The Women Must Submit to the Winner

The tension was palpable as the women quietly
murmured with small talk and subdued giggling.

The room was thick with the aroma of stimulated women; that sultry mixture of perfume, humidity, and the subtle but distinct scent of sexual promise. Nervous energy snaked through the gym like an electric eel, and the tension was palpable as the women quietly murmured with small talk and subdued giggling. About 20 young and vibrant women sat in uncomfortable wooden chairs in near darkness, trying desperately to hide the anticipation they held for the evening's program. For some it was a first time; but most had done this before, and their bodies craved the animal bloodsport.

A man in a dingy stripped referee's shirt milled about on a small stage, which was centered in the room and surrounded on all sides by the women. The stage was raised about 2 feet off the floor on simple concrete cider blocks, and was about 15 feet on each side. A high metalic chain-link fence surrounded the stage, and was topped with ominous looking razor wire. A gate was the only way in and out of the cage, and could be locked with a large steel pad lock. A heavy wood bench, about 3 feet long and a foot wide, was set in the middle of the cage.

Four sets of large construction lights hung from the ceiling at the corners of the stage, filling the stage with an intense, artificial glow. The bright lights sparkled off the shiny metal fence, and illuminated the dark stains scattered about the stage floor. There was no smoke in the room, but the lights caught the glimmer of the moving moisture in the air, giving the room an eerie-feeling of being alive.

A small steel door opened at one end of the gym, and a dim light escaped as the referee stealthfully left. Instantly, the room grew silent, and all eyes focused on the door. The veterans knew the show was about to start. In a few long seconds, the latch clicked loudly, and the door creaked as the referee push through it. The crowd let out a collective gasp, and they shot to their feet as two muscular men entered the gym. The women cheered and yelled as the ref lead the men into the cage, and had them stand, facing each other, near the center bench.

The men were tall and lean, their sweat glistening in the bright lights. Both wore only a pair of loose shorts: no shirt; no shoes; no gloves. They were powerful men; beautiful bodies and an alpha male attitude. They were winners, used to getting what they wanted, and when they wanted it. For one, the winning streak would end tonight.

The referee approach each man, and put a large black nylon strap around each, just under the arms. The ref pulled the strap snug, carefully positioning a large metal spring clip in the middle of eachs’ back. The ref moved each man in turn to a side of the cage, and snapped the clip to the wire fence. In this position, the men were totally defenseless.

The ref took a microphone as one of his assistants stood behind each of the men.

“Ladies,” he said as the room grew still again. “These men will fight to the finish, and are doing so just for the right to have one of you tonight. They get no money. No award. Just you. All your names are in this bowl, and the winner will pull one name, and that woman will submit to him.”

The ref turned to the fighters. “Gentlemen. There are no rules. There is no voluntary submission. And I will not stop the fight. The beating ends when the winner wants it to stop. At the count of three, my assistants will release you to fight.”

The crowd was in a frenzy as the fighters readied to battle. “One, Two, Three,” the crowd roared, and two young women released the men from their places. They attacked each other as rabid animals. Punching, kicking, and clawing. With each kick or punch, the room was filled with the loud smack as the blow landed, and then the guttural belch as the pain hit. They fought for twenty minutes, first one was pummeling, and then would be pummeled. Blood flowed from cuts and gashes, and both could barely see from their swollen eyes. The battle slowed to a death march, each just trying to save enough energy to keep standing

In the quiet desperation, the sounds of women enjoying themselves and each other could be heard over the animal noised of the men. A few of the women had their legs open and were fingering themselves, while several fingered the woman next to them. Every few seconds the air would be filled with the moans of ecstasy as one after another they came. The room alternated between the power grunts and painful retorts of the fighters, and the women’s erotic release.

Suddenly, spurred on by cum noises, one of the fighters perked up and did a flying round off kick, landing squarely in the middle of the other man’s face. Blood splattered through the fence, and the sound of breaking bone crackled through the gym. The women leapt to their feet, pulling up their panties, knowing the end was here. The man wobbled, and fell to his knees, and with a single motion the other dragged him to the fence and lifted him up. He held onto the metal clasp, and clipped it securely to the chain link. The winner staggered backwards, his knees buckling, and he bent over in total exhaustion.

"Andrea? The winner is ready for you."

The room was silent, except for the loser’s groans, and the breathless panting of the winner. All was quite for a minute. Suddenly the winner’s eyes turned to fire, and his face glowed with the victory he earned. He walked over to the loser, and stood tall in front of him. The loser looked with pathetic eyes, and whimpered as the winner took his fighting stance. The loser closed his eyes and winced as the punches started landing into his belly. Punch after punch crushed deep into his gut, until his breath was gone and he could not even cry out. Then the punches started side to side on the face, until his head bobbed and weaved like a plastic punching bag. And finally the loser felt the winner’s hands on his shoulders, and saw the winner standing squarely in front of him. The winner took a step back into a power stance, paused, and then, while pulling the shoulders towards him, brought his knee into the loser’s balls. Defenseless, not even able to bend over, the winner landed knee after knee into the groin, until the loser finally went limp.

The winner turned to face the cheering women, and the ref came into the cage with the bowl with the names. The winner reached in a pulled a name out.

“Andrea,” the ref said. “The winner is ready for you.”