Chapter 11 - On Dominance: Helena Douglas


                                                    On Dominance

                                                        by Volpone

                                                  Grouping: Flatland
                                         Continuum: Hentai Crossover
                          Location: a sports arena closed for renovations

                                           Chapter 11: Helena Douglas

          This day was going to be something of a mystery for Quinn. After his bout the day before
against Lei Fang, an artist whose style was very much like his own, today was the exact opposite.
Helena Douglas practiced pi qua quan, also called chop-hanging palm and similar translations. It was a
discipline which used a great deal of long, sweeping and rotating strikes to generate its force for both
hands and feet.
          The woman herself was also somewhat of a paradox. She was certainly very attractive, blonde,
bright eyes that looked to be either aqua or green depending on the light, with a body that was graceful
while still quite shapely. She was also wealthy (he believed, though that may have changed due to
recent events) and a successful opera singer before turning to martial arts. A fellow music lover was
someone he'd naturally feel drawn towards.
          Unfortunately, she seemed to suffer from some of the haughty, condescending traits that Karin
Kanzuki presented. In a purely social situation, he'd likely have given her a pass despite her love of
classical music, but she'd also been very excited at the idea of “full erotic contact”. Perhaps she wanted
a chance to play out some fantasies and thought this a good opportunity.
          Whatever the reasoning, he suspected she was in communication with someone who had some
inside information as the outfit she showed up in was almost a dead ringer for the same style Lei Fang
wore just the day before but Helena's was white, complete with the long evening gloves. The only real
notable difference was the large signature hair bow that held back her long blonde pony tail.
          “Are the contestants ready?” asked Kasumi.
          Quinn deferred to his opponent.
          “Mademoiselle Douglas?” he asked, giving her the option for getting going or taking some time
to warm up.
          “If you sink being polite is going to stop me from kicking you around ze ring, zen save your
breath,” she responded.
          He had to wonder if the French accent was real or an affectation. She was supposed to be
French by birth, but honestly she reminded him somewhat of John Cleese taunting the “silly Eenglish
k-nnnnnigits.” Not quite that bad, but still rather distracting. Perhaps she was what some Japanese
game executive thought of as sounding French.
          Either she was wanting to see if he'd get angry and make mistakes or she was just a genuine
bitch. Whatever the reason, it gave him no cause to be overly concerned for her fine sensibilities. If
she wanted to play the haughty socialite, he'd just have to play the lowly commoner who took her down
a few pegs. And if it was genuine, the same rules applied... she just deserved it more.
          “I merely wanted to make sure you were given what time you need to prepare. You know...
meditation... shopping lists... suitable exclamations of rapture...”
          “And why would I waste time on some'sing I'll never use?” she came back.
          “And here I thought you'd gotten some information concerning the previous matches.”
          And he gave Mika, the observer standing on his side of the ring a wink.
          “Shall we get zis over with?” she asked waspishly.
          “Thus end the pleasantries,” he observed, and nodded to Kasumi.
          “Begin!” she called, and started the clock.
          His blonde adversary fell into position, then started a couple of spins, her arms rotating at about
forty-five degrees as she turned and spun closer, clearly ready to make first contact.
          How he covered the distance she had no clue, but one moment she lost sight of him in her turn,
the next he was inside her descending left arm's swing, blocking with his raised left arm...
          And then she was off the floor and coming down flat, the air being knocked out of her from the
impact with the canvas.
          She used the momentum of the throw to keep rolling, to come back to her feet...
          Or she thought to do so if he hadn't cooperated just as far as letting her roll but without her arm
going with her. He actually rolled with her, pulling her up onto himself with her left arm levered up
behind her, then on over again so he was laying full length atop her with her left arm trapped at the
small of her back.
          Pi qua quan was a form that utilized motion, and it wasn't a grappling discipline. Once she had
lost her movement, she was severely crippled in her options.
          But his job wasn't to show her what her mistakes were other than to take advantage of them.
          So Helena found herself pinned down to the mat, her hair askew, left arm behind her and
controlled by her opponent, his full weight pressing her into the floor, mashing her breasts into the
canvas and giving her no range of motion. She had no more than a couple of inches of head movement
available so her, so a head butt was out of the question. Her legs had little flex, only moveable from
the knee down, so they had no real momentum either, so it appeared her only way to get free was if she
could get a hold on something with her right hand.
          Hmm... he's wearing a kilt...
          She took a moment to figure approximately where his crotch might be so she could make her
shot count, but as they were, he was protected by his hip because his penis was right about...
          Material was moving now, and Helena felt the back panel of her costume being pulled between
them.
          “Non, vous sera pas!” she told him, instinctively reverting to her native French, thinking he was
getting the fabric out of the way to give himself access to her genitals. She still had her bottoms in the
way but they offered little protection and he just had to shift them to one side to have her sexually
vulnerable.
          She began swinging her right hand, striking at the only portion of him that was where she could
strike with any kind of strength, but that was his hip, and the bone there was doing as much harm to her
as to him. Still, it was her only option unless she intended to let him rape her without a struggle.
          “Full erotic contact” indeed! It was nothing but an excuse for rape. She'd submit and assume
the observers would act as witnesses if he didn't stop. Still, to give up so easily galled her.
          So she kept hitting, and about her fifth or sixth strike, he suddenly shifted and she missed the
hip but then discovered what he'd truly been doing with the fabric of her outfit. She felt his weight
leave her back partly though his shins still pinned her legs down and one hand seemed to be holding
her to the mat.
          And he caught her right hand this time because of her missed strike, and she felt it levered up
behind her back.
          She tried to claw his wrist, but realized her evening gloves gave her no nails to work with.
She gave a loud grunt of frustration as he forced her wrists together, not in an “x” or similar
pattern to allow her to pull them away from one another, but both aimed down, her hands at her own
ass and bound tightly with her own costume, the lower panel serving the purpose nicely. If she'd
picked a heavier outfit it would never have worked, but she'd picked a high-quality silk, thin and
surprisingly strong... and perfect for acting as bindings.
          “Now, please don't take this as personal,” he told her, and she felt the front panel of her costume
pulled back between her thighs, and still kneeling on the back of her legs, he raised the upper portion of
his body from hers, leaving her unable to rise without her arms pinned as they were.
          Then he began rhythmically tugging on the silk between her thighs, putting some pressure on
her crotch as he did.
          It was humiliating and irritating to be in this kind of a spot, but he couldn't accomplish much
like this. He'd need a lot better situation to stimulate her that way, if that was his intention.
          “Hmm...” she heard him muse, and then she felt him winding the cloth panel up like a rope,
making it much thinner until it was gathering underneath her, her costume now providing him with a
heavy silk rope running between her thighs.
          And when he started pulling on that, it made a difference.
          Before, the wide fabric had done very little, but like this, it put much firmer pressure in a
concentrated area, and he had it right over her clit like this, and if he kept pulling...
          He had her excitement rising, but she knew that was what he wanted, and she wouldn't give him
the satisfaction. Her hands might be bound, but she wasn't going to just lie there and take it. Since her
hands were where they were, she got her fingers around the cloth to prevent him from pulling it so
firmly against her labia, giving her some relief from his abuse.
          “Well, that's no good,” he observed, seeing how she was going to prevent him from getting her
off in that manner. “How about this?”
          And she felt him lift her up and get one arm around her neck. If she'd realized what he
intended, she might have gotten her chin down far enough to prevent his leverage, but he'd surprised
her by changing tacks so quickly.
          She felt her blood being cut down, the pulse in her ears begin to throb in time to her laboring
heart.
          “Relax,” he assured her. “It'll only be a couple of seconds...”
          And she felt herself growing weaker, her focus fuzzing out.
          And Quinn thought, Oh, what the hell... let her enjoy it.
          And she was racked with an orgasm as she felt her consciousness slipping away.
          Helena came back into focus after what could have only been a matter of seconds since she
heard Kasumi asking, “Can you hear me? Are you able to continue?”
          Blearily, she automatically mumbled, “'Course I contin... continue,” she forced out, her
naturally competitive character getting the better of her judgment, which was severely impaired at the
moment. Then she realized she was no longer on the canvas. She was upright, or at least partly so. She
tried to move and found her arms still bound behind her as they had been, but she blinked several times
to clear her vision and discovered she had one of the ring ropes under each arm, her back against the
padded turnbuckles in one of the corners.
          Then adrenalin helped to burn off the fog as she realized she was still in a match.
          And her opponent stood looking at her from several meters away, a look of insincere concern on
his face. “Are you sure?” he asked her. “There's no dishonor in submitting.”
          The way he said it... as if she had no choice.
          “There's no way you're getting ze satisfaction of my giving in,” she replied.
          But as she said it, she also recognized that fact that he had her almost helpless. She was bound
with her arms over the top rope and her wrists tied together under the second turnbuckle's connector to
the post. It was possible she might be able to work her wrists lose if given enough time, but it wouldn't
be fast.
          How long had she been out?
          And she realized that he'd also made some alterations to her costume. It was still on her, but
barely, the front open all down the front and the front panel just covering her enough to prevent giving
him a full crotch shot of her spread legs.
          She brought both legs in and tried to stand, putting as much pressure as she dared on her wrists,
but the silk seemed to be secure enough to stop anything from shifting.
          So much for Plan A.
          Still, her position gave her use of both legs and she was facing him, so that meant if he came in
range, she could kick. It wouldn't have near the power she was used to having, but she didn't need
power if she caught him in the balls.
          “Five minutes!” reported Kasumi.
          That was not what Helena wanted to hear... wait... did that mean five minutes to go?
          Looking at the man who had set this whole thing up, she knew immediately that he felt it was
plenty of time for what he intended to do.
          So she was going to be hanging here for twenty-five minutes. Fine. She still wouldn't give him
the satisfaction of having her quit.
          “Enjoying ze view?” she asked, and Quinn again wondered about the accent.
          “Vraiment,” he responded. Outside of her expression, she was a good looking woman.
          Now it was simply a question of which way she'd prefer: seduction or domination.
          He moved closer to see how she would react.
          She smiled at him, and as soon as he was close enough she tried to kick him.
          Okay, so seduction wasn't looking too likely.
          It would have been a lot easier if he'd taken time to bind her feet as well. But then she'd likely
just spit at him or something.
          He said, resignedly, “Okay, you want to kick me? Knock yourself out.”
          And he put his hands behind his back and stepped into range.
          She figured he must be an idiot to give her a target like that, so she swung her foot up to try to
catch him right in the jewels.
          But he simply brought up the opposite knee and blocked her.
          So she tried with the other foot, and he did the same thing with the other knee.
          She tried several more times, shifting her timing, trying the same foot more than once, but he
simply kept blocking...
          Until she snapped up her right and this time he caught her ankle, even though his hands had
been behind him a moment before.
          She had to admit, he was fast.
          And he held her ankle as he moved over to the ropes on that side and started binding her ankle
to the second rope from the bottom.
          She realized what this would do to her situation and started thrashing, kicking at him with her
other foot, trying to break his hold but she couldn't get enough momentum to really hurt him. It
couldn't have been comfortable, but he just ignored her until he was done...
          And the next kick with her left he trapped as well.
          “Smooth or rough?” he asked.
          Rather than answer, she tried to jerk her foot away, but he kept hold of her ankle with fingers
that felt more like shackles, and she questioned his parentage in a colorful and idiomatic French.
          “Impolite and irrelevant,” he responded, and when she tried to pull back her foot, he came with
it and before she knew what was up, he jammed a thumb into her left hip.
          She felt a shock run down her leg and she lost most of the use of it down to the ankle.
          Releasing her largely useless leg, he stepped in and grabbed the fabric of her outfit. He gave it
a good jerk with both hands and it parted down the middle, ripping the front panel top to bottom.
Another jerk accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric and he held up a nice length of silk, just right
for binding ankle to rope.
          Without full use of her leg, her struggles were largely symbolic, and soon he had her left ankle
bound to the second rope up as well. This put her hanging from the ropes under her arms, her spread
legs at ninety degrees and lacking even the slight protection offered by her bottoms since he'd
obviously removed them when she'd been semi-conscious. She then realized they were what he'd used
to tie her right ankle to the rope.
          He came in close and crouched in front of her to address her.
          “Okay, now that we have all that out of the way, please remember... you are within your rights
to submit at any time. Just say the word and the match is over.”
          If he didn't keep reminding her of the fact, she might have considered it. As it was, it just made
her mad.
          And he reached in and flipped the last of her outfit aside so she was entirely exposed to him,
hanging there in the corner glaring daggers at him.
          Quinn found it highly revealing that “ze French lady” must wax regularly as she was utterly
hairless below the waist and had her clit pierced with a very tasteful gold ring.
          Rather than comment on his discoveries, he reached out and ran a hand up her thigh, and she
tried to jerk away as if his touch was repugnant to her.
          He did the same with the other thigh and she tried again but with less success as that leg was
still partly numb from whatever nerve thing he'd done to her hip. He didn't go near the junction of her
thighs, but it was clear he could without her being able to stop him.
          Placing his hands on her hips, he ran them up her body slowly and gently, not as if examining a
piece of meat but as if enjoying the sensation of her skin beneath his hands.
          Helena again tried to jerk away, but she felt no more give to her bindings than at the beginning.
          And then his hands were caressing her chest, a bit surprised to discover that they were real and
not the result of a talented plastic surgeon. Women with money so often felt the need to “improve”
things just a bit, and Helena looked as if she might have indulged herself in that way, but he was
pleased to find his assumption wrong.
          His fingers continued to explore, and though she tried to move away, she couldn't even get
herself away form his hands enough to bother. He continued to massage them, then drew his fingers
over the skin gently until they flicked off the tips, and he smiled slightly to see her nipples tighten
under his treatment.
          “So... not entirely unpleasant from the look of things,” he commented softly.
          And she again jerked, feeling betrayed by her body's responses to him.
          He sounded amused as he observed, “Oh, come now. You can't tell me this...” and he moved
the ring piercing her clitoris with his finger several times, “... is purely a fashion statement.”
          Her breath caught slightly at his messing with her piercing, and he knew that her sexual reaction
to fighting was starting to give her troubles. He was very tempted to draw his fingers up between her
labia to expose how wet she likely was, but he decided a bit more teasing was in order first.
          Returning his fingers to her lovely round breasts, he gave her a couple more squeezes, then ran
his fingers over them... and again... then when his fingertips found her nipples, he caught them and
pulled enough to get a reaction.
          His blonde opponent twitched and gave a whimper, refusing to look at him at all now.
          He tried to sound conversational as he told her, “I really should compliment you for not letting a
surgeon near these,” and he gave a firm squeeze to her chest to indicate what he referred to without her
looking. “So many women think they have to improve everything by making them bigger or smaller or
firmer or more perky when there is nothing that can really be done to improve something so lovely to
begin with.”
          And again he took her deep rosy buds between his fingertips and lifted her by them.
Helena gave a gasp and tried to raise up to follow the direction his fingers were going.
          “See? Things can be so much nicer when you play nice.”
          And this time, he did run his fingers up between her labia, making her writhe and groan as her
body twisted to the side, but she couldn't escape him.
          He massaged the moist folds of her vagina in a circular manner, then changed directions and ran
his hand front and back, parting her lips and allowing himself to tease the opening to her canal.
          Her hips moved involuntarily as she tried to suppress her reactions to his impudent conduct, but
she knew that she was at his mercy now. All she could try to do now was not give him the satisfaction
of looking as if she enjoyed it.
          His free hand went back to committing manual indignities to one of her breasts as the middle
finger of his other hand curved up and began to explore more boldly, sliding up inside her a couple of
times, the palm of his hand moving the ring as it moved as well.
          The headstrong blonde still had her eyes closed and her face turned to the side as he fingered
her more deeply, and he let his ring finger join the other, making her bite her lower lip in an attempt to
remain silent.
          “Don't tell me you're still not enjoying this... even a little?” he teased her, and his fingers began
stroking more vigorously, actively masturbating her now, not giving her a place to hide as he forced her
reactions to the surface.
          “Aah!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her response, but then she clamped her mouth shut and
went back to trying to remain stoic.
          He kept this up until Kasumi called, “Ten minutes!” then decided it was time to see if he could
break Mlle Douglas' resolve. He removed his fingers a moment, then held them up near her ear where
she could hear the wet sounds they made as he moved his digits, rubbing his thumb against them and
getting it sticky as well, then he returned them to stroking away at her, but now his thumb was on her
clit, using both his thumb-tip and her piercing to drive her along as quickly as he could.
          She started fighting again, but it was more her body trying to do something other than just hang
there than any real attempt to escape, and her voice began whimpering as she got ever closer to losing
control.
          Helena strained silently, and them she jerked and gave a series of cries with her mouth firmly
closed, as if that somehow made it any less obvious she was climaxing strongly.
          Then she was surprised to feel something warm and wet capture her left nipple, and then his
tongue caressed it as his lips drew it into his mouth, his left hand still manipulating her other breast and
his right trying to force yet another orgasm from her.
          He had her writhing so badly she had forgotten all about trying to escape, and then she felt
another finger of his right hand press at the tight seal of her anus, and then he was masturbating her
both front and back, making her shake even harder as he stimulated her at three points below all at
once.
          Quinn was enjoying himself greatly. In spite of her earlier protests, her body was a wonderful
instrument and it reacted to his every touch. Her breasts were lovely and gave so nicely when
squeezed, her nipples fine and erect and begging for him to use them... and her wet, warm, well-toned
chat was grabbing at his fingers as if trying to pull him within.
          Her mouth fell open and she began to cry out as her next climax struck, and she jerked hard
enough to make the ropes bounce.
          Any pretense now of her not being sexually receptive was lost, so he felt he should do
something to allow her just a bit of rest... but not so much as to not keep her thoroughly primed.
          He stood, and again noticed how conveniently high her breasts were located like this. Flipping
up his kilt, he again took hold of her by the breasts, but this time he pressed them towards each other,
making a nice tight channel in her cleavage where he could slide his erect tool.
          It was rather silly, her hanging helpless like this and playing ostrich, eyes closed and face turned
aside as if this made what he was doing any less real. He couldn't tell if this was anything she had
much experience with, but he knew it was likely a bit too submissive for her taste to indulge in this
kind of thing often... which was one of the reasons he'd chosen it.
          It also allowed him to concentrate on her lovely chest and use her responsive nipples while
enjoying himself (and all while doing something to her that would make her resist the idea of
“submitting” and spoiling both their fun). He liked pulling her delightful globes together by her
nipples. He couldn't quite get them to touch, but he thought that with a bit of help and training, he
might get her there. Then again, when they didn't touch yet, it meant he could always try pulling a little
harder.
          As he performed his new little experiment, Helena exclaimed loudly, whether from pain or
pleasure was tough to tell until she started shaking and then crying out in time to his thrusts until she
gave one long rising cry and bucked.
          In the midst of all this, he heard the call of “Fifteen minutes!” and decided he needed to step up
his game. He'd love to find out how she was a giving head, but then he didn't want to waste five or ten
minutes of their remaining time trying to coax her into something she'd be more resistant to than
anything else he might do... or so it seemed to him. Better to go ahead with something he knew she'd
be unable to refuse short of submitting.
          He eased off her nipples and released her breasts, interested to note there seemed to be small
droplets of lactation on each of them. Again he wished he had more time for exploring this but felt it
was better to move on.
          He knelt down in front of her, and did a bit of checking how their positions matched up before
proceeding. When he discovered that kneeling was too short and standing was too tall, he had to get
creative.She felt his feet push between herself and the rope holding her legs, and then his shins, and
finally his knees moved her enough to hook over the rope with her. She kept her face averted and her
eyes closed, not wanting to see what he was planning, but she could still feel his weight pulling first on
one rope, and then she felt him take hold to the top rope, suspending himself from the same ropes
holding her, but clearly facing her.
          Then she felt something considerably larger than a finger pressing between her thighs, and with
a slight shift in position, he started to penetrate her.
          If she didn't want this to go any further, she'd have to submit now... but did she really want
things to not go any further?
          And then he shifted a bit more and the matter was academic because he was inside her almost to
her cervix, and she was whimpering loudly.
          Then he began to use the spring of the ropes to get them into motion, and they hung there
together in the corner of the ring while they fucked.
          The three onlookers gathered around the corner where all the action was taking place and made
themselves comfortable to watch the rest of the action, and Quinn heard occasional quiet comments
from outside the ring.
          As he moved, Quinn couldn't help but think that if Helena wanted him to think this was being
forced on her, she was doing a pretty fine job of making it good for him. Playing D.I.B. (“dead in
bed”) was a way of making a man lose interest most of the time, but it seemed either Helena hadn't read
that page of the players manual or wasn't that good a method actor as the muscles lining her quim were
squeezing him nicely, neither hard enough to make it difficult nor loose enough to make it lackluster. If
he didn't know any better, he'd think she was enjoying this and wanted it to continue.
          Then again, there was always the only sure way to know... she never told him to stop.
          Using the ropes this way was different from how he'd done it before. Being face-to-face let him
press against Helena full length, and it was nice to feel her skin and breasts against his chest. It was
one of the disadvantages of so many of the other possibilities, and the spring of the ropes and the
leverage provided by his legs pivoting to give more purchase gave him a very nice, long, steady stroke.
          The mademoiselle seemed to approve in spite of her averted face. Her nipples were tight, she
was lubricated like an old steam engine, and her voice couldn't hide that she was enjoying herself. She
might not be shouting “OUI! OUI!” but she might have well done that, too.
          Once her first orgasm hit this way, she seemed to get past some tipping point and she was
coming every twenty to thirty seconds, or perhaps they were just the most vocal peaks in on long
continuous orgasm. She squirted just twice that way (as if female ejaculation was ever a “just”), and
Quinn was thinking of having a set of ring ropes installed in his bedroom back home if they contributed
to this kind of sex. Helena was pretty damned good in her technique even when she was playing coy,
and Quinn always had a weak spot for easily-orgasmic women.
          Kasumi's voice with the “Twenty minutes!” call made him realize that they were still “on the
clock” and if he planned anything new for his lovely French poodle, he needed to start moving in that
direction.
          Helena had stopped fighting her body's desires the moment she felt his hard cock slide so
incredibly inside her, and she simply kept her eyes shut and face turned away largely out of pride. This
strange man seemed to know her body and her hidden fantasies more surely than she did herself.
          So when he stopped fucking her before he'd come, she was puzzled. She nearly broke character
and asked him what was wrong before stopping herself. No, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, so
she remained mute (or at least non-verbal) as he withdrew from her quivering cunt.
          But he didn't go far. He shifted just a bit and shifted his grip on the ropes, and then she felt his
hands holding her by the cheeks of her derriere, and then she again felt his cock, but at a new point of
entry.
          The pressure of his glans against her anus might have been more painful if he'd not used his
finger earlier to warm her up some. Helena had never taken a man this way, but that didn't mean she
was a stranger to anal. She simply had chosen to explore this part of sex in private with some personal
toys rather than share it with a lover.
          It seemed now she was going to discover if it was as good with a partner.
          She tried not to tense up, and she felt the head of his cock begin to open her back door wider to
gain entrance.
          The first sharp pang of pain made her gasp and want to tighten up in self-defense, but she
fought the instinct and did her best to stay relaxed. She took a deep breath through her nose, then blew
it out through her pursed lips as she consciously willed herself to not fight.
          And then there was a brief stab of agony that pushed her so close to the edge of la petite mort,
and she gave a cry to be so close and still miss the moment.
          Then he pushed forward and she felt him slide within her, filling her up so much, making her
belly flutter in response...
          And then it hit and she threw back her head and shouted.
          It was incroyable! The divine blend of pain and pleasure that made both insignificant alone.
She felt her body tense and squirt at the sensation he created, shaking her uncontrollably as she danced
and jerked like a marionette suspended in air.
          She had no idea what it would feel like when he began to move, but she found out quickly.
Her cries were of a woman transported to someplace she'd only hoped to find some day, having
to learn entirely new kinds of pleasure that freely mixed so seamlessly with the pain that accompanied
it.
          Though her eyes were closed, her mouth instinctively sought his, and when they met she
opened her lips to him, telling him without any words that she wanted it to never end. She wanted to
hang here and be his perfect anal fuck toy so long as he made her feel like this.
          The call of “Twenty-five minutes!” came and went unheeded by both of them as Helena simply
hung there and reveled in him fucking her ass this way, and she ejaculated again and again, sobbing in
her agonizing joy.
          She lost count of the times she came, the entire experience taking on a dream state long before
the call of “Thirty minutes! Helena, can you to continue?” went ignored.
          Quinn wasn't about to simply stop when time expired. If the lovely blonde impaled on his cock
didn't call it quits, he was more than happy to keep plundering her magnificent derriere. A woman who
gave herself over so totally to her pleasure like this wasn't something to rush. Each time she cried out
in climax, he had to push down his desire to just let go and fill her greedy backside with his semen, but
not yet... not yet.
          They were nearing the forty minute mark when Helena began showing signs of tiring. There
was only so long a woman could stay at this level of pleasure before her body couldn't keep up any
longer, her muscles spent, her reserves drained.
          Quinn felt her trembling take on a different quality. She was still in climax, but her trembling
had taken on a weakness, and he knew she'd reached her limits.
          He tried to drive her to the edge one last time, his strokes shaking her now and she sobbed in
return, unsure what would happen if she kept going but happy to find out. The change in his rhythm
told her without words what was going to happen, and she wondered if it could be any better than what
she'd already experienced.
          He mashed her lips beneath his own and he made a feral kind of growl into her mouth as his
hips drove him deep into her trembling abdomen, and then she felt it... he jabbed into her and there was
a warm, wetness spreading within her, finally giving her the one thing she'd never known, filling her
ass with his slick gratification.
          And her body reacted with one last, massive paroxysm of pleasure, bucking and spraying and
crying out all at once as she found that yes, there was something more.
          And then she went limp, unable to process that “something more” and slipping away into
unconsciousness.
          The observers all smiled and nodded knowingly. They were all actually surprised to see the
haughty blonde last as long as she did.
          As Quinn untangled himself from his unconscious partner and the ropes, he looked up at Mika,
and the young blonde in pigtails responded with a huge smile, a wink, and a wiggle, wordlessly
suggesting that if he weren't too tired, perhaps he'd be willing to show her what Helena had discovered.

          The official text read: “DOUGLAS UNRESPONSIVE AT 30 MINS WITHOUT DECISION. WINS 500K.”
