Chapter 12 - On Dominance: Poison


                                                    On Dominance

                                                        by Volpone

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

                                                 Chapter 11: Poison

          There were a number of reasons behind who Quinn had chosen as competitors for his challenge.
None of them were there purely on looks alone. In the world of hentai video vixens, good looking
women were the norm, not the exception. Rather, most were there because of how sexually excited
they were over the idea of full erotic contact bouts. Some others were there not only because they were
receptive to the idea of what amounted to erotic combat but were also had a personality or quality that
Quinn found particularly appealing like Mika's exuberance or Christie Montiero's fierce loyalty to
friends and family. Several he picked because he wanted a genuine challenge such as Angel and Ayane.
          Then there were those he picked simply because he wanted to face someone he didn't need to
feel badly about giving them a lesson in humility such as Candy Cane or Karin.
          Poison was there for several reasons. She was certainly attractive in a physical sense, with long
legs and a very pronounced set of curves (she was about five-foot-nine and her figure was 34C-25-35,
though that really fell short of how well that was presented), but she was far too impressed with her
own looks to ever appeal to Quinn for that reason. But she also had an unorthodox style of fighting
with some strange kind of distance attack that seemed to border on metaphysical that he was wanting to
test out to see if his p.a. web was up to the task of keeping him safe.
          On the other hand, she was also a shameless self-promoter, willing to do most anything to bring
in a bigger audience... a bigger purse. He had her pegged as a classic narcissist and more than willing
to use her sex appeal to gain an advantage over her competitors. Add to that her clear enjoyment in
inflicting pain on another person and she was at the top of Quinn's list of fighters who needed to be
taken down a peg.
          She stood there, dressed in the only costume Quinn had ever seen her wear: a dark peak cap
with chain around the crown, a white ripped crop tank top, micro “Daisy Duke” jean shorts so brief
they were virtually a denim thong, and high heels. Hooked at her waist were a pair of metal handcuffs
and she carried a leather riding crop that she now held, tapping it against her opposite palm while
looking over at Quinn, clearly thinking this would have some unnerving or intimidating effect on him.
It only made him more sure in his choice.
          “I assume you're choosing to bring a weapon into the ring,” he observed, nodding to her crop.
“That means I can as well. Your rival often uses a staff, I believe. Would that be acceptable to you?”
          She smiled with clear condescension.
          “Honey, you are gonna need a lot more than that, but whatever makes you feel better,” she told
him, and she bent over at the waist, running her hand down her leg and showing off her cleavage.
          Until today, only Candy Cane had truly come in for being taught a lesson by Quinn. Today, he
figured it was time for someone else to join her.
          If she doesn't intend to get fucked, she'd going about this the wrong way.
          Quinn leaned over the rope and asked Mika, “Would you do me a favor and please hand me the
staff over there next to her handbag?” He then leaned closer and whispered something to her that no
one else could hear.
          Mika nodded and went over to bring back his quarterstaff, Slapstick. Of course, Slapstick was
far from a normal quarterstaff, but Quinn decided he'd not use any of the special functions it had built
in. That wouldn't accomplish anything but make the bout the quickest on record as a quick shot with a
high setting pressor beam would knock her right out of the ring as soon as Kasumi called for them to
start, and where would be the fun in that? This was martial arts, not a weapons demonstration.
          Taking the staff from the blonde observer, Quinn thanked her and gave her another wink which
made Mika smile and stifle a giggle as she returned to her spot.
          Reiko walked over to her fellow observer and asked, “So, is Quentin doing anything to
influence your neutrality? I mean to influence it any more than what we saw during your match?”
          It wasn't an accusation. They all had enjoyed losing to Quinn because he made losing so much
more than winning any regular match. Her only personal disappointment in retrospect was that he'd not
chosen to show her what anal was like with him. As he'd done it with every other contestant so far
(she'd been watching), she wondered if there was something about her that made him treat her
differently. At the time it hadn't mattered, but now she couldn't help but wonder. He certainly made it
look like a lot of fun. She'd still have been happy to find out first hand.
          “Of course not!” Mika replied. “You know he doesn't try to do anything like that. He just
asked a favor that I swear has nothing at all to do with the match.”
          Reiko leaned close and asked in a hushed tone, “Did you make a date with him after the
match?” She wasn't upset at the thought. She was just surprised if that were true since it would
certainly call Mika's neutrality as an observer into question. It would, on the other hand, give Reiko
and excuse to approach Quinn about finding out what she'd missed during their match.
          “Silly!” the blonde replied. “It's more of a... kinda security issue,” she explained.
Reiko accepted the explanation but was still very curious to learn what this mysterious “security
issue” entailed.
          Kasumi looked at her fellow observers and they both went to others sides of the ring for the
beginning of the bout.
          “Are the fighters ready? Begin!”
          The pink-haired temptress sashayed towards Quinn with an over-blown sway of her hips,
looking much more like she belonged on a pole than in a ring.
          Quinn stood there, relaxed, waiting to see how long the naughty and nonthreatening act lasted.
          “Let's have some fun,” she said, as if offering something much more pleasurable than a fight.
          She got about to center ring when her riding crop snapped out almost as if she were swinging a
tennis racket. As she did, an arc of some kind of force or energy was generated from the end of her
crop and it sped towards Quinn right at chest height. It traveled at about the speed of a well-thrown
softball, probably seventy miles per hour or so.
          He had no clue if it would make any difference, but Quinn kicked his web to its second setting
to help insulate him, and as he did he swung Slapstick into the path of the approaching wave. As they
met, he felt his staff strike something tangible but not solid... perhaps a wave form of some type. It had
the feeling of him hitting a water balloon or similar giving surface. Whatever it was, Slapstick didn't
absorb it as it would electrical or electromagnetic energy, but it did disrupt it enough that its impact was
about like that water balloon it felt like, enough to feel it hit but not enough to bother him or slow him
down. It all happened in a couple of tenths of a second, far too fast to perform a lot of analysis but
enough to let him know he wasn't dealing with some kind of magical force.
          Before the wave had even hit, Poison gave a “Hi-ya!” kiai yell and went into an impressively
high forward flip, her point of rotation as high as Quinn's shoulder, bringing her foot down in a
descending strike with plenty of power to do damage if it landed solidly.
          But Poison was a linear fighter, her attacks and rotation all being in a line with her target. Her
style was all forward/backward, high/middle/low, and so she was ill-prepared for Quinn's lateral
movement out of her strike path, and Slapstick came in just over her descending leg in a short strike to
catch her in the stomach. It wasn't a big swing and so didn't have too much force, but it caught the
spinning woman unsuspecting and she over-rotated her landing to come down on her feet but pitched
forward onto her hands as well. He thought he might have knocked the wind out of her but it seemed
not as she exclaimed, “Jerk!” as she recovered her feet quickly.
          Quinn moved around to face his opponent from the other side, and as Poison got back to her
feet and turned to face him, Mika seemed to back up to gain a better view and bumped into the front
row of seats. She turned and grabbed the handbag sitting there to stop it from tipping onto the floor,
and she carefully set it back in the seat... after turning it around a half turn before setting it down. It
was odd behavior had anyone been watching, but it went unnoticed, just as Quinn had asked her to do.
          As this was going on, Quinn was recalling how in some videos of her matches, Poison seemed
to build up momentum until she had harnessed enough energy and could unleash some kind of special
attack, so he intended to keep her from reaching that point.
          She tried a couple of low kicks to try to sweep his feet, but once he almost brought his foot
down on her ankle before she could recover and the other he rapped her in the back of the knee with his
staff while her leg was extended, giving her a bit of a limp and weakening her leaping ability. She
came back immediately with another crop attack, but unlike her game rival, Quinn had no hesitancy to
block her strikes with his quarterstaff.
          It seemed this was frustrating for the pretty egotist, and she decided to try another high move...
a forward flip where she came down with her legs over her opponent's shoulders, one on each side of
their neck, and by continuing the flip into another rotation, she would take her challenger over
backwards into their own flip and slam them to the ground face down. It was a devastating move when
it worked. Perhaps she liked it because it also put her crotch into the face of her foe in the process and
she liked the symbolism of it.
          She went into her forward flip, positioning her legs to land on his shoulders, but she came
around and spread her legs just in time to have Quinn lift Slapstick up in front of him at a backward
angle so her parted legs went on each side.
          It was a good thing her impact was with side of the staff instead of the tip or she might have
needed hospitalization, but as it was her momentum mashed her labia into the quarterstaff as Quinn
ducked under her attack. He hadn't swung the staff or even held it that firmly, but it still resulted in
Poison landing in a heap, her eyes wide in pain as she clutched her agonized vagina and fought not to
scream.
          All three of the onlookers flinched, Reiko actually turning aside a moment. They'd all seen
impacts like that in the ring, but that didn't make them any less sympathetic to see it happen, even to
someone as unsympathetic as Poison.
          Kasumi's eyes flicked to the digital timer for the match, and noted that they were less than two
minutes into the bout.
          The pink-haired woman stayed on the canvas but was still moving, so Kasumi was wondering if
she intended to keep going.
          “Poison, can you continue?”
          The fighter waved the hand holding her riding crop, indicating she meant to go on. (For a shot
at a million dollars and the publicity she intended to wring out of this match, she'd put up with more
pain than this.)
          She staggered to her feet (she could normally kip up but not feeling like she did at the moment)
and Quinn gave her a chance to recover for a moment. The worst of the pain had passed quite quickly,
but the more he thought she was in trouble, the less he'd expect her next attack.
          As soon as she was again ready, she leaned forward as if having trouble standing, but she turned
it into a sudden charge, her arm rising with the crop so she could slash him with the leather tongue
(called a “keeper”) at the striking end before he was prepared.
          Unfortunately for Poison, Quinn was already prepared for some kind of ruse, and he was
moving the moment she was and he clotheslined her with his arm held horizontally, catching her
solidly right across both breasts before she even had a chance to swing her weapon. It wasn't an
elegant counter-attack, but it did the job in the moment.
          It felt to her like she'd run into a crossbar or a rather unyielding pipe with her chest though his
arm was much thicker and spread out the force so it was more shock and discomfort than injury that
occurred (though her boobs disagreed with that assessment at the moment).
          The pink-tressed promoter stood there hurting a moment, then whispered to herself, “Fuck me,”
in an attempt to express the ache now radiating from her crotch and chest.
Usually fighting in noisy venues in front of an audience, she hadn't intended it to carry, but this
arena was largely quiet and Quinn's hearing good.
          “Not yet, but I'm sure we can come to an arrangement,” he responded as if her exclamation had
been an offer.
          She ignored his smart-ass comment while wishing him a painful and lingering disease as she
hugged her favorite chest (namely her own) in an attempt to fight off the discomfort, bowed but not
beaten, already thinking of some way to gain the upper hand.
          Standing there breathing heavily, her head down and her hands on her knees, Poison glanced up
just far enough to see where his feet were so she could target her strike.
          Without rising, her arm swung in a backhand swing and another arc of force flew at him from
her crop, Poison standing abruptly and charging in following her attack to get close enough for a
combo or a series of rapid forehand & backhand strikes with the crop at point-blank range. It would
lack some of the power if she'd built up her energy first, but hitting first and then worrying about hitting
harder later seemed the best course for now.
          Her attack starting from a low position as it did, she was rising as she charged in, and so she
saw the end of the staff plant on the canvas in front of her, her view coming up high enough just in time
to see the soles of his feet inches from her face.

          Poison came to in a crouching position, the throbbing in her head clearing away enough for her
to begin processing her condition. She was still dizzy, and she realized she must have been
unconscious.
          Shit! The match!
          She normally might have attempted playing possum for a few moments to see if she could
sucker him in close enough while he still believed her to be out cold, but then she realized why she was
in the position she was. Her hands were secured with her own handcuffs, her arms extended and the
short chain between the cuffs under the turnbuckle in the corner of the ring, locking her in position.
Just a bit of trying to move her legs informed her that both ankles were also secured, and when she
opened her eyes, she saw each was tied to a different bottom rope a couple of feet from the corner using
her own clothes. This put her ankles about three feet apart, leaving her in a rather undignified position.
She still wore her shoes and hat, but of her crop there was no sign.
          Then Quinn's voice informed her casually, “In case you're wondering, the match ended a couple
of minutes ago when you didn't respond to a status check.”
          She stood so she wasn't displaying herself quite so blatantly and leaned over to the ropes to her
left so she could turn to see him.
          “If the match is over, why am I in this position?”
          Quinn moved over and leaned on the ropes to her right to put himself close enough for her to
not crane her neck to talk.
          “Well, honestly some people tend to wake up swinging so I thought I'd play it safe. Also, a
couple of the ladies before you decided to keep going after the match was officially over for, shall we
say, personal reasons. I thought I might offer you the same option.”
          Her mind went into high gear trying to calculate the angles here, and thinking of the video she
had recording the proceedings, she decided to see if she could get something incriminating on him.
She wasn't above some blackmail, and it would be simple to use the recording as leverage to get him to
cough up the four-hundred-thousand she should have gotten for making it to thirty minutes. Then
again, if he paid that, he'd likely pay the full million if he had the kind of cash to finance this little ego
trip of his, and then he'd just have to keep on paying. Business men tended to want to look respectable
and fucking a woman who was restrained without her permission in a closed arena while three other
female fighters looked on and did nothing would certainly be some good leverage. Hell, she could
probably blackmail all four of them if she pulled this off. The only question was how to manage it.
Maybe she could just get some computer geek to strip the sound file from the recording and make it
look like a rape. She could probably just give some dweeb who followed her on social media a blow
job and he'd do it without thinking about why she'd want it.
          Okay, technically there was a “no recordings” clause in the contract stating that she'd forfeit any
prize money if she attempted to record any match including her own. It hadn't registered until days
later when the rumors started flying about just how much erotic contact was going on during these
matches, and then she realized why the “no recordings” stipulation in the contract. It was also what
convinced her he was concerned with blackmail. (She was mistaken, but you would never convince
her of that any longer. She saw dollar signs and began planning.)
          “Well, I guess you have me at a disadvantage,” she responded with comically artificial concern.
“Being tied up and defenseless like this, I guess you could do just absolutely anything you wanted to
me, and I'd never be able to stop you.”
          Quinn nodded easily, playing along with her. He reached behind himself and pulled out her
riding crop from the back of his belt, flexing it and then tapping it into his hand just as she had at the
beginning of the match. “I guess I could at that.”
          Oh, shit... I hadn't considered that, she thought, but didn't let it stop her. He'd just have to pay
more when she started squeezing him.
          He went on, playing right into her blackmail scenario perfectly. “If you want to get out of here
unharmed, I guess you'll have to make sure I'm very, very happy.”
          Standing, he moved around and started teasing her with the crop, running the keeper over her
ass... down between her legs on the inside of her thighs... then up to the junction and over her labia... up
between the round cheeks of her ass and across her puckered little sphincter... on up across her lower
back... across her ribs and then up higher so he could tease her breast with it... flicking it across her
pronounced nipple a couple to times very gently...
          Poison mentally got herself prepared. She fucking hated pain except when she was giving it to
someone else. The last guy she took home who suggested she let him play the master and she could be
his sexy slave ended up with a couple of welts that needed medical attention. But this was important if
she wanted to pull this off.
          Thinking of a few million reasons to do this, she pulled her shoulders back as if giving him a
better target by drawing his attention to her chest.
          “Really?” he asked, sounding surprised at her interest in a little S&M. (She was, but she'd have
really preferred to have Quinn cuffed like this. Then she'd show him was she could do with a crop.)
          The tongue of the crop flicked out, not hard but very accurately as it kissed her right nipple on
its way by, making her jump slightly at the brief sting as her nipple drew up very tight at the treatment.
It hadn't hurt badly... more surprised than anything else. But the thing that surprised her even more was
how her body reacted to it.
          The riding crop moved again, and her left nipple felt the bee sting sensation this time, shrinking
down and the tip standing up tight and proud.
          He purred in a voice that was soft but still threatening when combined with the motions of the
crop, “I can't leave you just standing there like that. I guess I should give you something to occupy
your time while I amuse myself. After all, little fuck toys need to keep their owners happy, don't they?”
          “Little fuck toys”? “Owner”? She was going to make this guy bleed once she was out of there!
Then she'd make him understand what it was like to be owned by someone. But she had to keep acting
if she was going to get him to do things that were worthy of blackmail.
          Then he stepped up on the rope and swung a leg over to the other side of her wrists, seating
himself on the padded assembly holding the ropes secure and moving his kilt out of the way.
          Damn! Well, it wasn't the biggest cock she'd seen, but it was big enough. And if it weren't
attached to this asshole she might even have chosen to enjoy it. As it was, she just needed him to think
she was.
          "Ooh, such a big, mean man! Making me do nasty things like this,” she pouted as she began to
lick. Honestly, giving head was nothing. She'd blown more men for favors than she could remember,
so one more was nothing new.
          Wanting him to be inspired to new and more disreputable actions, she started low, licking at his
balls and looking up at him greedily. (The greed came easily... just not the kind he thought.) She
opened wide and sucked each testicle into her mouth so she could bathe it with her soft tongue, all
while moaning like a bitch in heat. Then she turned her head to the side so she could put her lips and
tongue on the front of his hard cock and run then along the length several times, looking up at him
occasionally to gauge his reaction.
          He seemed mildly amused but certainly not as happy as a man she was doing this to should be.
This was her A-game cock sucking, and she'd made men come from just this before, but this jerk
looked like he might be watching an old sitcom rerun.
          She started to get more active, bathing the entire length of him with her clinging tongue, her
saliva running down his shaft and occasionally dripping off his balls. Then she reached the head and
she took the head of his tool into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before she started down, and
she tossed her head slightly as her lips slid slowly downwards until she had him pushing at the back of
her throat. Let the asshole be bored about this!
          The sudden pain of the crop on the outside of her left breast made her freeze a moment and she
nearly bit down, but she had too many years of experience (or rather packed way too much experience
into the years she'd been doing this) to react that way. That would pretty well shoot any idea of
blackmail, so instead she paused a moment and then tossed her head and gave a moan around his rod,
closing her eyes and picturing him handing over a million dollars in a briefcase... only to find out it was
the first of many such payments she'd be demanding of him.
          That idea got her excited, and she used that to inspire herself, sucking harder and taking him
down until he was hitting the back of her throat each time. She's lost her gag reflex before her fifteenth
birthday, so this shit was nothing.
          Then she jumped as the crop cracked against the outside of her right breast this time, and she let
herself give a whimper that wasn't faked, but she let it seem to be from enjoyment by her trying to
swallow his dick. In fact, if she got a bit better angle on him...
          She felt his hand on her hat, and then he removed her headwear and tossed the hat outside the
ring, then his hand was back but sliding into her hair behind her head and pulling her down more
forcefully.
          The head of his erection pushed harder against her throat, and he gave a slight flex to his hips
and then he made the turn, his dick making the trip like a fat man down a chimney, pushing its way
down and cutting off her air.
          And as he held her there, she heard the whistle of the crop and her left nipple jumped as it was
kissed hard by the keeper of her crop in his hand.
          Fuck, but that stung!
          It hadn't even relaxed from the last time, and his aim was fuckin' perfect, not catching anything
but the tanned tip that drew up tight and crinkled.
          She was starting to get a little concerned as he wasn't letting her up to breathe yet, and her lungs
were starting to burn.
          Another swish of the crop and he repeating his incredible aim by catching her other nipple as
precisely as the last, making her involuntarily try to draw back, but his hand at the back of her head
held her there with his cock down her throat acting as a stopper. She couldn't make a sound as she
couldn't get any air past her vocal cords like this, and the blood started to pound in her ears.
          Then he let her go just as the crop stung the inside of her right breast and made her flinch back,
and she gasped both in pain and to feed her aching lungs.
          And then he started pulling her down onto his cock rhythmically, fucking her mouth and Poison
discovered that she hadn't lost her gag reflex... she'd only trained it to shut up when she was in control.
She had no control here and the roughness of his irrumating her like this brought back what that reflex
was for... to protect her from choking.
          She started to fight for control again, not fighting the motion but trying to bring her reflexes
back into line with her demands, but when she did the damned crop would snap out and catch her
someplace. She could feel the way the welts were stinging well after the fact, knowing she had a
growing collection of bright pink marks from the kiss of her own crop, making her squirm and escape
while her mouth was violated by this fuckin' jerk who she intended to make pay for this shit big time!
          Then his next strike caught her on the cheek of her ass. It stung and burned after, and she
realize when she moved away from the pain that she was lubricating from the treatment. She wasn't
enjoying it but her body still was reacting as if she were. He continued to pull her head down onto his
cock, and she felt the gentle caress of the crop as he ran it over her cheek, reminding her that she was
slacking off on the job. Steeling herself to the treatment, she again started to suck and use her tongue
as he treated her mouth like his personal property. She found herself just wishing the jerk would just
come in her mouth and get it over with.
          Then he seized her by her pink hair and pulled her back off his throbbing shaft, leaving her
panting and stinging in a dozen places from where she'd been kissed by the riding crop.
          “That's enough of the preliminaries,” he told her, and when she looked up at him, the fucker
wasn't even breathing hard. That look of mild amusement was still there and she wanted to spit in his
face, but she made herself smile as if she was having a wonderful time and eager to continue, and all
the time the pile of money she intended to wring from him kept growing in her mind.
          He swung a leg over her head and dropped easily to the canvas, landing with surprisingly light
impact for a man who must have weighed at least one-hundred-eighty (it was actually one-eighty-five),
and she felt his fingers trace several of the welts he'd given her, making them burn even more at his
touch... at her breast... her nipples... her ass...
          Then he was standing behind her and she felt the head of his cock running along her labia, and
she thought, “Now, I'll have him for something he can't explain away.” Men with money always had
someone somewhere they didn't want to know about their kink, and this asshole had plenty of kink to
hide.
          Aloud, she swallowed to gain control of her voice, then said, “No, wait! You can't mean you're
going to... do that!” It was over-the-top and clearly bad acting, but all she needed was to get the
onlookers to confirm she'd said “No”. Rape charges didn't need to be true, just technically true.
          And the bastard actually stopped.
          “'No'?” he echoed as if surprised. He didn't sound upset or anything like that. He actually
sounded... he sounded like he was going to stop!
          She wiggled her ass at him slightly to try to get him to go on. Didn't the bastard recognize irony
when he heard it?
          “You wouldn't force a woman against her will, would you?” She said it as if she were doing
everything but taking out an ad in the Times saying “Woman Pleads with Captor to Be Fucked”.
          But he refused to bite.
          “Well, I thought we were just having a good time, but when a lady says 'stop'...”
          He moved around and reached for her handcuffs with the key.
          Poison saw millions of dollars evaporating before her eyes.
          Fuck it. She'd get the sound stripped from the video. The audio would probably suck from this
distance anyway.
          “No! Wait...” She paused a moment, then asked, “Is that it? You're just... done?” unable to
believe he'd just let her call it quits like that. After probably ten minutes of head and she knew he
hadn't popped, he'd probably end up with the worst case of blue balls on record, but he seemed willing
to just let her call it off even when she was being outrageously insincere.
          She had to bite the bullet.
          “Please... don't just stop. We're just playing... right?”
          He shrugged and replied reasonably, “Sorry, but when a woman says 'stop', you stop.”
          “So you're just going to leave me hanging?”
          He chose to misinterpret what she meant.
          “I'll get you lose right away,” he told her.
          The longer this went on, the harder it would be to convince someone that she was a victim.
          “No, when I said 'stop' I didn't mean I wanted you to really stop. I was just... playing.”
          “So you want me to go on?”
          She said meekly, “Yes.” Then after a couple of seconds pause, she added, “Please?”
          To be honest, she didn't realize how true it was until he'd stopped abruptly. In spite of hating
pain, it had been surprising how excited she'd become.
          He caressed her ass and she relaxed a bit.
          Then his fingers started to explore her exposed parts, and she gave a nice little moan as his
fingers slid inside her.
          And then the muscles of her pussy tightened instinctively as the crop stung her ass again, and
she rose onto her toes and trembled as she tried to bring herself back under control.
          His fingers disappeared and she settled back, relaxing both inside and out just in time for him to
step up and push his hard cock inside her abruptly.
          She shook again at the roughness of his penetration, and she dropped her head between her
outstretched arms.
          “Fuck!” she swore quietly, unable to suppress her vocal reaction completely but not wanting to
just shout it.
          The crop bit into her ass on the opposite side of his last lashing, and she clamped down on him
hard...
          And then came.
          “Ohhh... god!” she exclaimed, not realizing she was even close to an orgasm, let alone one like
that, and she shook strongly at the sudden sexual release that started between her thighs and then ran all
through her.
          Quinn smiled slightly and shook his head. He'd not even used his Talent on her.
          Sometimes you scratch a sadist and find a masochist underneath.
          He slipped the crop into his belt and leaned forward to get a grip on her breasts so he could pull
her back to him by them. It was fortunate that in her heels she was the perfect height for him this way,
and so he filled his hands with her very nice breasts (now decorated with several bright pink marks he'd
placed there) and he gave a firm squeeze and pulled her to him firmly until they met with a meaty slap.
          Using the grip he had, he kept her from going very far as he began stroking into her strongly,
sending a little wave through her ass each time their hips met, and she was moaning rapidly as her next
climax started building immediately, rising to the surface as she started chanting through clenched
teeth, “yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...” growing louder and higher as she went. Then as he drove he to the
edge, his fingers moved enough to trap her nipples between the knuckles of his fingers and mash them
firmly to the edge of pain.
          “Fuck!” she exclaimed again as she came and shook uncontrollably all over. It seemed this was
her favorite expression at that moment as she used it again several times in the next couple of minutes,
the last one making her come so hard she cut loose and ejaculated.
          Fuck me was right! I don't squirt, she thought to herself, clearly not able to believe what had
happened.
          But the women looking on clearly believed it as they all began applauding.
          Then he was pulling out and she thought perhaps she'd missed him coming inside her somehow.
          She'd been a bit preoccupied but she didn't think she'd been that far gone.
But now he was again pushing forward, and she was not prepared for his new target, a sharp
stab of sudden pain as the head of his cock pushed its way into her ass.
          Oh, god! That's not fun... not at all...
          Poison had done anal before. She'd done most everything before... more than once. But anal
she needed to build up to gradually, and then only when a certain mood was on her, and she always
instigated it.
          That hurts, that hurts, that hurts... she thought with each stroke of his thick tool into her ass as
she kept involuntarily clenching down on him, her body trying to reject the thing invading her by the
wrong entrance.
          She was not in the mood for anal right now, and he kept pulling her back by his hold on “the
twins”, and it wasn't fun at all. She was getting ready to call things off, money or not...
          Again she let out a “Fuck!” and she found herself jerking hard as she came, her pain masking
her rapidly approaching orgasm until it had arrived.
          She found herself bending slightly at the knees and leaning back in time with his grasping
fingers as they tugged her back onto him, the wet slapping sound of his hips meeting her firm ass in
time to the stabbing pain from her sphincter that was lying to her, telling her she shouldn't love it like
this.
          But she did. No matter how much she tried to convince herself she didn't, the cock in her ass
was even more convincing she did.
          She gritted her teeth and turned her head back around so she could look over her shoulder and
started softly snarling, “fuck me... fuck me... c'mon... fuck me...”
          Quinn had the overwhelming desire to ask her, “What do you think I'm doing? You think my
dick just happened to end up in your ass because I took a wrong turn at valet parking?” but kept the
smart-ass part of himself quiet.
          If he didn't want her running her mouth, he needed to do something about it and from this
location his options were limited.
          Poison figured she was enjoying getting her derriere drilled because Quinn was pushing the
limits. He demonstrated he wasn't pushing them anywhere near as far as he could.
          She felt his grip move, then he was yarding back and giving both her prominent points a hard
pull and twist, forcing her to arch her back up until her wrists were tight in their cuffs and she couldn't
move back any more. At the same time, he started pounding her ass savagely and all Poison could do
was stand there and cry out as he punished her ass.
          And she felt it building fast, the tension inside her as she wailed loudly, and as she felt his cock
jerk and eject its load into her rectum, she gushed violently all over the canvas beneath her, getting her
thighs partially as she sobbed out and came and came...
          And then went just as he was pumping the last of his cum into her grasping ass, she went limp
and sagged, her ass pulling off of his erection as she hung there by her wrists in the corner, a stream of
semen running from her slowly closing anus.

          Poison awoke laying on the canvas, a terrycloth robe draped over her, the sound of departing
voices growing dimmer as they went. She ached and could feel each welt from the sting of the crop.
Her nipples felt bruised and her anus... she didn't even want to think about how her anus was feeling
right now. She'd need to be moving very carefully for a while, that was for certain.
          The voices that were now gone must have belonged to Quinn and the observers. They'd all
simply wandered off and left her there alone without any concern about what might happen to her.
          She didn't consider the irony of being worried about what might happen to her after she'd just
been sodomized, whipped, and generally humiliated for the last half hour or so and all of it voluntarily.
In her current state, she wasn't feeling particularly consistent. Or forgiving.
          Her costume was all neatly laid aside complete with her hat, handcuffs and riding crop.
          Damned thing... she was tempted to burn it and get a new one after how it had been used on her.
          Actually, she thought back to a couple of nights she'd been in a mood and her partner for the
night had done something to trigger her, and she'd done far worse to them than Quinn had done to her.
Her marks would all be gone in a few hours... a day at the most. If she'd had Quinn cuffed after what
he'd done to her, she'd have laid him open to the bone if she could.
          Then she considered the wealthy man who'd arranged this whole challenge. He said he had ten
million on deposit at a bank for prize money? We'll, she'd just start with that once he saw the video she
had of him. How many of his business associates would want to do business with someone who raped
and tortured a woman who was chained up and unable to defend herself. She found herself anxious to
check her phone and see how the video had recorded.
          Gathering the robe around herself and picking up her things, she moved to the stairs at the
corner of the ring, wincing heavily as she tried to step between the ropes without causing any more
pain than necessary.
          She cringed her way to her purse in the front row, and she reached in to pick up her phone
which she had carefully set up in the top of her purse and aimed at the ring to get a record of the entire
match.
          Maybe she'd blackmail him for a while and then go on and send it to some big muck-raking
Internet site that would pay lots of money for a film like this. Even if he chose not to give in to her
blackmail, she could use the video to file a civil suit against him. It might be embarrassing but she
might also get awarded even more money that she might get blackmailing him. The thought of
millions upon millions of dollars eased the ache in her ass quite a bit, or at least made it feel
worthwhile.
          She checked the video and found it was still recording, so she stopped it and then hit the button
for playback.
          She watched everything happening from her leaving her phone recording to Quinn's entrance,
their opening comments (the sound was pretty bad, the acoustics being what they were, but she
intended to get rid of that anyway since it would work against her,) then the beginning of the match.
          Watching, she checked to see if she could make out his face well enough to identify him, and
yes, there he was acting so calm and smug.
          Everything was fine and she watched how he'd done remarkably well at defending himself. If
he hadn't been a better blackmail victim than a fighter, she'd have wanted to promote him. He was fast,
tough, and good. He'd certainly done well against her.
          She was hoping to see what happened after she was knocked out, but as she was watching, she
saw her first high kick attack and how he'd avoided it, and then he was facing the camera and she had
her back to it.
          And then the back of Mika got closer and closer, filling more and more of the image until the
phone jerked and was looking mostly towards the roof, but she could still see them in the ring from
about waist up...
          Until Mika moved the purse and turned it around so she had a lovely view of the inside of the
arena's ceiling. Of the match, there was no sign.
          The sound was much worse, too, as the phone was now deeper in her purse and aimed the
wrong way.
          She heard Kasumi ask if she could continue, and then repeat the question soon after, and then
there was basically nothing except muttered voices that couldn't be understood even at full volume.
          Hitting fast forward, there was no change and Poison watched her millions in blackmail payoffs
vanish in a puff of smoke.
          Finally, a hand reached into the purse and removed the phone... but it wasn't hers.
          It was a male hand.
          The face of the person aiming the camera was never shown, not that it would have mattered, but
the image continued as the phone was carried over to show in image of herself hanging naked in the
corner of the ring, but even unconscious, she was smiling. Welts showed luridly in the lighting of the
arena, and she could see cum dripping from her ass as she stayed there unmoving.
          Then a sheet of paper was held up so it showed her face next the the paper.
          “Please do not ignore clauses in contracts which prohibit recordings. Thank you.”
          Then the phone was returned to her purse in almost the precise angle it had viewing the ceiling
until she came a reached into her purse to turn it off.
          “SHIT!”
          Then her phone chimed and a text arrived:
          “POISON DEFEATED AT 2MINS 25SECS. FORFEITS PRIZE BY ATTEMPTING UNAUTHORIZED RECORDING.”
          She began swearing loudly and creatively, a furious rant involving Quinn and all the possible
things she could call him as she hit the Reply Text icon and typed in:
          “YOU ARE A MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD AND I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL”
          She looked at it a moment trying to come up with something more vindictive but was so upset
she finally just punched the Send icon.
          She sat there in the empty arena, still swearing under her breath, hoping perhaps for some
response from him. Now that she had vented her spleen a bit, she realized she was less angry with him
over what he'd done to her than she was over being caught and having it used against her to let him get
away with it. Basically, she was pissed at herself but willing to take it out on him if she had the chance.
          Suddenly it felt like the phone in her hand bit her and she dropped it to the arena floor just in
time to watch it literally burst into flames, the acrid smell of burning plastic in the air.
          Stunned, she sat there and watched as it was consumed as if by her reference to hell or the anger
she'd directed through it at the man who'd beaten her and then fucked her both figuratively and literally.
          The last thing rendered unrecognizable by the flames was the name of the phone's manufacturer:
          Samsung.

