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Old 04-Feb-21, 04:03
Korn Korn is offline
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Default SFL: No Surrender

This story follows on from @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]’s excellent story, Tales of the Sex Fighting League, specifically the match between Dan Danger and The Machine. Read that story and that match to understand the background for this offshoot. Thanks to @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] for letting me write in his world, and also check out @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]’s SFL: The Return and @[Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]’s Sexfighting Rivals.

(Note: while they were fun to write, the SFL/ECL crossover stories I’ve previously published in this forum were not made with the benefit of coordination with other SFL writers, and as such are not considered ‘canon’ for the purposes of this story. However, the SFL and ECL are still considered to take place in the same universe and ECL characters may appear here as the story requires.)

Without further ado, we’ll start with an alternate ending for Nia’s debut match against Dan...

The real bitch of it was how easy it would have been for it all to go differently.

I thought back to the match, to its ending. I’d told Dan that I didn’t hold it against him that he’d done what he felt was necessary to achieve victory, and I stood by that. But it still hurt, to have choked—literally—at the last possible moment. My head filled with daydreams of the victory that could have been...

...Dan wasn’t trying to knock me out. He kept the hold just tight enough to deprive me of the air I need to fight back, tight enough to keep me floating on that lightheaded sensation—but loose enough to keep me conscious, so that I could feel his fingers plunging deep into my pussy over and over again.

But as Dan focused on fingering me, hard and fast, his precise grip on my throat started to slip, just a little bit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for me to get some air in my lungs. And with that air came a moment of clarity. I was moments from losing the match—I had to act. It was now or never.

Using the last of my energy, I got my legs under myself and slowly pushed myself to my feet, with Dan still clinging onto my back. Then, I powered myself backwards to slam him painfully against the turnbuckle, once, twice, then a third time. Even in my weakened state, the ring still rattled with the blows. But Dan’s hold didn’t loosen. In fact, he poured on the pressure, planting his feet on the middle rope for more leverage.

I’d have snarled if I could have, but it would have just been a waste of oxygen I couldn’t afford to lose. Instead I just whipped my elbow back into his ribs, over and over again until I finally felt him start to give way. Once I had enough room to maneuver, I flipped around and grabbed him around the waist, climbing up to the middle rope to be on a level with him.

Then, I leaped off the middle rope, twisting around as I hurled through the air with Dan in tow. The belly-to-belly superplex devastatingly slammed him against the mat, crushing him between the unforgiving floor of the ring and my toned, hard body. He spasmed once and then slumped to the canvas, utterly spent.

It was over. He might still be conscious, technically, but there was no way he was coming back from what I’d just hit him with. Dan Danger was done.

He seemed to be having some trouble recognizing it, though, so I decided to help him along. It wasn’t hard. He wasn’t going to be offering any resistance splayed out like this, so I had my pick of holds and other moves to finally bring the match to its true close.

I shifted forward and sat on his face.

He let out a frankly pathetic little moan and pawed at my ass uselessly. Really, it felt more like he was trying to feel me up than dislodge me. Maybe he was. It wasn’t like it was unusual to get a little hot and bothered when a girl with my kind of curves decided to give you an up-close look. I encouraged his arousal by swiveling my hips, grinding down erotically and cutting off his air with my muscular rear for the second time in the match.

“Feel that, ‘Dangerous One’?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if he could hear me while being smothered so deeply, but trash talk was expected of sexfighters, and far be it from me to disappoint. “That’s what defeat feels like. I don’t even need my legs for this KO. Just a pair of strong, sexy cheeks to smother that face until you pass out.”

This was about the point when I’d have expected him to submit, as much to save himself from humiliation as to get some air in his lungs, but he didn’t. Probably just denial. Can’t believe he’s losing to a rookie in her debut match.

Well, it was time for Dan Danger to get a little dose of reality. My glutes clenched tighter than ever around his face, cutting off whatever tiny wisps of air he might still have been getting. He’d been so weakened by my dominance that I barely noticed when he slumped down into unconsciousness.

The ref did, though. Dan’s hand was raised three times, and each time it dropped limply to the mat, unresponding. I stood up with a final, seductive shake of my ass, and sighed with satisfaction as the announcer made it official.

“Winner of the third fall, with a belly-to-belly superplex into a facesitting knockout, and winner of the match...THE MACHINE!”

Raising my fist triumphantly as the crowd roared its approval, I released Dan from the hold, gesturing to the ref to revive him. I watched carefully as he stirred and groaned, the smelling salts doing their work quickly. Standing calmly over him, I waited until I was sure he was awake and lucid before smoothly stripping out of my bikini in front of him, drawing another cheer from the crowd as the last tiny obstacles to seeing my naked body disappeared.

“Do you understand what just happened, or did I rock your world a little too much?” I asked Dan.

“I...lost,” he said, disbelievingly. His face was the picture of confusion, grasping the victory I’d claimed from him but not how it had happened, not how he’d been demolished by a total newcomer.

But it didn’t matter whether he could puzzle that out, as long as he could understand my commands. “Don’t get up. I want you on your back.”

Nodding meekly, he laid down flat. I stood over him for a second, long enough for a few drops of cum from my still-soaked pussy to fall on his lips.

“Only one smother I haven’t used on you yet,” I said, and lowered my snatch onto his face.

To his credit, he was a good sport about losing. A very good sport. His tongue explored every inch of my wet cunt, shoving in deep and coating itself in my juices as he pleasured me. I moaned and pumped my hips to facefuck him hard, giving him more access to every spot inside me. Aroused as I was, it was easy to put me on the brink, and Dan knew it. Once he sensed that I was close, his tongue pulled out of my pussy and circled around my clit, perfectly calculated to give me as much pleasure as he could.

I threw my head back and screamed as I exploded on his face, bathing it in girlcum with squirt after squirt. Dan gave a defeated groan as I drenched him, but couldn’t do anything but wait as I rode it out. Once I was finished, I stood up, leaving him still flat on his back and dazed from the whirlwind of sex and combat.

“If you want a rematch,” I told him, “you know where to find me.”

With that, I turned around and walked out of the ring, with a defeated Dan Danger behind me and a bright future ahead…

“Hey. Machine. Nia. Snap out of it.”

The sound of my name jarred me back to reality, and I found myself looking down at a young, well-muscled Middle Eastern woman with an exasperated expression on her face.

“Anyway, as I was saying before you drifted off, I’ve been assigned as your new trainer,” she said. “I’m Delara, but you can just call me Lara. From how you handled yourself in the ring, you seem like the kind of person who likes to get right down to business, yeah?”

I shook Lara’s hand, and nodded. “When I can manage it.”

She fixed me with a stern look, somehow managing to loom despite being almost a full head shorter than me. “Well, to manage it this time I need you to be focused. I want to go over the match you just had with Dan Danger, and when I say I want to go over it I mean I want to make absolutely sure you know what went wrong and how to fix it. But that’ll be useless if you just zone out the whole time.”

I nodded solemnly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve just been a bit distracted. But I’ll get my head back in the game, I promise. There’s just one thing I have to do to make it happen…”

(Nia’s model is Jade Cargill. Lara’s is Yarishna Nicole Ayala.)
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Old 04-Feb-21, 12:02
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

Nia is going to be a legend
Thank you Korn
Let The Dragon Ride Again On The Winds Of Time!
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Old 06-Feb-21, 15:23
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

Lara’s words on focus echoed in my head as I marched down to the dressing rooms. I couldn’t change the outcome of my debut match now. But I could make it clear where I stood with Shock and Awe. And I knew I had to do just that if I wanted to set my mind at ease.

My fist rapped sharply on the door to Katie and Jenny’s shared room. The moment it opened, I said without preamble, “I need to talk to the two of you. Now.”

“Relax, babe,” Katie said as she leaned against the doorframe, giving me her most winning smile. “We both saw you out there. It’s obvious that you could have whipped Dan’s ass if you’d been a little better prepared.”

“We’re not gonna throw you out on your ass just because he pulled a cheap move,” Jenny added, sliding off the bed and strolling over to stand next to her partner.

“Someone here has made a ‘cheap move’ all right,” I replied coldly, “But it wasn’t Daniel Derrick.”

They blinked at me in surprise, in perfect sync. It would have been funny if I weren’t so pissed off at them.

“What are you talking about?” Jenny asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Dan did what he had to do to win,” I said, cutting her off. “That’s all there is to it. How he did it is irrelevant. What is relevant is that the two of you thought you could manipulate me into helping you settle a personal feud.”

The confusion in their expressions started to give way to wariness. “Manipulate you? We gave you an opportunity,” Katie said, as the warmth started to disappear from her voice. “Sure, we put you up against Dan Danger so that upjumped little punk would finally get what’s coming to him. But don’t forget: without the two of us, you’d still be lounging around in your room wondering why no one wanted to put you on TV.”

I frowned at her, drumming my fingers against the doorhandle. “If you hate Dan Danger so much, you could have taken him on yourselves. If you really are the once-and-future champions you claim to be, why did you need me to face him?”

“Well, we had to find more opponents for the gauntlet somehow—” Katie started, before Jenny shut her up with a glare. But it was too late: I’d already heard what Shock and Awe hadn’t wanted me to hear.

My eyes narrowed. “Gauntlet? So I wasn’t your only proxy against Dan Danger. How many others have you thrown between the two of you and him? Why did he think you were planning to make him your sex slave? And, again: why won’t you face him yourselves?”

Sighing, Jenny faced me, her expression darkening. “You wouldn’t understand, Nia. When you get to our level in the League, you can’t just charge head-on at your problems anymore. You have to find creative ways of dealing with the stuff that gets thrown at you. Especially from cocky little bitch boys who think they’re the next big thing just because they got lucky once.”

I met her gaze unflinchingly. “I don’t think it takes a lot of creativity to make other people do your dirty work for you. You talked a big game about how I deserved a chance to show what I could do, but it was all lies designed to get a bit of extra muscle in your corner.”

And with that, Jenny’s mask of calm finally snapped. Her face twisted with anger, and next to her, Katie leveled a similar glare at me. “So, what?” Jenny snapped at me. “You’re gonna turn your back on the women who put you on the path to being a star? Buddy up with the guy who stole your debut win? All because of some bullshit code of honor?”

I barked a laugh at that—one with no humor in it, harsh and cold. “No. Make no mistake: I will face Dan Danger again. And not only will I beat him, I will do it so thoroughly that there will never be an ounce of doubt again that I have become the better sexfighter. But I’m gonna do it for me, not because I want to ride your coattails. So don’t involve me in whatever petty slapfight you’ve got going on with Dan again. Oh, and by the way?”

I drew myself up to my full height, looming over both Shock and Awe.

I’m the only one who’ll put me on the path to being a star.”

With that, I slammed the door and strode away.
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Old 12-Feb-21, 21:42
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

I hate giving interviews.

I’ve always hated it. I tended to avoid it even when I was working as a pornstar with a small audience instead of an SFL competitor with a huge one. Speaking person-to-person is one thing, but when you’re addressing a whole community it’s so easy for your words to go astray. To accidentally say something you don’t mean, or something you do mean but shouldn’t say in public. More trouble than it’s worth, for the most part.

I couldn’t dodge this one, though. It was expected that new sexfighters would talk to Missy Robinson at some point, and though I’d lost my debut I got the sense that I’d still made something of an impression. So here I was. I bit back an exasperated sigh and tried to ignore the cameras, looking down at Missy as she held up a microphone.

“So,” she chirped, “how do you feel about your intro match with Dan Danger?”

What kind of a fucking question was that? I’d had victory in my grasp, and I’d almost literally let it slip away. Did she expect me to feel any other way besides frustrated and upset?

I didn’t want to open my first ever interview by snapping at my interlocutor, though, so I pasted on a smile and said, “I’m pretty pleased with everything up until the last thirty seconds. It’s true that Dan caught me off guard, but I’m confident that I can adapt and keep that from happening again in the future.”

A frown flickered over her face, and I wondered for a moment if she’d seen through me. But she pressed on. “Speaking of how things went in the main body of the match, your performance against him seems to have been pretty popular in the crowd. Did that come as a surprise to you? And do you plan on cultivating more of a relationship with the fanbase?”

My forced smile quickly became genuine. “I’d say it came as a surprise, but, uh...it was really inspiring that so many people were rooting for me. If you’re watching this”—I gave an awkward little wave to the camera—“thanks so much for the warm welcome, it meant a lot. I’ll definitely be trying to keep in touch with everyone out there, through social media or...whatever other ways might work.”

Oh God, had I just committed myself to doing more of these?

I turned back to look at Missy as she glanced up at me. “I’m sure a lot of people will be pleased to hear that,” she said. “But what’s even more important than your plans for backstage is your plan for the ring. Where do you see yourself going from here?”

“Other than getting my rematch with Dan Danger?” I asked a little dryly.

She chuckled as she adjusted the microphone. “Well, you may have to get in line. That man seems to attract more than the usual number of grudges.”

I waved my arms in a “hold on” gesture. “Okay, back up. I don’t really think it’s accurate to describe my feelings towards Dan as a ‘grudge’. That implies kind of a personal hatred of him, right? But that’s not what I’m feeling. It’s more of a desire to come back stronger from losing, and one way of doing that is to beat the guy who beat me before. Does that make sense? I know I’m making it sound like I have it out for him, but—”

I’m rambling, I realized belatedly, clamping my mouth shut. Not a good look.

Missy nodded pensively. “Then is it fair to say that you’ll be continuing your alliance with Shock and Awe in the future?”

“Actually, we’ve chosen to part ways,” I told her. “I’ve realized that I’m not really interested in being part of a faction or a stable so early on. I want to show that I don’t need someone else holding my hand before I agree to team up.”

It was the truth, but not the whole truth. Missy seemed to buy it, though. “I see. Then, apart from pursuing the Dangerous One on your own, do you have any other goals for the future?”

Did I? I honestly hadn’t really thought about it. Dan had given me a challenge that was easy to latch onto, one that didn’t make me think too hard about what I was actually doing. But he was just one man in a whole League. What do I want? I want to show what I’m truly capable of. I want to never go back to the person I was before I tried out for the SFL. I want to show the whole world that it can’t fuck with me…

“I want the Intercontinental Title,” I said.

Missy’s eyes widened in surprise. I couldn’t really blame her. I’d shocked myself a little bit—the words had just slipped out. But I couldn’t take them back now, and even if I could have, I wouldn’t have.

“That’s...ambitious of you,” she said, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t identify. She probably thought I’d gone crazy. “It’s...uncommon, to say the least, for a rookie to go directly to pursuing a title.”

She had enough tact not to say “Especially one fresh off a debut loss”.

“It is ambitious,” I acknowledged, “But it seems like that’s the name of the game around here. And as for how rarely it’s done, well, if there’s one word I don’t want to be described with during my time here, it’s ‘common’.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” said Missy, still looking a bit nonplussed. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Mandy about your designs on her title?”

“I think I already said it,” I told her with a shrug.

She didn’t seem satisfied. “Really? Nothing beyond just ‘I want your belt’?”

I sighed. “There’s two possible outcomes for this whole thing: I win the Championship or I don’t. If I don’t win, any boast or call-out I could make here would be totally useless. And if I do win, it would be redundant, because nothing I could say measures up to the reality of what I’d do in the ring. So, yes. Cutthroat, I want your belt. That’s all.”

Missy was just opening her mouth to ask another question when a saccharine voice from off to the side said, “That is so cute.”

I turned sharply towards the source of the voice to see a tall, lightly tanned blonde woman in glittering sunglasses striding into the interview room, shadowed by an Asian woman with her brown hair done up in a pixie cut. They were clearly fresh from training, wearing tank tops and booty shorts in a matching shade of eye-searing pink and smiles even less sincere than the one I put on earlier.

These could only be Cutthroat and the Assassin.

“Well, hello there,” Missy said, turning up the gain on the microphone as the cameras turned to encompass the whole scene. “Looks like we have some unexpected guests—and pretty distinguished ones, too.”

A sudden hunch struck me that I was about to see some truly spectacular grandstanding, and I tried to nip it in the bud. “Hi. I understand that I just called you out and that’s not something I could reasonably expect you to take lightly, but this is my interview. If you want to respond, you’re free to schedule a time slot like everyone else.”

Cutthroat gave me a look that was probably supposed to seem pitying, and turned to her partner. “Should I tell her, bae?”

“She’s gonna have to find out eventually,” the Assassin replied with the same mock sadness.

“‘She’ is standing right here,” I said acidly.

Mandy ignored my annoyed tone. “All right, girl. I know you’re new to this League and everything, and you probably haven’t figured out how things work around here, so I decided to come down and welcome you in. I wanted to show you the ropes a little bit, uh...what was your stage name again? Started with an M, I think. Monster? Mistress?”

My jaw clenched, and I gritted out, “Machine, which you would have known if you were paying attention. You would also have known two other things. One, I have already been welcomed. And two, I do not need your ‘help’.”

Cutthroat gasped in feigned offense. “Wow. I come down here to try to do a girl a good turn, and she throws it back in my face. Are you hearing this, bae?”

“Unbelievable,” Kim agreed, shaking her head slowly.

I turned to Missy with a long-suffering sigh. “I’m really having my interview cut short for this?”

“You’ll have all the time you signed up for once the champion and her partner have spoken,” she promised me.

Mandy perked up suddenly at Missy’s words. “Right! That reminds me of what I was gonna tell you.” She started towards me slowly, Kim close behind, the sickly-sweet smile never leaving her face. “The way things work in the League is like this: when you’re the Champion, you get some privileges that don’t get handed out to the losers you stepped on to get there. And one of those privileges is that you don’t have to sit there and listen when some rookie who squirts like a firehose and lost her only match tells you she deserves the belt more than you.” By the end of the last sentence she was in my face, with her body tense and her fists clenched, and the smile had slid off her face like oil.

Oh. So that was how it was going to be.

I considered my options as Mandy and Kim stared me down. I couldn’t back down now, in front of so many cameras, but taking them on wasn’t much better. She might be an arrogant, condescending bitch, but Mandy was still a champion, and I’d never fought backstage before. It could get dicey even one-on-one. With Kim backing her, I might very well be about to get my ass handed to me, with Missy Robinson standing right there to film every moment of it.

But our standoff was interrupted by a sound—the click-click of high-heeled footsteps. Four heads turned as one to see another person walk into the room, one all of us recognized on sight. Dressed in nothing but her heels and the skimpy bikini that served as her match outfit, she strode into the room with no shame whatsoever and regarded us all with a dark, piercing gaze.

“What was that you said about champions, Cutthroat?” asked the Killer Queen.

The blonde woman’s porcelain-mask smile settled back into place as she turned to face the new arrival. “Oh, hey there, Queen! I was just telling the Marauder here what badasses we Champions are. And why she shouldn’t go telling them that she’s the one who’s gonna take their belt away.”

Dana stared at her implacably. “Mandy, do you know what the actual privilege of being a champion is?”

Mandy didn’t answer, but her grin flickered as she gestured at Dana to go on.

“It’s when you can look at challengers,” the Killer Queen said, “And be absolutely certain—beyond a doubt—that your skills are enough to hold your belt against them.

“Your own skills,” she added with a significant look at the Assassin.

Mandy arched an eyebrow. “You don’t think the Intercontinental Champion can take Miss ‘I lost to a guy who likes to lick toes’?”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with licking beautiful women’s feet,” Kim was quick to add, exchanging a knowing smirk with her BFF.

I bristled, but Dana spoke before I could. “I think if you knew for sure that you could, you’d be facing her one on one in the ring instead of behind the scenes with your gal pal.”

“Oh, we’ll see each other in the ring all right, if she can make it to me,” said Mandy, but she was backing off. “Magician, or whatever your name is, it’s been a pleasure.”

“No it hasn’t,” I said.

Cutthroat just smirked at me as she and the Assassin headed back into the hallway.

I took a deep breath and looked up at Dana. “Thanks for the assist. That might have gotten ugly.”

“Happy to help. Some people really think that putting on a belt entitles them to do whatever they want and face no consequences. Missy, can I borrow the Machine for a second? I have a match to get to, but I’d like to say a quick word to her in private before I head out.”

Missy thought about it for a moment, maybe deciding whether letting me step out was worth missing the opportunity to film our conversation, but she eventually nodded. “Sure, feel free.”

I followed Dana out the door and out of earshot of Missy’s microphones before she took me aside.

“I don’t have long, but here’s a quick word of advice,” she said. “You said earlier that you didn’t want to get involved in factions or stables until later. I think that’s smart. In fact, I think you should cut out the ‘until later’ and not do it at all.”

I stared at her in bewilderment. “Uh...why? Aren’t you in a faction with Hunter and the Sexkitten and whomever else?”

Dana sighed, leaning against the wall. “The Wildcat, Shock and Awe, and people like them—not to mention our new management team—have made success in this league more about who you know and who’s on your side than what you can do. I’ve been sick of it for a while, but I had personal entanglements, and I couldn’t avoid getting dragged in. But you don’t, and you can. So ignore the politics and just focus on being the best sexfighter you can be.” With that, she turned on her heel and headed for the door that would take her down to the entrance ramp.

“Wait!” I called after her, and she turned back towards me. “Why help me? Why give me advice? If I’m successful enough, it might be your belt I’m gunning for someday instead of Mandy’s.”

“Oh, I know,” she said with a sultry smirk. “And when you lose, I want it to be because I dominated you, not because someone came from behind with a steel chair.”

Anyone else might have found that offputting, intimidating even, but I understood exactly what she meant.

“Goodbye, Nia,” the Killer Queen said finally. “I’ll see you around.”

With that, the champion walked away, off to do what she did best.
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Old 17-Feb-21, 20:40
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

“Well,” I muttered to myself, “let’s get this over with.”

It had only been a week since I’d lost my debut match to Dan Danger. I still couldn’t stop thinking about how close it had been and how I’d let victory slip away, and my encounters with Shock and Awe and then Cutthroat and the Assassin had only driven the point home even more firmly. I was burning with a need to make good on the loss, to take on a top competitor and show that I was worthy to stand among the SFL’s best and brightest.

And so, of course, the next match they had booked me in was against…

“And in the other corner, weighing 150 pounds and hailing from Minneapolis, Minnesota, KENNY G-STRING!”

In fairness, even the highest-ranked SFL stars faced a jobber like Kenny every now and then. Even La Dama had been put up against him last week. But for her, it had been an opportunity to show off her skills in front of the fans. Sending him against me now of all times just felt like an insult.

I watched idly as Kenny swaggered up to the ring in his T-shirt and jeans and then stripped down to his briefs. The lacy thong he wore around his neck was the last to go, and he twirled it around his finger teasingly before tossing it aside and facing me.

“Ooh, very nice,” he said as he feasted his eyes on my scantily-clad body. “I like what I’m seeing here a whole lot. You know, I’ve never had a sling bikini in my collection before, but I’ll be happy to add yours once I’ve got you squirting like a firehose for the Titty Master—”

“Kenny,” I said, cutting him off sharply.

He shot me what I’m sure he thought was a winning smile. “What is it, hot stuff?”

I sighed in exasperation. “I know I’m supposed to say something witty or sexy here, but I just cannot for the life of me imagine what’s possessed you to believe that I give a single fuck about anything you have to say.”

He looked nonplussed for a second, but he forged ahead anyway. “Oh, come on, sweet cheeks. That ice-queen attitude will never get you anywhere. Now, if you want to thaw out a little bit and get nice and wet for me, on the other hand—”

“I’m here to do two things,” I said, raising my voice to speak over him. “Fight, and fuck. If you’re not trying to do one of those things, you are wasting my goddamned time.”

Kenny opened his mouth to speak again, but I looked over at the ref. “I’m going to count to five, and then I’m coming after him. I’m not particularly concerned with whether the bell has rung before then, so if you want this to be a good clean match you should probably ring it now. Five...four…”

On “three,” I heard the telltale clang, and I stalked across the ring to confront Kenny.

To his...well, I hesitate to call it “credit”, he didn’t just roll over when I came for him. He held his ground, slamming into me with a shoulder block.

It would have been a fairly competent takedown, if it had taken me down instead of failing to budge me an inch.

He kept pushing for a couple of seconds, still trying to upset my balance as I stood rock-solid and unmoved in front of him. Not the sharpest tool in the drawer, clearly. I let him do it for a few more moments before grabbing him in a front facelock, easily securing his head in my grasp and bending him over as he struggled fruitlessly to get out.

Kenny rained down punches on my abs to try to make me let go, but they had about the same effect on me that his first attack had—which was to say, not much.

“Turning this into a core-strength contest is not a smart play,” I told him. Then I demonstrated exactly why, by assaulting his belly with a series of three knee strikes so powerful they actually lifted him off the floor an inch or two when they hit home. And as he wheezed and gasped for air, I spun around into a front facelock cutter and planted him hard into the mat.

The crowd popped as Kenny sprawled out flat, and then again when I hauled him to his feet and Irish whipped him into the ropes. He was still in a daze when he bounced back. And I was there to meet him, smashing into him with a body check that sent him right back into the ropes—which catapulted him forward into another body check.

This went on for a few cycles, with me using my whole body weight and muscle mass to slam Kenny against the ropes over and over again, before he finally managed to put up some semblance of resistance. As he was thrown forward once again, I pulled myself back to check him—but at just the right time, and in just the right spot, he snapped his head forward into my nose.

Spots flashed in front of my vision as pain crackled over my face, and I actually stumbled back for a moment. Kenny decided to take advantage, of course—but not with a power move. Instead, he stepped forward and took a firm hold of my tits, starting to grope and squeeze them as I got my bearings back.

“Oh, these are the real deal alright,” he said smugly. “I’m looking forward to a long night with these boobies.”

Unfortunately for him, his time with my rack was about to be cut brutally short. My hand flashed out and gripped him around the neck, and I lifted him up to eye level, Darth Vader style.

“Incredible,” I said, seeing the panic start to dawn in his eyes. His feet kicked wildly, unable to touch the ground. “All that and you’re just now starting to realize how outmatched you are.” I punctuated the comment by choke-slamming him to the mat, hoisting his body one-handed in a sweeping arc that came to a sudden and violent stop against the canvas.

I thought about just squeezing his neck a little tighter until he passed out from lack of oxygen. It would certainly be the most efficient way to end the fall. Kenny wouldn’t even have the shadow of a chance to get free, I was sure of it.

And yet...winning wasn’t the only objective here. I had bigger, more long-term goals in mind. After my loss to Dan Danger, I had to show everyone that I really belonged here. Not just in the SFL, but in the main event—up there with the most talented competitors in the league. And for that, I had to demonstrate exactly what a waste of my talents this match really was.

“Here’s the thing, Kenny,” I told him, pinning him to the mat by his throat as he gasped for air. “I’m sorry to tell you this—okay, that’s a lie, I’m not sorry at all—but beating you is just not all that impressive. And if there’s one thing I need to do tonight, it’s making an impression.”

Letting go of his neck and grabbing his hair, I stood, dragging him up so that his face was level with my bikini-clad crotch. I gave him a second to drink in the sight of the iridescent fabric pulled tight around my snatch, teasing him with it for just a moment, before grabbing his head from behind and shoving his mouth and nose right into my barely-clothed pussy!

He let out a groan of protest that vibrated pleasurably against my lower lips, and struggled to make me let go, but my grip was ironclad. For the next few minutes, my cunt was going to be Kenny G-String’s whole world...until it knocked him out, that was.

Kenny was dazed and disoriented for a few precious seconds, but eventually I felt his tongue push under the cloth and in between my labia. I bit back a moan as he started to eat me out, flicking it back and forth inside my slit. It was a risk I’d known I was taking when I decided to claim the fall this way—worth it, I believed, for the prestige of humiliating Kenny completely.

But as he continued to sensually lick me, I realized that there might be some complications with that plan. Or, really, just one complication: for a guy who was barely scraping by in the SFL in every other field, Kenny G-String was surprisingly good at eating pussy.

I pulled his face in even tighter, not even giving him a single breath, but worry started to creep into my thoughts for the first time as I felt my juices begin to flow. If I had to let Kenny go, my attempt to show total dominance over him would take a serious hit. And if he somehow managed to make me cum before I realized I was close...well, that didn’t even bear thinking about.

Had I miscalculated? Should I have just choked him out? The pulses of erotic pleasure rushing up from my groin certainly seemed to suggest so. But there was nothing for it now but to keep smothering him, hoping he would pass out before he managed to lick me to completion.

I kept my face calm and stoic, refusing to let my worry show as I shoved Kenny’s face between my thighs. Looking up, I was able to divide my attention for a moment to discover that the crowd was loving it, cheering raucously with their eyes glued to the ring. I noticed a few hands semi-discreetly shoved down pants or up skirts as I glanced up at the seats.

Well, that was helpful. Fans who enjoyed my matches this much would be quite a boost if I wanted to put myself on an upward trajectory towards—

Kenny’s tongue swirled around my clit, and I lost my train of thought for a moment at the sensation.

Right. Pussy smother. First fall, won by knockout. Back on track, Nia.

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore how good Kenny’s tongue was making me feel. It wasn’t easy, to say the least—and he must have known it wasn’t easy, because I was practically dripping wet by that point.

But “dripping wet” and “squirting” weren’t the same thing. And as it turned out, Kenny’s lung capacity didn’t quite match up to his pussy-licking skills.

It wasn’t immediate; I had to hold him there for a while longer, making absolutely sure I had an airtight seal over his features. But soon enough, his tongue slowed, his struggles weakened...and then they stopped as he slumped down in my grasp, held up only by my grip.

I let him drop unceremoniously to the mat, and noted with some satisfaction that his face was glistening with my wetness. The ref hurried in to check Kenny’s arm, lifting it up only to see it drop limply to the floor three times.

Only then did I hear the words I’d been waiting for: “Winner of the first fall, with a pussy smother knockout, THE MACHINE!”

I headed back to my corner as the referee snapped some smelling salts under Kenny’s nose. The pressure was on him now—I just had to keep it up long enough for him to break.

He slumped back down in his own corner, trying to get his bearings back, but I could see it wouldn’t be enough after what I’d put him through. He was still shaking himself out of his daze when the bell rang for the next round, coming out slowly and uncertainly as he tried to regain his focus.

I didn’t let him.

Charging across the ring, I leaped up with my fist cocked for a Superman Punch. Kenny didn’t react nearly fast enough to dodge or block it, so my fist slammed into his face, sending him sprawling to the canvas.

“Hey!” The ref stepped in almost immediately, standing between me and Kenny. “No closed-fist blows to the face. This is your only—”

“Whatever,” I said, and roughly shoved him to the side.

Kenny was clearly still seeing stars from the blow, because he made no move to get up as I went after him. I effortlessly pulled him to his feet and spun him around quickly, before throwing myself backwards into a German suplex that slammed him right back to the mat with a thud. Before he could recover from that, I flipped over while keeping my grip around his waist. Rising to my feet in a sudden surge of strength as I lifted him, I brought him crashing down once more in a gutwrench powerbomb.

As I stood up to survey my handiwork, I saw instantly that the combined effect of the power moves had knocked Kenny for a loop. He lay stunned on the mat, barely stirring.

Clearly, it was time to kick things up a notch.

I deadlifted him up into the air again, but this time I wasn’t going to slam him back down. Draping him over my shoulders, I grabbed his neck with one hand and his leg with the other and pulled.

Kenny’s groan of agony was almost drowned out by the cheers of the crowd as I locked the torture rack in. And when my hand moved from his leg to push under his briefs and grab his cock, and started jerking him off as I painfully stretched his back, the cheers got even louder.

He squirmed in my grip to try to get out, but all he accomplished was thrusting his shaft into my hand even faster. I started strolling around the ring with Kenny held like that, trapped in pain and pleasure atop my shoulders. It took him long enough to muster any real resistance that I’d already made a full lap around the ring, bending and stroking him, before he fought back.

But fight back he did, eventually—it seemed he’d had a little more life in him than I’d thought. Cocking his elbow, he brought it down on the top of my head sharply, making me stumble at the sudden pain of the attack. My grip loosened as I tried to restore my balance, and he took the opportunity to slip out of my hands and fall down, landing on his feet behind me.

Most sexfighters would have had a field day with a golden opportunity like that. A German suplex like the one I’d hit him with, a hammerlock, a facebuster—the sky was the limit. Kenny G-String could have turned the tide of the match right there.

Of course, being Kenny G-String, he decided to go for a bearhug.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that I literally didn’t notice it for a couple of seconds. The only indication that he was trying to do anything to me at all was that his arms were around my waist.

Seriously?” I asked him incredulously once I figured out what he was trying to do.

Finally realizing that he wasn’t accomplishing anything, he decided to change tactics. Instead of squeezing me from behind, his hands started roaming around my body as he ground his hard cock against my ass. One of them reached up to my rack, starting to grope it again and tweaking my nipples through the thin fabric of my sling bikini. The other slid under the bikini’s crotch and slipped two fingers into my pussy, pumping in and out as Kenny searched for my G-spot.

It might not have been as spectacularly ill-advised as the bearhug, but I quickly realized that this was still a poor play on Kenny’s part. I’d had a rest period and the whole round thus far to recover from the arousal his tongue had given me. But the cock he was now rubbing between my ass-cheeks had had my hand around it just seconds ago. He was turning himself on more than me with this little diversion.

That was the only reason I let it continue for as long as it did. In fact, I helped it along a little. I placed my hand over the one he was fondling my tits with, using it to “help” him squeeze tighter and get the full, sensual experience of touching my breasts. And my toned glutes pulsed around his shaft, squeezing and pleasuring it until it was practically tearing its way out of his briefs.

After a few more seconds of that, I felt Kenny tense up as he realized what I was doing. But I didn’t let him think up a new strategy. Instead, I just shoved myself backwards, squashing Kenny between my full body weight and the unyielding turnbuckle pads. When I stepped forward again, he slid down to a sitting position, unable to hold himself upright.

I couldn’t see Kenny’s expression. I was facing away from him, and my body was blocking the cameras from putting it up on the screens. But I’ve always liked to imagine that his eyes got as big as dinner plates when he saw my ass descending on his face.

I didn’t try too hard to smother him out. I didn’t even really care that much whether he tapped. I just swiveled my hips back and forth, burying every inch of Kenny G-String’s unresisting features in my smooth, firm, nearly-naked rear. And, to add insult to—well, more insult, I suppose—his erection stayed at full-mast throughout, twitching and straining against his briefs.

Like I said: I needed to humiliate Kenny. And as humiliating moves in wrestling go...you can’t ask for much better than a stinkface.

I put an exclamation point on it with an ass strike, pulling my lower body forward and then thrusting it back to smash my ass right into Kenny’s face. Then, I turned around and grabbed him, hurling him into the center of the ring.

He had barely hit the ground when I took off running. Leaping into the air, I extended my legs and brought one of my thighs down right across his throat, a punishing leg drop that instantly put an end to any thought of retaliation. With his neck still under my thigh, I slid my other leg in underneath it and turned the leg drop into an overwhelmingly powerful headscissor.

It was over for Kenny then, even if he didn’t know it yet. He pushed with all the strength he had left, but even at his full power he could never have escaped my flexing quads. He groaned in misery as his face turned an interesting shade of purple.

As a last-ditch attempt to escape, he reached out and seized my nipples, twisting them hard to try to distract me from the hold. I winced as he abused the sensitive flesh, and truth be told my legs did loosen a little bit. If I hadn’t been slamming him around like a rag doll for most of this match, Kenny might have been able to capitalize. But as it was, the moment of opportunity quickly vanished—and I planned to dissuade him from trying to make another.

It started by releasing Kenny from the scissor for a moment. He gasped for air, sucking deep breaths into his lungs as I pulled my top leg off of him. I lifted it higher and higher until my toes were pointing up at the ceiling…

...and then I brought the leg crashing down on his throat!

Kenny choked and gargled as the wind was knocked out of him, and I quickly cinched in the headscissor again. My thighs pulsed rhythmically, sending jolts of pain through his head, neck, and upper spine. After a few more seconds, I raised my leg again, letting him see it go up so that he knew what I was about to do.

It broke him, as I had known all along it would. This time I actually got to see his eyes go wide, and he raised his hand to tap out and concede the match to me.

But I caught it, and tilted his head up with my leg to look him in the eye. “That’s not what I need from you, Kenny. I don’t need your submission, I need your orgasm. Want to get out?”

He nodded frantically.

“Jerk yourself off,” I ordered him curtly. “Don’t stop until I see you cumming.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As the audience roared in approval, Kenny pulled his briefs off and took his cock—amazingly, still hard—in his hand. With quick flicks of his wrist, he started to masturbate himself, submitting to me both physically and sexually. It was a powerful feeling, and I felt a rush of arousal cascade through me, even though—by my own orders—Kenny hadn’t touched me at all.

It didn’t take him long to finish, aroused as he’d become from my hand and my ass. He let out a moan as he spilled his seed on the mat, pumping out ropes of cum under my watchful eye.

“Winner of the second fall, and the match, with a…” Even the commentators seemed stumped for a moment on what to call it. They settled on “...with a forced masturbation submission, THE MACHINE!”

I stood up and placed a foot on Kenny’s still semi-erect cock, striking a muscle pose in victory much like the one I’d taunted Dan Danger with. But this time, the win was real. Even if it had been against a jobber like Kenny, I’d scored my first ever victory in the SFL, and no one could take that away from me.

But there was still one last thing to deal with: the domination round. Kenny stared up at me in trepidation, knowing that I could dominate him however I chose.

And it would be an important choice indeed. How I chose to handle Kenny after winning would send just as much of a message as how I’d dealt with him during the match. Should I make him worship my feet, like Charlotte? Kiss my ass, like Cherry? Go for the old standby of making him lick my pussy?

I thought about it for a few moments, and then said to Kenny, “I want to fuck you in the ass.”

He blanched. “W-what?”

“Did I not make myself clear? I. Want. To. Fuck. You. In. The. Ass,” I said, speaking slowly as if he hadn’t understood the words. “I want to take a strap-on and shove it into that cute virgin butt until you cum all over the mat for me. Again.”

In a way, it would be doing him a favor. If I’d made him pleasure me in victory, he’d have gotten nothing in return except embarrassing memories. At least this way he’d get to have some fun too.

Kenny clearly didn’t see it that way, though. “Oh fuck...please no. Anything but that, come on…” he begged.

I sighed. Of course. If Kenny had managed to win by some incredible black-swan event, he would be sticking his dick into any orifice he could find. But turn the tables and he reacts like I just told him I wanted to shoot his dog.

Still, though. He was obviously terrified. And I was a winner, not a monster. I leaned down to whisper into his ear: “Here’s the deal. I’ll give you a safeword: it’s ‘shimmer’. If you feel like you can’t take it anymore, say it, and I’ll stop right then and there, no questions asked. Otherwise...just relax. You might enjoy this more than you think.”

He visibly calmed down at my words. “Okay...okay, fine. Just, uh, please use lube, okay?”

“I’m not a fucking animal, Kenny,” I told him, mildly insulted at the implication.

At that moment, the ref showed up, presenting me with the strap-on I’d asked for and, yes, a bottle of lube to go with it. I slid my legs into the sex toy’s harness and slathered its shaft in oily lube, before spreading some on my hands and rubbing Kenny’s ass with it; he stiffened in surprise at the pleasurable sensation.

The crowd went nearly silent in amazement as they realized I was actually going to do it.

Guiding the strap-on with my hand at first, I aimed its rounded tip at Kenny’s tight asshole and slowly but surely pushed it in.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped as he felt it entering him. He trembled as I shoved it further in, inch by inch. “It feels…”

“Yes?” I prompted him.

“It feels good,” he admitted, hanging his head in shame.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I said with a grin. “Honestly, more guys should try it. It’s not every day you get to feel like this.” On the last word, I gave a thrust of my hips that pushed the tip of the dildo all the way up to Kenny’s prostate.

I couldn’t feel what he felt at that moment, but I could see his whole body go tense. His mouth opened, at first to let out a reedy gasp, then to say something.

I paused, wondering if I was about to hear the safeword I’d given him. But the only word out of his mouth, said in a murmur too soft for the crowd to hear, was “More.”

Well, if he insisted. I sped up my thrusts, grabbing his ass-cheeks in my hands and squeezing them together around the silicone shaft. He bit his lip as I pounded him again and again, clenching his fists against the canvas to keep himself from losing his cool.

Honestly, for a guy losing his anal virginity in front of a crowd of thousands, he was taking it pretty well—literally and metaphorically.

Soon enough, the ass-fucking became too much for Kenny to bear. With a sigh of ecstasy, he once again blew his load, splattering the mat for a second time as I raised my fists in absolute victory. As the last drops of his jism dripped to the mat, I pulled out of him, stepping out of the strap-on.

Only then did I realize I hadn’t gotten to cum.

Oh well, there was an easy remedy for that. Holding the sexual instrument just under my pussy, I pushed my bikini aside and started fingering myself, picking up where Kenny had left off earlier. The whole situation was turning me on so intensely that it didn’t take long for me to reach a powerful climax, splattering the toy with my own juices to mix with the lube.

With that, I threw it down next to Kenny’s still-kneeling form. “There’s your trophy,” I said. “A little something to remember this moment by.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked out.
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Old 17-Feb-21, 23:22
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

You are on fire right now! The story development is great in and out of the ring!
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Old 18-Feb-21, 01:50
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

That might be the most dominant and decisive match we've ever read in this SFL universe. Maybe even more so than Adonis's match. Can't wait to find out the reactions in the back to this performance.
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Old 18-Feb-21, 07:59
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

Very hot and dominant, wow! Keep up the great work.
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Old 18-Feb-21, 12:18
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

If Nia decides to make this post-match activity a regular thing. She will be a nightmare for the other fighters
Let The Dragon Ride Again On The Winds Of Time!
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Old 20-Feb-21, 16:42
Korn Korn is offline
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Default Re: SFL: No Surrender

“So, how’d I do?” I asked my trainer with a smirk.

Lara glanced up with a calculating look as she saw me come into the locker room. Even though it was only my second match, and against a jobber at that, she’d insisted on breaking it down move-by-move as she would have done for any other match.

“Honestly? That could have gone a hell of a lot better,” she said.

I stared at her incredulously as I sat down on one of the benches. “He got in two good hits the entire match.”

“Which is two more than a fighter of his level should have gotten against you,” Lara replied. “You have to remember that as tough as you are, you do still have soft spots. One of these days it won’t be a headbutt to the nose you’re forgetting to guard against, it’ll be a knee strike right to the cunt.”

I winced involuntarily at the thought, but Lara was already moving on. “And remember when you knocked Kenny down with that Superman Punch? Instead of taking the match to the ground, you went for more power moves. I know it was a strategic choice,” she said, holding up a hand to forestall my objection, “and it turned out decently, all things considered, but you know you need to improve your ground game. I’d have thought that that first fall against Dan Danger would’ve taught you that.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Is a live match really the right place for a practice session?”

“Not usually,” she admitted, “but against a jobber like Kenny it very well might have been. And you could have showed the brass that you’ve got more range than just being a powerhouse.”

It was a fair point. I idly rested a hand against one of the lockers, twirling the tumbler of its lock in no particular pattern as I said, “I guess, but I wanted to make my mark by dominating him, showing that I could beat him with practically no effort. For that, I wanted to stick to what I’m good at. Plus, I put him in a headscissor later.”

But Lara wasn’t buying my excuses. She leaned forward in her seat. “Scissorholds come a dime a dozen around here. The little twist you put on yours might help you stand out—when it’s not giving your opponents a chance to escape—but you’ll need a lot more moves than that if you want to really be able to win on the ground. And as for domination...do you really think he’d have been any better at getting out of a Sharpshooter or a crossface than he was at shaking off a German suplex?”

I sighed, slumping down in my seat. “Was there anything I did that you did like?”

“The pussy smother,” Lara said immediately, eyes lighting up. “It was so dominant, so sexy...I almost had to run off to change my panties right there.”

I grinned. “Well, thanks, I—”

“Never do it again,” Lara said.

I stared at her, open-mouthed and indignant. “I thought you said you liked it!”

“I did like it. Loved it, in fact—or rather, I loved watching it. But against almost anyone else, it would never have worked. I could tell that even Kenny himself took you closer to the edge than you were letting on. Try that against a main eventer or even an upper midcarder and they’ll have you cumming your brains out long before they start to run out of air. Save it for the tribute round, Nia.”

“Oh, fine,” I said with ill grace. But I couldn’t stay upset for long. Lara didn’t just push me physically—she also pushed me mentally. I never wanted to settle for second best, and I’d been given a trainer who would help me constantly strive to improve. It was why I liked her, truth be told. “Anything else?”

Lara’s calm, analytical expression transformed in a matter of moments into a wicked, lecherous grin. “You should fuck more guys in the ass.”

Okay. Maybe her coaching wasn’t the only reason I liked her.
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