Nesi
My face is throbbing from that pistol whip, but the pain is slowly subsiding. I'll probably have a nasty bruise in a few days, but I should be okay for now. I still have all my teeth intact, and none seem chipped. However, there's something else that's bothering me. How did I not know any of this existed right in front of my eyes? I've been in that back area before and even seen the elevator but never bothered to get in. I never had a reason to. When I asked Jamaal about it, he claimed it was just an elevator from the previous business that was here before Panic. Turns out, that was a load of crap.
This place is an underground arena, just like the ones you'd find at popular sporting events worldwide. The rows of seats rise, giving everyone an equal view of the cage below. It's an octagon, similar to the cages in popular fighting leagues. It's basically the same thing and has logos sprawled across wherever the space allows. Sponsors would be my guess.
"Move it!" Small Coffee urges.
The soldiers push me from behind, propelling me forward as the crowd erupts into another cheer. I'm careful not to trip with these shackles on my ankles. Arlo is right by my side, probably just as confused as I am about what's happening. I'm not shocked he's a pussy, given his pretty boy appearance.
Does Small Coffee want us to fight each other? Me against Arlo? Well, there's no doubt that I could kick his ass. His weak display when we were attacked tells me everything I need to know. I'm a fighter. I grew up on the mat because I enjoyed it. I loved feeling in control, forcing someone to tap out. It's an incredible sensation; if I have to do that to Arlo, so be it.
As we descend the stairs and get closer to the octagon, I notice tables surrounding the cage on the lower level. There are even announcers like in professional leagues, except this is an underground circuit. I've heard of these before but never witnessed one in person. They're illegal for a reason. Yet judging by the packed arena, it seems like none of these spectators care about that.
"Wait here!" Small Coffee yells to make himself louder than the crowd. "This match is about to conclude!"
I glance over at Arlo and see that his face has turned pale. Given what just occurred, I'm sure he's afraid to confront me inside this cage. By breaking that soldier's arm, I inadvertently caused his death. The shame of being defeated by someone like me compelled that soldier to take such drastic measures. Pride is deadly. And that time, deadly enough for a bullet in the brain.
Arlo shifts nervously, and I wish I could tell what's going through his head. I turn to look at Small Coffee. "You want us to fight?!" I scream at him.
Small Coffee's face scrunches up a bit. "Something like that!"
"No way!" Arlo yells, finally finding his voice.
The arena is aglow with spinning lights, casting a red hue upon the audience. It's as if we're all standing beside an ambulance, except there's no trace of blue light. The poles encasing the octagon rise high into the air, adorned with flashing red sirens. An automated voice booms, almost sounding computer-generated.
"Power play!" The crowd erupts with excitement, their cheers drowning out any other sound. I scream, but my voice goes unheard, lost in the chaos of Small Coffee, the soldiers, and Arlo surrounding me. My eyes briefly shut, only to open again when I feel the release of my shackles. Small Coffee is behind me with a key, freeing me from my restraints. He then crouches down to remove the binds from my ankles. I entertain the idea of kicking him and watching him tumble into the blinding lights. Eh, as much as I want to, my gut tells me that wouldn't be wise, despite the satisfaction it might bring.
I rub my sore wrists, which are now encircled with red ligature marks. Eventually, those marks will fade, just like the bruise that will soon paint my face from that pistol whip. Small Coffee positions himself between me and Arlo, grabbing our wrists. "You two deserve a better view!" he yells.
Leading the way, he guides us up the steps outside the octagon and onto a small platform that overlooks the cage below. From this elevated vantage point, I gaze down at the mat and instinctively step back, clinging to the cage before me to steady myself. My hands tremble eagerly as they grip the metal bars. To say that my eyes widen would be an understatement. I'm utterly captivated by the scene unfolding before me. Glancing at Arlo, I see the same wide stare reflected in his eyes.
"What the fuck is this?!" Arlo screams at the top of his lungs.
Small Coffee folds his arms over his chest, not reacting to what the two combatants are doing in the cage. "You two will take their place after this match."
"You're one sick fuck!" Arlo yells, who stands on the other side of Small Coffee. "I'm not doing this!"
Small Coffee grins. "You say that like you have a choice! You two either play the game or die trying to leave!" He glances at both me and Arlo before continuing. I can barely hear him and have to look at his lips to ensure I understand. "My soldiers have orders to shoot both of you should you try to leave!"
"What?!" Arlo and I scream together.
As Small Coffee remains silent, I peer back into the cage. I lean forward and squint my eyes to get a clearer view of the two fighting. Fighting doesn't quite capture the essence of what I see... but I struggle to find a more appropriate word. It's a man and a woman, and both are completely naked. Scanning the mat, I notice garments scattered haphazardly, meaning these two started with all their clothes on.
Their position remains unchanged as the vibrant red lights sweep the octagon, creating a mesmerizing Doppler effect that resonates with the crowd's deafening roar. The blonde woman puffs her cheeks and forces air out of her mouth as she bounces atop the man's face, her movements synchronized. She's in a full straddle with her thighs on each side of the man's head while she gazes down at the rest of his body. His face can't be seen. The man is on his back, clearly aroused by his throbbing and pulsating cock dancing in the air. There's no way he isn't moaning, but the cheers of the crowd, coupled with the otherworldly siren, drown that out.
The woman rolls her head back and releases a cackle... an all too familiar cackle. Her hand reaches forward, enveloping the man's cock, and with fervent strokes, she skillfully explores every inch of his shaft. She strokes up and down the entire length of the shaft in a repetitive motion. Her palm rolls around his tip, and then she bends over, collapsing her lips around it.
"Oh, fuck this!" Arlo yells and runs back down the stairs.
"Freeze!" a soldier screams through a muffled mask. I spin around to see three of them aiming their guns at Arlo, who puts his hands up like a fucking moron.
"Get back up there!" a second soldier screams, though it could have been the same one. They all sound alike, and with the masks, I can't see their mouths move.
Arlo spins around, slowly walks back up the stairs, and stands where he was before, next to Small Coffee. "Want to try that again? They'll shoot you next time," he threatens.
"No..." Arlo says.
"Yes!" the woman screams from inside the cage. I look back inside, and we lock eyes.
"Sara?!" I scream at her.
"Nesi! Hi!" she yells, the guy's cock still in her death grip as she bounces like a pogo stick on the dude's face.
Arlo squeezes in front of Small Coffee, who retreats to the first stair behind us. "You know that chick?!"
"I thought I did..." I mutter.
"Isn't this incredible?!" Sara screams. Her tits bounce rhythmically as she straddles the man's face. He doesn't resist, and why would he? After all, Sara is undeniably stunning. Although I must admit, I'm far superior. Regardless, Sara is still breathtaking. The man is clearly and thoroughly enjoying himself in that position.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I scream down at her, now leaning further over the cage. As I scan the underground stadium, I notice the audience members fixating their gaze upon them. I bet a few people in this crowd indulge in their own private pleasure. Right there in their seats... I shake my head, determined to banish that disturbing thought.
"I'm about to win the match! Mark has no chance!" she yells back. The crowd roars again, and I can't hear her, but she mouths at me, "Watch this..."
Sara goes back to work on Mark's cock. I barely hear her moans since I'm sure Mark is working her pussy with his mouth and tongue. She begins stroking once again, as quickly as she can, with no build-up or slow tease. While she strokes, she bounces heavily on his face, almost power-bombing him with her pussy and ass. She's clapping him, and with a pretty excellent technique, too. Again, I'm better, and I can't help but picture doing this with Arlo... I look at him, and his face is as red as possible. He stares at Sara and Mark below and isn't looking away.
Sara leans back over, her eyes fixed on Mark's cock as she wraps her lips around it. She takes him deep into her mouth. I quickly glance down at Arlo's crotch, licking my lips before returning my attention to Sara. As she pulls back, her lips glide slowly up his saliva-coated shaft, the sensation making her convulse. Her head moves gracefully, swirling at the tip, as her lips descend again with force. Her hands firmly press Mark's legs to the mat. It's the little reactions that reveal the most. Mark's toes curl, a visual tell of the pleasure coursing through him. It's a dance of intimacy, or rather... a fight of intimacy, considering they're inside an octagon.
Sara rises and pants. "Holding out on me, huh?!" she screams. The red lights die down, and that blaring, eerie siren dies with them. Her face contorts into a grin, and her eyes glaze over. Mark must've found her sweat spot because now her moans fill the cage, and the audience reacts again with a roar and a pop.
Sara rises from Mark's face, granting me a clearer view of him. His head is completely shaved, devoid of any hair. His jawline is well-defined, and his face appears flushed, although it's difficult to tell whether it's his sweat or hers. Mark takes a few deep breaths, panting to regain his composure. He lifts himself slightly and nudges Sara forward. "You fucking bitch!" he shouts.
Why is he acting that way?
A cackle escapes from Sara's mouth. She's straddling his chest now, facing away from his head. "Oh, Nesi! Mark here loves himself a good face-sit, don't you, Mark?" she asks, reaching behind her and grabbing his bald head. "I need to watch my pleasure! He's great. Wouldn't want to lose this match by accident."
"Lose how..." Arlo says next to me. I almost forgot he was here. I'm so captivated by this that I want to learn more.
Mark's hand connects with Sara's ass, the sharp sound cutting through the roaring crowd. She lets out a soft, breathy moan, and her body recoils before finding the perfect setup. "Gotcha!" she yells. With a push off the mat, she drops herself onto Mark's pulsating cock. "You're such a fucking loser, Mark." He looks somewhat surprised and, to my astonishment, he's trying to get her off! What the fuck, dude! Let her ride you. Enjoy it and stare at her perfect ass while she gives you the reverse cowgirl! I watch him continue to struggle, bucking this way and that, and he even tries to lift her by the armpits. Sara locks herself on his cock and bounces harder with greater force to fill him with pleasure and stop his feeble attempts at freeing himself. His mouth is moving, and he is probably screaming, but I can't understand what he says.
The rhythmic movement of Sara's hips is met with Mark's deep groans. Now, those I can hear. His head jerks back as pleasure consumes him. Sara's relentless pace makes it almost look like she's desperate. Her feet curl onto Mark's body, and he grips them tightly, using them as makeshift handlebars. Leaning forward, she places her hands on his legs, her clapping ass captivating the audience as she engulfs his cock. Mark's groans grow louder, his body tensing with every thrust. His eyes flutter closed. His face goes flushed. His toes curl hard enough to see the white pressure marks. His hips thrust up as she drops on him almost involuntarily. He's reached that point of no return. He's about to come. Not to call myself a slut... but I recognize when a guy is about to blow his load.
"Yes! Yes!" Sara screams. "Game over, Mark! Oh, God, pump and fill me up! Hahaha! Oh, lord!"
"This match has ended in cumfall!" an announcer's voice blares throughout the stadium. "Your winner is Sara!" Everyone in the crowd rises to their feet with their hands in the air, chanting Sara's name.
"Cumfall?!" I scream. I think Arlo screamed that at the same time I did, but I can't be sure. The crowd is even louder now.
Sara rises to her feet, with Mark's come trickling from her pussy. As she positions herself above him, Small Coffee suddenly enters the octagon. I do a quick double-take, realizing that he must have left while everything unfolded. Small Coffee raises his hands to signal the crowd to calm down, and at last, they fall silent for the first time since Arlo and I arrived.
"What the fuck kind of game is this..." Arlo mutters next to me.
It's a game we're about to play, Arlo. That's all I can think to myself.
Small Coffee points a finger at Sara. A microphone in his other hand lets us and the crowd hear him. "You know the rules since you've been victorious here before."
Sara nods as Mark still lies on his back, panting with his cock finally on the way down. "Yes," she says. "And you should already know what my answer is."
Small Coffee laughs, along with the crowd. "I have to ask anyway," he says once the laughter subsides. "Do you want the $10,000 or $100,000 prize?"
"How much?!" I yell.
"That's a lot of money..." Arlo says.
I scoff. "Yeah, no kidding."
Sara flashes a sly smile. "I want the $100,000."
Small Coffee snaps his fingers. "Then you know what you have to do." One of the three soldiers who was guarding us enters the ring.
Sara grins as the soldier approaches her. She turns to look at me. "Oh, Nesi. Now you finally get to see this in all its glory."
"See what?" I ask over the cage.
The soldier hands Sara the rifle. "Remember what I said? This is how you survive..." She cocks the gun and aims it at Mark's head, who is entirely clueless as to what's going on around him. That must have been some orgasm. There had to have been more build-up than what me and Arlo saw before we were led down here.
Bang.
"Fuck, Sara!" I scream.
"Holy shit!" Arlo yells, stumbling backward and down the stairs. I spin around and look at him to make sure he's okay. He seems fine, while some of the audience laughs at him.
"Damn. You got blood on my pants!" Small Coffee screams. "God, there's no hesitation with you, is there?"
As I peer back into the cage, I watch Sara lift the gun onto her shoulder. My gaze shifts to a sizable puddle of dark red. It's Mark. Or what's left of him. His face literally exploded. All that remains of him are the entrails and the pooling blood surrounding his head. Throughout my life, I've witnessed various horrifying scenes. Yet, this leaves me repulsed, and I cover my mouth with my hand. Mark is dead... Dead. I didn't even know the guy, but now I feel a sense of pity.
"That's why they call me the Spider." Sara turns to me and grins. "I hope you and Arlo are ready to play... You two are next." She casually walks over to the cage and exits toward another door I didn't notice before near the back of the arena.
Small Coffee moves his microphone closer to his mouth. "Are you all ready for the newcomer match?! Anything can happen with these!"
The crowd roars. I'm motionless. Frozen in this spot, just as Arlo is frozen at the base of the stairs.