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Old 02-Aug-20, 14:42
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Default Re: It's his party and they'll cry if they want to (Maledom)

Chapter Two

When Britney regained consciousness, she was seated on a chair, just outside the ring. It was not a gentle awakening, the bruises to her face stung like the ringing of a bell which would not be silenced. Someone, she assumed Lauren, had removed her gloves, presumably to make it easier for Britney to tend her own injuries. A bucket of cold water and a sponge had been placed alongside the chair. Reaching down, Britney ignored the bucket and went straight for her purse, pulling out her smartphone. Turning on the camera, Britney surveyed the damage to her cheeks, nose, lips and eyes. Fighting back the immediate instinct to start sobbing at the battered image of herself that was looking back at her, Britney focused those feelings into anger.

That dumb kid had cost her at least a month's income. Sure, with her impeccable make-up skills she could cover the worst of the bruising, enough to get by in everyday life. And photoshop could restore her perfect face for her Instagram. But any video work would definitely be on hold, and a few lucrative advertising companies would definitely have second thoughts if Britney arrived at the shoot, looking as she did now.

Despite the physical pain, along with financial the losses that would now ensue, Britney consoled herself that Lauren was up next. No part of Britney believed Lauren could possibly succeed where she had failed. But maybe, with a little encouragement from the sidelines, Britney could spur the boy on to make this round last a little longer. Sure, that would mean Lauren would have suffer a bit more, but it might also tire the kid out. Then Britney would demand a second round against him dish out some much needed payback.

Glancing towards the ring, Britney was pleased to see she had not missed any of the fight. Noah and Lauren were standing in the centre of the canvas, facing one another. From Britney's vantage point looking up into the ring, the height difference between Lauren and the smaller Noah was even more obvious. Britney felt a mix of anger and shame overwhelm her. How the hell had this little rookie put her down so damn easy? "I was too soft on him" muttered Britney under her breath, and finally reached for the sponge and water to begin nursing her many, many bruises.

In the ring, Lauren did not try to intimidate Noah. What would be the point, she surmised. After his destruction of Britney, he would clearly be full of confidence. And that was exactly what Lauren wanted. Let him be the cocky one this time, and Lauren would counter anything Noah threw at her. As they faced off, Britney gave the word to begin. Lauren kept her eyes fixed on Noah's boxing gloves, her gaze unflinching. Even the sight of Britney's blood, which now stained much of the surface of Noah's gloves, did not break her resolve. Lauren was waiting for a movement. Any movement. When the punch came, it would be anticipated, evaded and countered. Lauren was ready.

Noah's heel cracked into Lauren's jaw with enough force to loosen teeth. Staggering backwards from the power of the kick, Lauren tasted blood on her tongue. Wait, said a panicked voice inside her head. This isn't how this was supposed to go. Indifferent to Lauren's careful planning, Noah pressed his advantage. Closing the gap between them, Noah turned a full three-hundred-sixty degrees, coming out of the spin with a devastating backfist that caught Lauren flush on the left side of her face and sent her sprawling away again.

"Uhnn... N-No. This is wrong," slurred a confused Lauren, "You have to let me -" If Lauren's intention had been to finish her sentence with "- repeatedly hit your boxing gloves with my face", then she was very much in luck. With a steadying arm against Lauren's back to prevent her from stumbling away again, Noah used his right glove to drill jab after jab after jab after jab into the centre of Lauren's gradually reshaping face. Without hesitation, Noah switched his attack to Lauren's gut, firing an identical staccato of punches deep into Lauren's belly. With her nose already bleeding, the stomach-churning strikes caused Lauren to grunt and retch, creating a tsunami of blood, snot and drool running down her face.

In her front row seat, Britney looked on in utter disbelief. Although she had already been a recipient of Noah's brutality, it was an entirely different experience to actually witness it. Much of what had happened to Britney in the ring was already a blur, vague memories formed only by the feelings of intense pain and fear that she associated with them. But to watch Noah in action, to see his combination of fluid skill and relentless barbarism, Britney found herself equal parts impressed, resentful and slightly traumatised.

Lauren's gloved fists hung loosely by her sides, her arms dangling like vines in a breeze. Noah placed his own gloves on Lauren's shoulders, a gesture that might have seemed like he was comforting her, though only to anyone that didn't know better. Lauren wasn't sure what was coming next. Still both dazed and winded from Noah's previous onslaught, she dreaded taking another strike to the head or gut. And in that regard, Noah was at least accommodating. He drilled his knee between her thighs with such force, the reason he had held Lauren's shoulders was immediately apparent. It had been to stop her potentially hitting her head on the gymnasium ceiling.

If a scream is a reaction to pain and a wail is a response to more emotional suffering, the noise Lauren made might best be described as a "scrail". She made no effort to fight back the tears which began to stream down her face, washing away some of the blood and leaving two clear vertical trails on both of her cheeks. As the agony in her crotch spread throughout her whole body, the only other sensation was aware of were Noah's gloves, still holding her shoulders firmly. Lauren knew what that meant. She was already screaming in anticipation when Noah's knee powered into her pussy again. And this time, he didn't stop. Noah hammered his knee against her tender lips, over and over again. Holding Lauren securely in place as he did so ensured that the energy of each knee-strike would not be dissipated in any way except directly into her crotch.

From ringside, Britney watched Noah's brutal onslaught with some concern. Not for Lauren, of course. As far as Britney was concerned, Lauren should have expected this. After all, if the kid had managed to get a few lucky shots in on as someone as skilled herself, then Lauren clearly wasn't in his league. Britney's worry was that this round was going to be over too soon and she still needed time to... not recover, she told herself... but just some time to think of all the things she was going to do to Noah the next time she faced him. "Hey, dork!" she called out. "Is that all you've got?"

There was no pause in Noah's assault. Each knee was delivered just as brutally as the last, Noah seeming to relish the sensation so much that he simply had to do it again. And again. And again. It was a pattern of behaviour familiar to anyone who has ever used the phrase "OK, just one more." And in such a loop of pleasure, it was unlikely Noah would be stopping any time soon.

Way past the point of being capable of screaming, Lauren's responses to Noah's knee strikes had become a guttural retch, choked gasps which occasionally interrupted her constant and piteous sobbing. Noah's knee thudded into her cunt again, crashing into a network of overworked nerve endings which were all vying for immediate attention in the pain centre of Lauren's brain. Soon even Lauren's grunts had begun to fade, as though she had resigned herself to the agony each impact created. Her whole face seemed to sag too, to lose all of its colour. As her skin grew paler, it provided an even starker contrast against the deep red streaks of blood still steadily pumping from her disfigured nose.

Lauren was not given the benefit of a demeaning comment or a patronising speech. Anything that might have given her a few precious seconds of peace, a moment to be alone with the pain she was already suffering, without the acquisition of yet more. Finally releasing his hold on her shoulders, Noah stepped back. Before she could fall, Noah unleashed a flurry of face-kicks, smearing his soles with Lauren's blood and drool as they pulverised her features. For two full minutes, Noah's feet ravaged Lauren's face, crushing her nose, twisting her lips and distorting her face into expressions that were sometimes comedic, sometimes horrific and frequently both.

Britney watched the onslaught closely, the speed of Noah's fast feet pummelled Lauren's face with such speed and precision that the action became a blur. It was only when Noah's kicking frenzy finally ceased that Britney was able to get a good look at her friend. And take a good look she needed to, because under any other circumstances, Britney doubted she would have recognised the disfigured shell in the ring. The blood from Lauren’s nose now ran all the way down her neck and chest, branching off into smaller tributaries around her defined abdominal muscles. Had Lauren owned an instagram page, Britney was convinced that no amount of make-up or photo-editing would be able to salvage the mangled arrangement of features that were now Lauren's face.

Unlike Britney, Lauren had never put much stock in physical appearance. For Lauren, what mattered was her brain. However, at this point, there was very little to differentiate between Lauren's physical state and the condition of her mind. Certainly conscious thought was long past her current capabilities. She could only feel. She felt the blood running down her face and body. She felt every throbbing bruise in her cheeks and jaw. She felt the pulsating, aching throb in her pussy, which exploded with agony again every time that she moved, even just slightly. She felt Noah's heel smash into his chin and felt her brain physically shake inside her skull.

And then she felt nothing.

Lauren's body stiffened as she fell back, her body remaining rigidly straight as it plummeted towards the canvas. As a result of her position when he fell, Lauren's back landed atop the bottom rope, catching her like an accidental trapeze artist. Her arms hung limply behind him over the ropes, her head lolling backwards. By chance, Lauren had come to rest directly in front of Britney's seat. A look of discomfort crossed Britney's face as her battered friend's sightless pupils rolled back, leaving only the whites of Lauren's eyes staring vacantly towards her.

In the ring, a triumphant but unsurprised Noah surveyed his latest practice dummy. Lauren's prone position meant the soles of her feet were now facing Noah. "Oh, so that's what they look like," said the young warrior, addressing his unresponsive opponent. "I imagine you already got a very good look at mine." Lauren remained still, save for her legs which would twitch and jolt at regular intervals, an apparent result of her brain attempting to reboot.

Whilst the majority of Lauren’s body was limp and flaccid, Britney’s eyes were drawn to one area where the opposite of that was in full effect. Noah’s speedo seemed even more defined than before, the contents as visible through the stretched material was an obviously wrapped Birthday gift. The impressive sight gave Britney an idea. However fast and skilled he may have been, Noah was still a horny teenager. And Britney knew exactly how to deal with those.

Resting on the ropes, Noah now turned his full attention back to Britney. "Round Two, then?" asked the teen. "Or do you need another minute. Or hour? Or a few weeks and hospital treatment maybe?"

Britney rose to her feet defiantly, using every ounce of her will-power not to display even the slightest hint of the discomfort she still felt. "I'm good," she said through gritted teeth." And this isn't over. But how about we raise the stakes?"


"Winner takes loser. Anything goes."

"Sure OK," responded Noah, nonchalantly. "That works for me."

"And why's that?" asked Britney, her bravado faltering.

"Well, because that means I can stop going so easy on the two of you."
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