'

'And our terms suggest he is not leaving this room. Period.'

'You know the human body contains 90% water Gabs?

'Yeah, but by the time he leaves here, his body is going to contain 90% pure woman's foot sweat, even if we have to put him on a drip containing bags of our sweat.'

'Maybe we will put funnels into his throat and force-feed him, we have all the time in the world to experiment on him and make sure it is a long slow painful process.'

'Well I'm going to make him eat a sock, of course I'm going to tear it beforehand into small digestable pieces for him to enjoy for his lunch here.'

'For his dessert, I think maybe he will eat the toenail sandwich. Of course he will have the usual objections, I'm not eating that, that's disgusting you fucking evil bitch... but we both know that in the end HE WILL be eating that toenail sandwich.' 'We will use the finest bread only, soaked in foot juice water first.'

'How will be able to resist those crispy toenails?'

'I have a feeling he will try to resist, but what happens when resistance is impossible, and there is nothing, and I MEAN nothing he can do physically or mentally to stop it happening.'

'Well when he realises his resistance is failing, he will enter the next stage, which is acceptance.'

'Acceptance is something which our WTA girls will demand anyway, they wont think twice. I mean who is going to argue with Nicole Vaidisova when she walks in and she wants to give him a full-weight trample? She's a big strong girl and he is simply going to just collapse or cave in when she starts slapping him around like a rag doll.'

'Yeah, then there's Maria Sharapova, she has incredibly pungent foot smells, she is likely to be using his face as a spittoon whilst she absolutely smothers his face with her feet, and she is known to dominate this way for hours and hours and hours.'