Domination, Submission and Tennis

Last night Molly and Mick went to a tennis tournament. Two women were whacking the be-jesus out of the little yellow ball. They were both Russian (though one has lived in the US since age 7, explaining her fluency in good old Amerikun expletives).

Both were impressive athletes, but with distinctive physiques: one (We’ll call her Maria), was tall (6’2”), willowy, blonde and impossibly slender, and cool as a cucumber. The Ice Queen.

The other (Anastasia) was 2 or 3 inches shorter, solidly built, brunet-ish, and seemed to sweat profusely, even during her warm-ups. In my mind she was a Soviet era hotel hall monitor in the making, less 20 years.

We were fortunate to have seats at court side, so it was easy to watch their well formed bodies contort and strain through their three set match, and to hear all the little to loud sounds they were generating.

The women’s game has progressed to the point where one assumes that these two impressive specimens could kick the asses of the stars of my younger days– Connors, Borg, McEnroe, Ashe, Laver. Or at least bring them to their knees.

But what’s with our inability not to see these athletes through the lens of our own kinky mind set.

What got to Molly and Mick were the sweet and sassy noises they made.

“Do you hear them Slave…..It’s like they’re having sex.”

Ahhh, yeah…..Very hot. M would get a kick out of this.”

Maria let out a thrilling high pitched shriek every time she served, or as she clobbered the ball for one of her powerful ground strokes. It was a derivative of the famous Jimmy Connors grunt, but with the carnal quality of a commanding woman on the verge of a climax she was taking at her whim, from whatever available cock that had come along for her ride.

She was a cool and controlling Dominatrix on the court, using her height and power to her advantage, toying with her opponent, slowly extracting the last bit of   energy from her, until she  finally had Anastasia at her complete mercy..

Her cries of ecstasy reminded me of the one Mistress makes when she rides my cock, as my hands are tied above my head to the bed, or when she takes me from behind with her strap-on. Ecstatic, triumphant, and very passionate.

On the other hand, Anastasia was the quiet one, usually hitting the ball with a silent, work-woman-like focus.She was in the match, but just barely, and only when she had complete focus. It was an uphill battle, and the hill kept getting steeper for her.

But there were occasional exceptions to her silence ……when a point got particularly challenging, when she had to race to the corner, stretch for a shot, or bend her knees particularly low for the leverage she needed to keep a ball alive….there was this little secret sound. …. A tiny, whimpering moan.

She was the Sub of this enterprise, reluctant to admit she had already surrendered to the taller, stronger, more powerful woman across the net from her.

Her sounds reminded me of the ones Mistress makes when M is on the phone, saying those secret things he says in the way he says them, and I am on my knees sucking her clit between my lips.

Anastasia was the woman who only reluctantly discloses how deeply immersed she is in the moment, until the throws of orgasm are cascading over her.

When the match ended – and you can guess who prevailed – both women headed to the locker room. It was hard for this Slave not to imagine a scene later that evening, with Anastasia on her knees before Maria, who’s legs would be spread, demanding acknowledgement of who was the Mistress and who was the servant.

Yes, folks, I do have a pervy imagination, don’t I?

And as for Mistress and me, it’s our switch day. I wonder if I can figure a way to get Mistress to make some of those Anastasia sounds for me.

She was one heck of a tennis player in her youth.