Hello, I write short stories for friends that take place in a sexfighting club. We all have personnas-- some are fighters, some are sponsors. It is a roleplaying game we like to play, sharing stories. I thought others might enjoy them. Here's one. Hope you enjoy it. If you do, and would like me to write one for you, let me know. I would happy to do that. (I'm also available for roleplaying.)
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At Club Taboo, there is a locked door that requires a gold card to enter. You show the card to the large man standing in front of it, and he unlocks the door.
You walk up the stairs to the second floor, above the dancing and music below. At the top of the stairs, you enter a small room where a blindfolded woman offers you a mask. Then, you step into a long, circular hallway with one-way mirrors.
The glass looks in on a custom made wrestling ring. Instead of boards covered with canvas, you see a large mattress covered in silk. Inside the ring are two women—one brunette and one red-head—struggling naked, their legs and arms entwined. Their hips move together, both desperate to find an advantage.
The brunette pulls the red-head’s hair and she gasps. The brunette plunges her teeth and tongue against the red-head’s collarbone, and the red-head nearly screams. The red-head puts one hand behind her, catching herself from falling. The brunette’s teeth are against her neck now. The red-head tries to pull the brunette back by the hair, but she’s got too much leverage. The brunette swats aside the arm holding the red-head up, and she falls, her shoulders hitting the mattress.
The brunette’s hands find the red-head’s wrists and lock them down. Their hips grinding, one stronger than the other. The brunette wraps her legs around the red-head’s left leg and pulls the red-head’s right arm down. She lifts the red-head’s left leg up high, locking her in.
“It’s only a matter of time now,” the brunette says, smiling. Sweat drips into her eyes, but she blinks it away.
“No!” the red-head gasps, but her voice has no strength, only desperation.
“Yes,” the brunette purrs. “You’ll break. You’re breaking now. I can feel it.”
The red-head’s eyes were closed, but she opens them now, staring at the brunette. “I’ll beat you, bitch,” she spits at her. “I’m not finished yet.”
But the brunette grinds faster and the red-head’s back arches. Under the brunette’s wrists, her hands grasp at the silken sheets. The red-head pushes her hips high, hoping to break the lock, but her strength is failing. Every thrust she makes gives strength to her enemy, rather than taking it.
Now, the red-head’s gasps are desperate. Her hips move of their own accord. She has lost all control.
“No!” she screams. “No!”
“Give it to me,” the brunette teases. “Give me the pretty surrender they all want to see.”
“No!” the red-head screams. “I won’t! I won’t!”
The brunette leans down and gently kisses the red-head’s lips. “How much did your sponsor spend to train you? What kind of promises did he make? Did he tell you that you could beat me? Did he?”
“You bitch,” the red-head whimpered. “Don’t do that! Please!”
The brunette laughed. “Please?” She released the red-head’s wrists and her hands fell limply beside her. “You’ve nothing left.” The brunette rose up, arched her back high above her foe and said, “Let me show you real strength.”
The brunette’s hips moved, faster and more powerful than ever before. She didn’t need to hold down the red-head. Her hips tried to match the brunette’s, but they were so weak. So helpless.
Within seconds, the red-head’s surrender sounded from her lips. She grasped the sheets with her fingers, squeezing them tight. She screamed, “Oh, Rowan! I’m finished! I’m finished!” Her hips bucked hard and the brunette laughed as they did, her back arched, her long hair falling over her slick, naked back in a final sign of victory.
The red-head’s body collapsed under the brunette, their skin slick and shining under the lights. The red-head trembled and the brunette stood over her, looking down.
A door opened and a masked figure stepped forward. He took the brunette’s hand in his and kissed it. “My Rowan,” he said. “My beautiful victor.”
