Tennis anyone? -------------- © Dikke Kannibaal, june 2002 dikke_kannibaal@hotmail.com This text may be redistributed in electronic form (not printed form!) as long as its distribution is completely free and the full text (including © mark and e-mail address) remains unaltered. This also means that access to this text may not by guarded by a password system requiring money to be paid. It was one of those really hot summer days. Willy, his wife Rosy, and their friends Patrick and Tenessa were sitting in the shadow of a little bungalow, looking at the desert private tennis court. They had been playing a mixed double, but the severe heat had cut short of their sportive ambition. The tennis rackets were laying idly on a table, and Willy's private butler was serving some drinks. Tenessa wondered how the butler could look unaffected by the boiling temperature : he even wasn't sweating. Of course, he was not wearing that much. Willy was very adamant of it. All of his slaves were kept mostly naked, and were only adorned with chains and rings through their nipples and penises. This one was a nice body : muscular, no fat at all, a well-developed dick. Willy kept his slaves well- trained. Even in this hot weather, their training program included hours of muscular activity. The gold-coloured rings and chains made soft jingling noises as the slave moved. After having served the drinks he disappeared again. On the tennis court another slave was cleaning away the few traces left by the broken-off match. Not much was said, and the summerly silence of the huge park was dwarfing any trial at starting some smalltalk. Patrick threw his racket on the ground. "My goodness, it's hot. It's the first time in my life I am pleased to call off a match" "We should have gone swimming" murmured Rosy, with her eyes closed. "I know, but I was really into some tennis." "Mmmmmmm" Some minutes elapsed. The naked slave on the court had finished cleaning it, all the balls were rassembled, cleaned and put into the boxes, and the slave hastened itself back to the small cage near to the tennis court, where he locked himself in, until a Master or Mistress would free him, to serve at another match or to have him fed and watered. The cage was made of steel rods, closed at the top, offering some shadow, but was otherwise unprotected from the burning heat, and the slave carefully curled himself up not to burn him to the hot iron rods. "There's a match on telly, anyone feeling like looking at it?" "I prefer live tennis. Are the gentlemen really too tired to offer us, girls, a decent match?" Tenessa mumbled. "It is soo boring this way, and I like the sound of the balls bouncing around". "Couldn't move a finger, even if it were to win a zillion bucks. " Patrick yawned "By the way, what are we eating this evening?" "Can't believe my ears. The sun is burning the fat out of my belly, and he is thinking about – of all things – eating!" Tenessa sneared mockingly. "Well, eating is important, you know. Gives you strength for the nighty night. But something light, with vegetables and all that." Patrick remarked. A few minutes of silence, with only the hum of some insects. The butler was back now, waiving some fresh air to his mastres and their guests with a large palm leave. "Maybe we can have both at once. I'll make some calls." Patrick said. "Slave, my phone." In no time th butler had fetched a portable videophone from a drawer somewhere behind the bar, and, sitting on his knees, presented it to his master. Patrick composed a number from his memory, waited some time, then inserted an identification and scrambling key. It was going to be a high-security connection. "Jack, Willy here, membership 187-297-3345. I would like to order something for today., but I have some special requests." "Hoi Willy, " the person at the other side replied, "you know we need a full day for the impossible, but let hear what you have in mind". "Well, I would like two roasts, female, only one is going to be used. They should have some tennis training and be on equal level. Do you think this is possible." "Let me check, hmmmmm, I have here in the database something that might work : a blacky and a whitey, they should be on your screen now. It states they are both trained in tennis, but I can't see wether they are on equal level or not. They never played against each other, and we do no rankings in tennis. Might as well add this as a new feature in the future though. Their tennis will be mediocre, but should be entertaining. The blacky is about 5'8'', 125 lbs, 24 years old, black curley hair, the whitey is 5'8 1/2'', 130 lbs, blonde. As you can see, both are well trained, slim and without fat. They will make perfect roasters. They know their fate, and with a few precautions, there should be no problem getting them on a spit. I apologize that I can't offer any other couple. If you can wait till tomorrow, though, I am certain I can offer some extra choice." "No problem, Jack. Those two will do. Dispatch them as soon as possible to here, you can land on the strip behind the house, we're only four. Please dress the girls in, let's say, a sports BH, a white slip, T-shirt with the "meat girl" slogan on it, a tennis skirt, a cap, white trousers and tennis shoes, and a sweat band around each wrist and around the head. That makes, let's see, 12 garments each. Hm, that's too much, hm. No,leave it that way, its OK, I'll think up something. Provide them also with a tennis racket each, and also send over the necessary stuff for a one-person barbecue, vegetables, the spit, a cook, you know." "Ok, all will be at your place in about an hour or so. See you, and thanks for the order." Willy closed the connection, the other three looking amused to him without changing their lazy attitude. "Well, my dear Willy, some entertainment in mind?" "Yup. Too bad I didn't think earlier of it. Now we'll have to wait till 9 o'clock before we can start to eat. But we can have some small stuff during the match." Tenessa let herself dose away, thinking about the furious activity that was going on elsewhare. She hadn't seen the two girls, but Patrick hadn't shut down the speaker, so they all had heard the responses from the Game Controller. She could imagine the two girls being taken away from whatever they were doing, their training program, or some rest, then being showered, shaved, other people looking for the necessary items like the sports wear, the cook being hauled out of his afternoon sleep. Naw, for those people, this was business as usual. Except for the two girls of course. Spitting was pretty much always a dilettant's business. She giggled : you couldn't find an experienced spit-muffin, too bad. Single shot trials had their charm too. She must have dosen off a bit, because almost immediately she was waken up by the soft hum of the landing airplane. From where she was sitting she couldn't see the plane land. Willy was stretching himself, and was yawning without shame. A few minutes later, a small group of people came walking through the simmering heat to the bungalow. In front walked one of Willy's slaves, his chains glimmering in the burning sun. He was bare-footed, and Tenessa wondered how he did not to burn his feet. After him followed two tennis girls, a negro and a caucasian one. They were looking around, drinking in the extreme wealth as displayed by this private park, with the naked slaves carrying out their duties. The two girls had a chain around their necks, that was held by the slave, so that any escape was utterly impossible. The slave halted before the bungalow, being carefull not to enter into the shadow. Shadow was a reward, and rewards were give by Owners, not taken by slaves. Willy signed the two girls to enter, and the slave unchained their necks. Both girls walked calmly inside the terras, and, on an invitation from Willy, took a chair each and sat down. "What do you want to drink, ladies?" Willy asked politely. "Tonic, please Sir" - "Me a Coke, please, Sir". The butler immediately carried out the order and both girls found a refreshing drink before them. The other three people in the bungalow now became more active, and looked appraisingly at the two girls, with their muscular legs, the hair bound in a pony-tail and the white T-shirts with the slogan "More Meat Inside" printed on it. The slogan was rather apt, as both had well-developed breasts. "Well ladies, let me explain the rules. You are going to play a few tennis matches for our amusements. It's simply too hot for us, and, as Tenessa said, a live spectacle is much more rewarding than a TV one. But to spice up things, the following rules apply. Every time you lose a game, you have to throw away one of your garments, I mean : T-shirt, skirt or underware. You start with your underware. No sweat bands or so, only the four garments I mentioned. You may by yourself decide which one. If you are already naked, and you lose one more game, then you're toast, litterally. As you can see, the Company is setting up a one person spit, and the loser will be spitted alive. If you are trying to run away, then of course it's the spit and slow roasting. As a referee, I think Rosy and Tenessa here will decide on all items like out's and so. Now, take your time to finish your drinks, and then hop, off to the court. The ball-boy is in the cage there. If he's not satisfactory enough, I entitle you to smash his own balls, will make him speadier. And make it a bit a nice match." The two girls were anxiously sipping from their drinks, not knowing whether to drink in a hurry or to slow down. "We should give them names." Rosy suddenly said. "You whitey, we'll call Nancy, and you blacky, you're Chanda. Makes it easier." She re- arranged her seat such that she could observe the sun-blaked playground from the shadow. "Well Chanda, are you a good tennis player" Tenessa asked lazily. "Not really Madam, but I have been trained at least three times four hours a week, for more than a year. I had some tennis experience before, but now my condition is much better." "And you, Nancy?" "About the same, Madam. But I mostly trained on grass, and this is a gravel court, so it will be different.". "Did you ever have to play in public before?" Tenessa asked Cahndra. "No Madam, I have only be training so far. I have also been training in swords play, throwing knives, golf, basket, football, soccer and swimming. But up to now I have never used the tennis skills I acquired." Tenessa chuckled. "So, you have been sweating for a year to prepare your first match, which for one of you will also be your last match. Nice. The swordsplay you mentioned, what is it?" "It is fighting with swords and nets, Madam. We have been training with plastic swords with a stunner attached to it, so that each contact was very painfull, to make us more alert. We sometimes also had a net to capture the adversary. I was very good at swords fighting Madam." "Too bad you are going to fight a different figt now. If you win, I will ask you for a swords play, promised. Sounds entertaining. Ever killed someone?" "A few times already, Madam. Last month I had to fight with throwing knives against a male slave. We were standing at 100 feet from each other and had to throw knives, until one of us fell and touched the ground with his arm. I was untouched, and after three knives succeeded in throwing a knive through his leg. He fell, and then I had to walk over, and cut its troat." "And you, Nancy?" Tenessa added. "I only killed once, Madam. It was in a whipping contest, where I and another meat girl were standing near to a slide-off, leading to a large pot with boiling oil. We had to whip each other until one of us fell. I succeeded in wrapping my whip around her legs, to make her fall and she slided into the boiling oil. But I participated in games where the losers were killed, like pony runs, hide and shoot and so." "Well, well, well. Now it's fun that we have two such talended players here." Tenessa said. "but wouldn't you think it's time to start. We would like to dine at nine, and roasting one of you will easily take a few hours." Both girls jumped from their seats, and walked to the tennis court, anxious to please the woman who was going to referee them. They knew that this kind of referee wuold not hesitate to neglect the rules, if she wanted one of them to loose or win. Nancy opened the cage of the ball boy, and the slave ran immediately to the ball storage, took out two balls and ran to the side of the net. "The black one begins" Rosy shouted, and the slave ran to Chanda, handed her the balls, and hurried back to his place. The game started. It was not directly a brilliant game. As Jack had mentioned, although both players were good, they were not top level. As a result, the drives were short, and the ball-boy had to run for lost balls a lot. After a few minutes already the sweat was drenching the T-shirts of the playing woman, and was dripping from their bodies. Chanda won the first game, and Nancy removed her bra, letting her big breasts jiggle freely under her T-shirt. The "More Meat Here" sign became really funny to watch, with her nipples shining through the wet tissue. The ball slave was instructed to pick up the garment and bring it to the referees. The second game also was for Chanda, and both girls were allowed some drinking and a few minutes rest. During the third game the negress seemed to slow down a bit, and the referees decided a few times against her, and after a 7-6 for Nancy, Chanda finally lost her first game. She choose to remove her slip. Patrick commented it as being a wise decision : the wobbling breasts of Nancy seemed to hinder her, and a bit of air below, with this heat, was more than welcome. The fourth game als was for Chanda, and Nancy, now almost panicking from nerves, removed her T-shirt, and showed off her magnificent breasts and flat belly. The game became interesting. Maybe the half naked blonde distracted Chanda, or maybe the impeding doom gave Nancy additional power, but anyhow, Chanda lost two games in a row, and had to remove her bra and her skirt. The sight was lovely now. Willy had decided in giving both players a lot of water to drink, and the sweat was running from their bodies. The burning sun almost immediately dried up the sweat, but the remaining clothes of both players were literally soaked. Looking from the shadow, with refreshing drinks, the four people were enjoying the sight of the two hard-working young woman, fighting and running for each ball. Fatigue was taking its toll, and Nancy seemed to have the less stamina. After Chanda won the next game, and she had to remove her skirt, she was naked and started the 'game of sudden death', panting and shaking from the effort. The court was so hot now, that both girls had burnings from contact with the ground after falling. Rosy remarked that roasting might be unnecessary : just letting the girls play a few hours would be enough to have nicely roasted meat. The last game was a diappointment. The blonde Nancy, either because of sheer fatigue, either because she felt she was inferior to the black athlete at the other side of the net, made error after error, and even a few partial decision of the referees couldn't save her. When she lost the last match ball, she sank on her knees, wheeping like a small girl. Chanda seemed to have found new energy, and walked to the net, long shapely legs and muscular buttocks glittering from sweat under the white Tshirt. On a repeated sign from Rosy, Nancy managed to stand up, walk to the net and shake hands with Chanda, and walk to the referees chair, in the shadow. Both girls waited before the two woman referees. "Now, it was a nice match, but the last set was a bit a pity." Rosy remarked. "Wasn't it Nancy?". "Yes Madam", the blonde girl responded with a broken voice. "I, I tried for all I could, but I...", her voice croaked. "Now, now, no scenes." Rosy replied, " Come over here, so we can have a look at your meat. I think I will reserve a nice sirloin steak." She fondled the girls breasts and hanches, "and a piece of breast to, what you, my dear Tenessa?". "Not bad, but a piece of the leg would be great. I have seen her jump left and right, and she really has powerfull calves. Yes for me, definitely one of those." "And you Patrick?" "Oh, doesn't matter. I'm not into meat eating, I prefer vegetables, but of possible, a nice breast and her tongue, roasted separately, if I don't take one of the favourite plates from Willy of course." "Oh no, you don't. I'm a pussy man, myself, and this one has a very nice one. Just fat enough. Of course some extra steak and some vegetables." "Ok then", Rosy decided," meat, the barbecue is over there, just present yourself, and try to be entertaining while being on the spit. ". "Some girls just don't move after being spitted, it's such a shame!" she added for the others, "hopefully this one twists. Chanda, please don't stand there, just come in, but remove this silly T-shirt." The poor blonde walked slowly to the huge barbecue with its pre- heated spit, where a man in cook's costume was rakling through the burning coals, as to keep him busy. The barbecue was set up in the shadow of tree, and the glow from the coals could be seen before the heat was felt. The girl approached shuddering the setup. In the meantime, the negress entered the bungalow, and, half naked, placed herself near to the bar. "Was the ball boy up to his task, you think?" Rosy asked her. She hesitated." Well, mostly he was, but the third game, the one I lost, I had the impression that it took him every time a long time to bring me the balls. It gave my opponent the time to recover." "That was also my impression. Please, do me a favor, walk over, and hit him a few times hard in his balls, and put him in his cage afterwards. Five hard kicks will do the job I think. Then come back here." The negress walked outside towards the ball boy, who was still sitting on his knees near to the net. She took him by his hair, and dragged hem around. With a kick she made him spread his legs. Then, well aiming, she kicked him in his balls as hard as she could, one, two, three, four, five times. Inside the bungalow one could hear the dumb noice of the black foot in the white tennis shoe crashing into the ball sack, followed by the shriek of the slave. Nobody cared nor looked. After having hit the bastard five times with all her power, the negress dragged the whimpering body to the cage, pushed it through the door and loked it up. Without even glancing at the burning barbecue, while returning to the bungalow, glad she could finally escape the heat , she passed her blonde opponent who was offering herself to the cook. "You're the meat?" the cook asked with a friendly face. "Y...Yes S...Sir, Yes Sir. I am." she answered, knowing that each word she uttered, might be the last time she would utter this word in her life. "Come over here. Your tongue has been ordered seprately, so I must cut it out. Please place yourself on this table, yes, with your back on the table." With a swift movement he fastened the ankles and wrists of the girl to the four corners of the table, then threw a switch, and the blonde felt how her arms and legs were stretched out until she couldn't move anymore. She looked up at the tree and thousands things were raging through her mind, rememberances from her yought, from the training, faces from people, friends from the training, faces she had looked at while they died. However nobody was interested in her mind, only her meat counted. The cook inserted a metal clamping device in her mouth that opened it wide, and injected some fluid into the back of her tonge with a needle. She felt her tongue go numb. He then inserted a special, knife like device. She tried to utter some last words, but only an incoprehensible sound escaped from her throat. She felt a few movements in her mouth and she saw how the cook removed a bleeding piece of meat. Her tongue was meat, and she would soon follow. Her head was fastened with a strap, bent sharply backwards, and the cook inserted the sharp end of the spit into her mouth. She started to truggle frantically. Inserting through the mouth meant that almost no vital organs would be touched, and that she would be alife for a long time over the fire. It wasn't honest, she had played so well, she had been obedient up to the last second, she deserved a quicker death. From the shadow of the bungalow, the two women and the two men were looking at the twisting body, still wearing the sweat bands and the tennis shoes and socks. Slowly the cook pushed the spit into the wide-opened mouth. With a short push he pierced the stomach and then slowly pushed his way further down, sometimes halting to feel for the position of the spit, until it final shove out of the animals cunt. Then he proceeded quickly, shove the spit through the girl at full length, and tied her muscular legs and arms to the spit such that she was fully stretched. He then signalled a helper who had been waiting in the shadow, and together they lifted the spit and placed it over the barbecue. The ventilator started humming and the red hot coals threw their light on the twisting body above it. "Funny she's still wearing her shoes and sweat bands" Willy remarked. "She won't need the shoes, but the sweat band I can understand. Even without the coals she would be roasting there." Patrick replied. "Makes me think of it, shouldn't it be possible to invent a kind of large magnifier glass, so you can roast your meat simply by putting it under the glass? Barbecue is typically done when the weather is fine, and it would economise on coals. Furthermore, as no coals are added, you have a much healthier meat." "True, but the coals give that typical barbecue taste to the meat. You just must only care that you don't burn the meat." "Right. But I think there might be a market for it. Environmentalists for instance might buy it." While the men discussed further the solar powered barbecue device, Tenessa took the exhausted Chanda and placed the naked girl – except for her shoes, sockets and sweat bands - on a small marble platform, just outside the bungalow. "Now, my dear, just for decoration, take your tennis racket, right, this way, and now you just move through the poses of service, then backhand high, forehand low, backhand low and forehand high and then back to service, but you must do it so slow that I can't see you move. And turn around while you do it so the sun can play on your body. There is a movement detector just right here. If you move too fast, of if you fall, he will give a buzzing signal. As I don't like that, I'll give you to the ball boy for the night and let him amuse himself with you. Will be very entertaining." After this she went inside, letting the black muscular girl slowly move under the brazing sun, with the sweat glimmering on her body. It was too hot to go outside and look at the twisting spit-muffin, so they remained inside the bungalow, chatting about this and that, and waiting for the meal to be ready. Slaves placed the dining table and prepared the salads, the wine, the sauces and so on. It was all very relaxing. After an additional hour the cook announced that the meat was ready, and with their platters in their hand they went to the barbecue stand. The cook had removed the clothing items from the girl as soon as she had stopped twisting, and a bit later her hair had burned off, so the anaimal on the spit was a bald, brown piece of succulent meat. The tongue had been prepared in a separate platter. On request of the diners, the cook cut off the desired pieces of the still roasting gril. She turned out to be rather tasty, but because of the hot weather nobody was very hungry, and only Patrick and Rosy went back for seconds. After the meal, everybody dosed away a bit, and only woke up when the sun was setting and large shadows were casted over the tennis court. The barbecue had been removed, and the remainings of the barbecued girl been taken away. On Patricks order they were to be grounded to fed his dogs. He was very fond of his dogs, and only bought the most healthy meat and food for them. It was not uncommon for him to have one of his slaves being slaughtered to fed them. While they walked to the villa that evening, Patrick noted the negress, still performing her moving-statue task. He chuckled. Tenessa was - as always - forgotten to let her playthings down. The negress must have been almost exhausted. He started to walk over to order the girl to come down and present herself for being shipped back, but stopped in his tracks. 'Naw, ' he thought, 'Tenessa should learn to put her playthings away herself. I'll tell her as soon as I arrive in the villa', and without further looking at the trembling black shadow he continued his way, pondering what to do the next day. Maybe swimming at the beach, with a loau?