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Old 10-Aug-19, 16:44
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Default Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom/XXX)

OK, so between rewrites, my usual procrastination and working on a different project, this story has been a very long time coming. In fact, I already posted this prologue once before, way back in March - but as the main story then developed, I subsequently had to make some changes in the prologue to reflect later events, so I asked Zweig to delete that post with the intention that I would re-post it soon afterwards.

Five months later, here we go! Prologue today; Main story tomorrow. This is probably the maledom'iest maledom story I've ever written so obviously it won't be for everyone here. But for those who enjoy the occasional role reversal, I do hope you like it....

Prologue


From a purely aesthetic viewpoint, Tyler Song was perfect. His physique sat halfway between that of an elite swimmer and an Olympic gymnast. Or, as his publicist described him, "He's the Tyler with the three T's! Taut, toned and tight!" Tyler got his dark hair and olive skin from his Korean father. His poster-boy good looks came from his Texan Mom. Neither of them took any credit for his behaviour.

What was all the more surprising about Tyler's catalogue-model appearance was that Tyler was a fighter. Not in just one discipline, but many. MMA, Bare-Knuckle fights, Wrestling, Boxing, numerous Martial Arts; if it gave him an opportunity to hurt someone, Tyler did it. And whilst his peers often displayed the tell-tale signs of their years in the ring, be that broken noses, permanent scars or ears that were less than symmetrical, Tyler's features were still as flawless as they had been on the day of his first fight, just three years previously.

At still only Nineteen, Tyler's record was already an impressive 47-0 victories, across various fighting styles, including 33 wins by knockout. The rest of his wins came by way of submission. There were no TKO's or points wins on Tyler's record. No-one ever got off that easily. And whilst the zero in Tyler's record actually represented his amount of losses, the same figure could also be applied to how many times anyone had even managed to hit him in any of his contests. As the slogan said on all of his posters; "Nobody touches the face". And so far, nobody had.

In the ring, Tyler was moments away from adding adding a 48th 'W' to his record, as he rained punches on another woefully outclassed opponent. A blonde woman, no more than 25 years old, was staggering around the canvas, her vacant face heavily bruised and swollen. She was barefoot, wearing red silk shorts and a matching sports bra, both of which had the name "Jenna 'THE MANKILLER' Benson" stitched into them in glittery blue text. The addition of two light blue boxing gloves on her hands suggested that Jenna was a kickboxer. However, so far her outfit was the only evidence the audience had with which to make that assumption. Jenna had not actually been able to execute a single offensive move since the opening bell of the first round. It was now round 12.

Tyler drove a knee into the battered girl's gut, doubling her over. The crowd cheered and booed in equal measure, but Tyler bathed in any recognition, arrogantly raising his hands above his head and walking slowly around his winded opponent. To a keen ear, it was clear that the majority of those supporting Tyler were made up much of the female portion of the audience. Although why they favoured the young, handsome athletic male fighter, who was currently wearing only the tightest of bulging black Speedos, white boxing gloves and a thin layer of sweat glistening across the chiselled musculature of his toned body, was a complete mystery.

Jenna stood upright, still breathing heavily. Glassy eyes looked around blankly for Tyler, unaware that he was now standing behind her. Tapping Jenna uncharacteristically gently on the shoulder, Tyler waited as she turned around. Already struggling to focus, Jenna's gloves were barely raised above waist height by the time she was facing Tyler and he swiftly made her pay for her complacency. A left hook slammed into her jaw, knocking her head sideways. A right cross did the same, smacking her back in the other direction. Tyler began to deliver rights and lefts in rapid succession. Each blow could have sent Jenna to the canvas but Tyler kept her on her feet by keeping his blows quick, and continuing to alternate between left and right strikes, pounding her jaw like a tennis ball going back and forth across a net.

From the corner of his eye, Tyler noticed the referee approaching, undoubtedly with the intention of stopping the fight. Tyler had been careful so far. Dominating his opponent easily and mercilessly throughout every round, but always holding back just enough so that Jenna was still standing. The idea of putting someone out of their misery was incomprehensible to Tyler. For him, there was no greater pleasure than prolonging an opponent's misery for as long as he possibly could.

Now though, after twelve rounds of relentless punches, elbows, kicks and knees, Jenna was almost out on her feet. Determined not to be denied a knockout, Tyler halted his latest assault and backed off a little. Not out of any concern for Jenna, of course. Tyler's actual intention was to simply stop the referee from calling the fight immediately. Tyler needed just a few more seconds to execute the finish the way that he wanted.

A roundhouse kick slammed across Jenna's face, sending her mouth-guard flying into the crowd, where an eager fan caught it. Tyler's foot slammed into her features again, this time kicking in the opposite direction and giving the front row on the other side of the ring a shower of spittle and blood, which they enjoyed a little too much. Tyler's third kick was high and straight, his heel smashing into Jenna's nose and sending her staggering back against the ropes.

Given her inability to defend herself, it was no surprise that Jenna was equally helpless against Newton's Third Law. She bounced off the ropes and stumbled back towards Tyler who leapt into the air, cracking his knee into Jenna's chin at the apex of his jump. She hit the canvas a split second before him; Jenna on her back, Tyler landing with his feet on either side of her prone body. He remained there as the referee began a formal, but wholly unnecessary, ten count over the comatose woman.

Tyler slipped his boxing gloves off and threw them into the crowd, where a group of enthusiastic young women leapt for them like hyena around a zebra carcass. "YOUR WINNNNNAAAAAAHHHH!!!" cried the ring announcer into his microphone "AND NEEEEWWWW SOUTHERN REGION LIGHTWEIGHT INTERGENDER CHAMPEEEEEEEENNNNN... TYLER 'THE UNTOUCHABLE' SONG".

A buxom redhead in a red bikini handed Tyler an ornate title belt. He glanced at it disinterestedly and tossed it over the top rope towards a sharp suited middle-aged man who was seated at ringside. "Hey Phil," called Tyler, "Put this with all the others will you".

Phil caught the belt and put it on the chair beside him. "Will do, T'!" he shouted over the still raucous crowd. "You know, you're gonna need a bigger room to store these things in soon. You think maybe you could lose a few of 'em, just to free up some space?" he added, laughing.

"Not gonna happen", Tyler called back . "But if you wanna throw some of them out, that's cool. It's not like they're ever going around anyone else's waist again, right!" Phil smiled and waved at Tyler before picking up the belt and heading towards the exit.

As Tyler paraded the ring, still basking in the crowd's equal adulation and loathing, he noticed a face in front row. A dark haired woman, at least ten years Tyler's senior, with an attractive but currently impassive face. She shook her head at Tyler's delight in his effortless victory and he grinned smugly as her blew her an exaggerated kiss. "You're next, Leah." He called out across the sound of the baying crowds. "Think you'll last longer than this one?" he sneered, waving towards the still unconscious woman on the canvas. "Hey," he shouted, a thought suddenly occurring to him, "How about a taste of things to come?" he asked, and moved back towards Jenna.

The referee was still in the ring and made a move to stop the teen fighter. One look from Tyler's eyes quickly changed his mind and he quickly clambered through the ropes. Alone with his recent prey, Tyler pulled Jenna back to her feet. She was coming around slowly, but was still in no state to support her own weight. Ever the gentleman, Tyler dragged her to the corner of the ring, the corner nearest to Leah's seat in the audience. Tyler hung Jenna's arms over the ropes on either side of the corner-post, her back resting against it. Just for good measure, Tyler twisted the ropes around each of Jenna's wrists, holding her in position. "Whhuuu.....?", she mumbled weakly, Jenna's eyes opening slowly as her cognitive functions gradually came back.

Tyler took one last look into the crowd, his stare connecting directly with Leah's. "We fight in three weeks," he shouted. "No Holds Barred. Anything goes. Just like you demanded". Tyler turned his attention back to his defenceless punchbag. "So here's just a little of what you'll be getting...." Tyler ploughed a fist deep into Jenna's soft belly. She grunted as the blow connected, eliciting an "OOOMMFFFF!!!" With her arms trapped, Jenna's natural instinct to clutch her stomach was denied. Instead her legs lifted off the canvas, as she doubled up in pain. She was far too weak too hold them up for long though, and they dropped back down, allowing her winded gut no relief.

Any respite would have been short-lived anyway as Tyler again slammed a punch into her stomach, once more causing the helpless female to utter a breathless "UUUNMMMMPPPPHHHHH!!!" as his fist sank into her belly. The muscled fighter began to dance on his feet, as though ready to avoid a barrage of punches from Jenna which were clearly not coming.

"Let's see if I can find a way through your defence here," he mocked at his trussed target, bobbing and weaving before slamming a vicious right hook crashing into Jenna's cheek. Her head rocked sideways and she grunted a pained, "Unnkkkkkhhhh!!!" as his fist connected with absolute conviction. "I think you've left yourself open a little on your left too," he smirked, and delivered roundhouse kick that produced a spray of spittle from Jenna's mouth as his bare sole found its mark. The two successive strikes had been almost enough to send her back to dreamland. But if Tyler had wanted Jenna unconscious, she would have been. For now, he wanted to prolong his showboating.

Jenna's head slumped forward woozily, so much so that Tyler's subsequent uppercut caught her full in the face, snapping her head backwards. When it lolled forwards again, Jenna's eyes were open, but glazed over, as though she was now merely a passenger in her own body. "Wow!" said Tyler, sarcastically. I can't believe you're still standing", he laughed. "Well, hanging anyway! Actually, you're looking a bit uncomfortable there. Let me help!" Jenna's arms were still caught in the top ropes on either side of her, and were now the only thing holding her up. Tyler picked up Jenna's left leg and hung it over the middle rope to her left. He did the same on the right side, leaving Jenna now completely splayed. Her back was against the turnbuckle, her arms and legs spread like an open invitation. And Tyler had the RSVP.

Tyler's kick ploughed decisively into Jenna's groin, the soft almost inaudible thump as foot hit silk shorts was a stark contrast to the intense pain the blow created. Jenna gurgled out a strangled yelp of agony. Her head jerked upright, her face contorted in pain and tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "Oh hey, you are still with us," exclaimed Tyler. "I'm glad to hear it." He grinned. "Let's hear it again." This time, his knee slammed into Jenna's crotch, causing her to cry out again. It was a guttural, high pitched animalistic grunt that highlighted her loss of any control.

Outside the ring, Leah had seen enough and leapt from her seat. She sprinted ringside and climbed through the ropes, determined to put a stop to the beatdown she was witnessing. Placing herself directly between Tyler and the groaning woman hanging on the turnbuckle, she stared into the vicious fighter's eyes. Leah's skinny jeans and tight white t-shirt looked out of place in the ring, but her athletic and muscular build was still clear to see. "That's enough," she said through gritted teeth. "I was going to wait until our match before I end you, but I'm putting a stop to this right now."

Tyler shrugged his shoulders, innocently. "What's the problem? She's perfectly OK, look." He waved casually towards Jenna and Leah turned slightly to glance behind her. Instantly realising her mistake, Leah quickly turned back to face Tyler - but it was too late. His fist slammed into Leah's unprotected gut, doubling her over as the air fled her lungs with a resounding "OOOOOOUUFFFFF!!!!" Tyler followed up with an knee to Leah's face, the strike connecting with a crack that resounded around the arena as she fell backwards towards the still strung-up Jenna. Unable to control her descent, the back of Leah's head slammed into Jenna's still tender pussy. Jenna squealed in agony one last time before unconsciousness finally overcame her. She slumped forwards, falling from the ropes and landing in a tangled mess of limbs on top of an equally KO'd Leah.

Tyler smirked. "Ladies, please. Get a room!" He raised his hands in victory, already eagerly anticipating his imminent match with Leah.

Last edited by FootPower; 11-Aug-19 at 20:56.
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Old 12-Aug-19, 18:33
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

OK, it took a day longer than planned, but we go.

Before the story, I should point out this is definitely my most XXX story to date, so if that sort of thing isn't for you, consider yourself forewarned. As always, feedback of any kind is always appreciated. The writing process behind this one has been an interesting one, which I may go into later. But for now... Let battle commence!

The Hardest Lesson


The floor of the pit was sandy and felt deceptively soft underfoot. However, Tyler knew from experience that it was considerably less forgiving when you were slammed into it. This knowledge wasn't from first-hand experience, of course. Nobody had ever succeeded in slamming Tyler to the floor of any arena. But from the pained expressions and agonised cries of the many opponents that Tyler himself had slammed onto the pit floor, he was confident that it was not a pleasant experience. For them.

The whole pit floor was a circular, with a diameter of only about six metres. The enclosed space made avoiding your opponent almost impossible, something that Tyler relished. On numerous occasions during Tyler's matches, his opponent had tried to flee when they had realised just how outclassed they were (usually in a matter of moments); but the pit had given them nowhere to go. There were no doors, no openings of any kind around the solid stone wall of the pit. Fighters were lowered into the arena by means of a rope pulley system, which would then be removed. The fight would was only over when the winner decided that it was. Or one rare occasions, when only one fighter remained breathing.

Although the area of the pit was small, the walls surrounding it were considerably high, almost twenty feet around its circumference. Glancing upwards, Tyler could see a ring of faces leaning over the edge and looking down in eager anticipation at the contest that was soon to begin. Many of the women in the audience were gazing appreciatively at Tyler; unsurprisingly perhaps, given that he was wearing only a smile. The teen was not remotely self conscious about his naked form, indeed it had been Tyler himself who had decided on the apparel - or more specifically, the absence of apparel for his upcoming match with Leah. The entire surface of his muscled physique glistened under the artificial lights of the pit, whilst his considerably larger than average cock swung pendulously between his legs, attracting intense stares from most of the women present.

As Tyler smiled back at his appreciative fans, mentally picking out the two or three women he would allow back to his hotel when the match was over, he heard a cheer erupt from the crowd. The heads that circled the pit parted at one point, and a foot swung over the pit wall, resting in a looped rope. The rest of Leah's body followed and she was soon being lowered into the pit as the cheers from above increased, some for her, some for Tyler. Most, just simply in anticipation of the upcoming match. When the rope was a few feet from the pit floor, Leah jumped the remaining distance, landing perfectly but not unable to stop gravity causing her ample breasts to bounce noticeably as her feet hit the floor.

Like Tyler, Leah wore nothing. Her physique was the athletic ideal, every muscle toned, shaped, powerful. Black, shoulder length hair framed a beautiful face, her button nose and winning smile had broken almost as many men's hearts as she had broken bones. Her 36 inch chest was all her own and it moved in unison with her steady breathing as she awaited the start of the match. Before she had begun her successful fight career, Leah had been a fitness model for many years, winning numerous competitions. It had been her competitive nature that had brought her to the world of mixed combat, and it was a world that she had excelled in, with the same immense success as her modelling career.

Now in her mid-30's, Leah was the mainstream face of combat sports. Like Tyler, she fought in multiple styles and like Tyler, she was undefeated. Where the pair differed was that Leah always fought fairly, always respected her opponents and was never unnecessarily cruel. Even in NHB bouts, Leah fought by her own stringent code of conduct. She fought hard. But she fought clean. It was for that reason that she faced Tyler now. For Leah, Tyler represented everything that she stood against. Perhaps surprisingly, it had been Leah that had chosen this arena for their match. She had also demanded the match be a no-holds-barred contest, although Tyler had not required any persuasion on that score. Leah had seen fighters like Tyler before. Cruel and cocky and so full of themselves. She had faced many of them before today and "reformed" them all. Today Tyler would receive his lesson.

There was no bell in the pit. The fight would begin as soon as both fighters were present and the pulley-rope was removed. Leah did not even need to look to know that the rope was now gone. Indeed, she made a point not to take her eyes from Tyler for even a fraction of a second, remembering all-too-well the outcome the last time she had done that. Tyler's arrogance showed no sign of abating as he walked up to the former fitness model, making no obvious attempt to defend himself. He looked up at Leah, who was a few inches taller than Tyler. They stared, eyeball to eyeball for a few seconds, the crowd falling silent at the unspoken intensity displayed between both fighters.

Leah made the first move, her fist speeding towards Tyler's face. He expertly sidestepped the punch, responding with one of his own which Leah did not avoid. A hard left cross caught her full on the cheek and she winced. Tyler simply smiled, dropping his hands to his sides, as though daring Leah to try again. Attempting to call his bluff, Leah threw another punch but still hit only thin air, before receiving a crunching elbow to her chin in response.

Shaking her head to recover her senses, Leah saw that Tyler now stood with his hands behind his back, gazing nonchalantly around the pit as though she wasn't even there. Leah had seen enough. It was time for this cocky prick to go down and she fired a kick at Tyler's head. At the last possible moment, Tyler leaned back as Leah's foot swung harmlessly through the air above him. Moving his own foot, he swept Leah's supporting leg away and she crashed into the ground, face and chest first. She grunted loudly in pain and Tyler raised an eyebrow "You see, I knew that hurts!" he smiled.

Leah got back to her feet and tried to calm her mind. She was letting anger control her actions and was making silly mistakes. She was better than this arrogant upstart, she knew she was. It was time to start fighting with her head and not her heart. Unfortunately, Leah's plan had not accounted for Tyler striking first this time. She was still psyching herself up when a clubbing backfist slammed across Leah's jaw. The quick strike gave Tyler an opening for an longer salvo this time, following up his initial blow with a combination of rights, lefts, jabs, all hitting home as a surprised Leah tried to cover up. As she brought her guard up to defend her head, Tyler took his attack downstairs. Leah's washboard stomach was tough, but Tyler's punches were powerful, fast and stinging in their application and Leah felt their effects immediately.

Leah found herself being forced backwards and in the enclosed space of the pit, it was not long before the cold concrete wall brought her retreat to a halt. She kept her guard up, her forearms blocking some of Tyler's blows to her gut. Tyler was mixing it up though, and Leah was unable to prevent many of his punches slamming into her ribs and kidneys.

Tyler's constant and powerful pummelling was already starting to take its toll and in desperation, Leah dropped her guard and began to throw wild punches. This was more in the hope of keeping Tyler at a distance, rather than expecting to do any real damage. Leah just needed time to regroup. Unfortunately for her, Tyler dodged Leah's flailing fists with ease, and caught the unsuspecting blonde with a quick right cross, smacking her head sideways.

"Were you planning on fighting back?" grinned Tyler. "Only, these people did pay to see an actual contest," he said, waving his hand towards the crowds above. Leah's fist swung towards Tyler's head, but he ducked beneath it, responding with a vicious uppercut to Leah's right breast as he came up. Tyler continued talking, treating Leah as little more than a distraction as she nursed her tender boob.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he called to the faces peering into the pit. "I'm afraid that tonight's match between myself and Leah... oh, please excuse me for a moment". Tyler broke off his address to block an attempted kick from Leah and sink a knee into her gut. She doubled over, wheezing for air, and Tyler turned his attention back to the audience. "As I was saying," he continued, "I'm sorry to say that my match with Leah tonight has been cancelled."

A chorus of boos filled the arena and Tyler raised his hands to silence them. "I'm sorry, I wasn't making myself clear. What I mean to say is that what you are about to witness will not be a match." He turned to Leah, who was only just regaining her breath and standing upright. "Instead," said Tyler, drawing back a fist, "I would like to invite you..." Tyler finished his announcement by slamming punch after punch into Leah's face in time with each word he spoke...

"to..."

"UNGHH!"

"a..."

"UNFF"

"demonstration..."

"URKK"

"of..."

"AAGHH!!"

"my..."

"HNGGG!!!"

"utter..."

"GUH!!"

"superiority!"

"ACHH!!"

The crowd's mood changed in an instant and they roared their approval. Even Leah's supporters joined in the celebrations. For the kind of people who watched fights in the pit, it was never really about who won but simply the manner of those victories. And such people enjoyed nothing more than a brutal beatdown. A chant began to ring around the pit; "TYLER! TYLER! TYLER!!"

Tyler bowed in mock humility and turned his attention back to Leah. She had yet to recover from his previous barrage of strikes when Tyler slammed his knee deep into her stomach. Leah exhaled a winded "Ouuupphhh!!", her body jolting with the impact. Tyler followed up with another harsh knee to the gut, this one lower, just above Leah's crotch. As his knee thumped into Leah's soft flesh, she groaned as white hot pain spread through her lower belly.

Leah groaned considerably louder and longer when Tyler's knee rose again, this time stopping only when it smashed into her bare pussy. Leah's entire body spasmed at the moment Tyler's knee slammed into her crotch, the pain causing her to unleash a high pitched "GHHHUUUUHHHH!!!!" With her hands dropping to her tender area, Tyler again went to work on his opponent's unprotected face. A right hook crashed into the side Leah's jaw and Tyler quickly followed up with a series of close range jabs, delivered at a frenzied pace.

Leah's head jerked back with each impact, her nose and mouth taking the brunt of the punishment. The barrage of punches only stopped when a vicious and perfectly placed heel kick slammed into Leah's chin, almost lifting her feet from the floor. Leah felt her legs buckle and she nearly dropped. She leaned back against the pit wall, letting it take her weight. Her earlier frustration had now turned to outright panic. Tyler wasn't just beating her, he was doing so casually. It was barely minutes into the match and they both knew he could finish her any time that he wanted.

To her shame, a part of Leah was hoping that he would. This wasn't just about the physical pain - as substantial as that had already been. But Leah was also being humiliated. The crowd were enjoying her defeat, applauding it. She was being dominated by a fighter who had been a damn child when she was winning her first tournament. Leah let the frustration build, feeding it with the pain in her body, the taunts of the crowd. She would turn her panic into strength and she would not fall to this young pretender.

Leah stepped forward assertively and threw a haymaker straight at Tyler's face. He watched it pass by as though observing a passing butterfly, before grabbing Leah's outstretched arm and flipping her to the floor. She landed with an unforgiving crash onto her back, the wind knocked out of her. Tyler stepped back as Leah staggered back to her her feet. "Wow, you nearly had me there, Leah" he chuckled, mockingly inviting her to try again. This time, Leah aimed a kick at Tyler's face. Just before her foot found its target, Tyler grabbed Leah's ankle out of the air. Still holding her leg up high, Tyler's knee cracked into Leah's splayed pussy and her subsequent scream almost drowned out the cheers of the crowd. With her ankle still in his grip, Tyler swept Leah's supporting leg and she dropped to the ground again.

She lay there for a moment, curled in a foetal postilion as she nursed her aching crotch. Whilst Leah was out of action, Tyler again played to the crowd, standing in front of her and executing a series of bicep poses. With each pose, the crowd popped for the young fighter. And his arms weren't the only muscles that Tyler was flexing. Now as solid as a metal rod and pointing skywards, Tyler's huge cock was proof that his attitude in the ring certainly wasn't compensating for any other inadequacies.

Behind him, Leah was again back on her feet. Seemingly unaware of this, Tyler continued his pose-down until Leah's arm wrappped around his throat. She jumped onto his back, snaking her legs around Tyler's waist for added purchase. In a ring surrounded by ropes (and against any fighter other than Tyler), Leah's plan might have succeeded. In the confines of the pit however, it was bound to fail. "It's about time," said Tyler, showing no ill-effects of Leah's attempted choke. "I though I was going to have to send you a written invitation!" Tyler backstepped quickly into the outer wall of the pit, slamming Leah against the concrete with enough impact to loosen the grip of her legs from around his body.

Her arm remained around his neck, but with less strength now. Tyler drove his elbow sharply backwards, digging it deeply into Leah's soft belly. Her subsequent guttural "OOOOOOUUUUFFFFF!!!" breathed warm air directly onto Tyler's left ear. Enjoying the sensation, Tyler repeated the move, this time holding the fist of his striking arm in his other hand so as to actually push his elbow even further into Leah's mangled guts. She wheezed again, her arm falling away from Tyler's neck but still hanging over his shoulder. Never one to ignore an opportunity for cruelty, Tyler pulled Leah's arm straight, turning it so that her elbow was now resting on his shoulder.

Holding Leah's wrist with both hands, Tyler suddenly pulled down sharply. Leah squealed as her elbow was instantly bent backwards, likely broken. And Tyler wasn't finished. Instead of releasing the injured limb after the damage had been done, Tyler continued to pull down, leaning forwards as he did so and flipping Leah over his shoulder, using her injured arm to do so. Leah screamed as she flew through the air, only stopping when she hit the surface of the pit and the wind was knocked from her.

Leah had landed on her back, directly in front of Tyler. This time, it looked like it might be a while before she would stand again. The only thing now keeping Leah conscious was the intense pain in so many parts of her body, all vying for the most attention. Which was exactly as Tyler had planned it. Every punch, every kick, every knee, every throw, every single thing that Tyler had done was with the intention of causing maximum suffering, but without knocking Leah out. He had a show to put on, after all.

"Hey Leah!" he said, looking down at her. "So shall we do this for real now?" Leah's bruised and bloodied face already looked a little vacant, but Tyler's comments seemed to create even more confusion.

"Whaaa...Wha?" was all she was able to mutter.

"Come on, you know," said Tyler, an insincere smile on his face. "We should stop pulling our punches. I mean, I've obviously been pulling mine from the start. And you must have been.... Wait, really?" Tyler's expression became one of mock surprise. "You mean this was your best!? Your absolute best?" He threw back his head, laughing loudly. "And you've actually won fights before this?"

Leah lifted her head, a feeble attempt to get back to her feet. As unlikely as she would have been to succeed, Tyler's heel stomping down on her nose brought a swift halt to any unlikely comeback. "So what's it like?" asked Tyler, "I'm curious, because it's obviously something that'll never happen to me." His foot remained on Leah's face and he pressed down on her already battered features with his bare sole. "How does it feel to have your ass totally handed to you?"

Even if Leah had been inclined to answer, Tyler's foot over her mouth would have silenced any reply. "Hmm, I guess you're the strong, silent type, right?" Tyler lifted his foot and looked back down into Leah's eyes, which looked back at him with a combination of confusion and concern. "Well OK, maybe just the silent part," he said, chuckling to himself. "But hey, seeing as though you can't hand me my ass, how about I just give it to you instead!" Standing astride Leah's head, facing towards her feet, Tyler squatted down, lowering his ass onto her face. He knelt down on either side of her head, pinning her arms beneath his knees. Tyler made extra sure to to put a little extra weight on Leah's injured arm, eliciting a fresh yelp of agony from his wrecked adversary.

Moving his feet, Tyler positioned them beneath the back of Leah's skull. This raised her head from the floor of the pit, allowing Tyler to force Leah's face deep between his toned butt cheeks. When he could feel her nose almost inside him, he made himself comfortable. Leah's body now lay before Tyler, completely unprotected; Her face smothered, her arms pinned. "Any requests?", he called out to the crowd. They responded with yells of various body parts and Tyler was all too happy to meet their demands. He rained punches, elbows and clubbing strikes onto Leah's gut and breasts, each impact causing her body to spasm.

Muffled sobs and grunts of pain came from the vicinity of Tyler's ass. As his onslaught of punishing blows continued unabated, Tyler began to grind his butt backwards and forwards across Leah's face. The sweat from his body and the tears from Leah's eyes both proved to be natural lubricants and he gradually worked Leah's nose still deeper into his firm buttocks. Occasionally, Tyler would clench his powerful glutes, his muscular butt tensing around Leah's face with enough pressure to actually cause her pain. Or to be more accurate, causing her a different kind of pain to the various other aches, sores and stinging which the rest of her body was currently experiencing.

Right now, Leah knew only darkness and hurt. Smothered and blinded beneath Tyler's rump, she could not even anticipate where and when each strike to her body would land. And with little respite between blows, Leah was still suffering the effects of a previous impact when another would strike home. Her gut ached and her breasts burned as Tyler battered her at random, pounding Leah's body as though she were a human whac-a-mole machine. An elbow drilled into her left bosom and Tyler felt her stifled scream beneath him. This time, Leah's mouth involuntarily opened, meaning that her wet lips were now essentially kissing Tyler's ass.

The sensation gave Tyler a shudder of pleasure and he halted the blitz on Leah's body so that he could fully focus on Leah's face. He sat up straight, putting all his weight into the facesit. As he felt Leah desperately squirming beneath him, he flexed his glutes again, his ass literally clamping onto Leah's face like a limpet. Indeed, so tightly was Tyler's butt constricted around Leah's face, when he lifted his hips as though about to give Leah a little respite and much needed air, her face remained firmly lodged in his butt and was pulled upwards with him.

Tyler held her there for a while, pouring all of his strength into the unique hold. Many of his female admirers had often suggested Tyler could probably crack a walnut with his impeccably toned ass. Right now, it appeared that Tyler was trying to test that theory, albeit with a different kind of nut. He could feel the air from Leah's nose inside him, whilst the spittle from her lips moistened the inside of his cheeks. On the other side of Tyler's body, his mammoth penis was threatening to erupt.

It took every ounce of Tyler's will to hold back. Not yet. Beating Leah was a certainty. By this point, it was already past tense. And for Tyler, this was not about a victory. At least, not beyond the pleasure that breaking Leah would obviously bring him. But that was an immediate sensation, something for the here and now. Tyler also had one eye on the future. He knew that defeating a fighter as accomplished as Leah would inspire more foolish women to challenge him. And if the nature of Leah's defeat was a brutal and humiliating one, they would all want a piece of Tyler. They'd all be looking for a payback they would never achieve. And so the cycle would go on.

With a final squeeze for good measure (enough to loosen a few of Leah's back teeth) Tyler finally relaxed his glutes and Leah's head dropped back to the floor, her face now a much deeper shade of red than the rest of her body. "Come on then, Leah", said Tyler, getting back to his feet. "We've both had a nice little rest. Let's get back to it". Leah's only response was a series of moans and drawn out breaths. Sighing, Tyler reached down and took a handful of Leah's hair in his hand. Tyler forcibly dragged her back to a standing position in the centre of the pit and pulled her face to within touching distance of his own.

Tyler's demeanour was different now. No more mocking remarks, sarcastic comments or playing to the crowd. He spoke to Leah directly, his voice suddenly quieter and more threatening. "This isn't a warning, because you aren't going to be able to stop what happens next. Just know, you brought it on yourself. I bet you thought you were gonna show me the error of my ways, right? Sorry bitch. That shit only works if you're good enough to prove a point. So now... Let me teach you something."

Tyler took his hand from Leah's hair. Without his support, she stumbled slightly, but stayed on her feet. Leah still had the strength to stand, but neither the energy nor focus of mind to do much else. Her skill, her strength, it all meant nothing now. She had been exposed by a fighter her superior in every way. The only thing worse than the pain she was currently feeling, both physically and mentally, was the one thing that remained. Because she still had hope.

Whilst she was still conscious, a tiny part of Leah still believed she could turn this around, could somehow find a way to win. And Leah resented that feeling. Because her rational mind knew that it wasn't true. Hope had no place here. It was only going to make the rest of this experience all the more unbearable. Perhaps even more so emotionally than it would physically. Although Tyler's foot suddenly connecting with her face presented a strong case for the latter.

Another roundhouse kick followed. And another. Tyler's kicks were measured and precise, their intention being to cause pain, rather than to put Leah down. He aimed each strike so that his foot wasn't striking Leah straight on, but instead his sole was effectively stroking across her face. Although, in this case, the definition of 'stroking' would be akin to the way a demolition ball might stroke a China tea set. Tyler's kicking leg moved in a perfect arc, the apex of which was where his foot would meet Leah's face, distorting her features as it passed by.

Tyler delivered roundhouse after roundhouse across Leah's face. Some impacted left to right, others right to left, alternating his kicking leg frequently as he did so. The soles of Tyler's feet were hammering Leah's face with the steady rhythm of a metronome, although with the usual 'tick tick tick..." now replaced with the equally rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin followed by a subsequent yelp of pain.

As Tyler's kicking exhibition continued, the crowd began to clap in time with each strike. At some point, the pace of kicks quickened. Whether that was down to the audience clapping faster to keep up with Tyer's kicks or vice versa, it was hard to say. Whatever the reason, the outcome for Leah remained the same. There was the moment of impact, where her features would be twisted and bent beneath Tyler's sole. Then no more than a second would pass, when the accumulated pain of every subsequent hit would course through Leah's cheeks, nose, lips. And then came another kick. And another. And another.

Sensing that Leah was sailing dangerously close to blacking out, Tyler altered the focus of his attack. Now her ample breasts were his kick-bags and he pounded them with the same ferocity as he had done her face. Strikes came from all sides, using every part of his feet. Roundhouses kicks would slap Tyler's sole into the side of one tit, knocking against the other like a bizarre game of billiards. Front Snap kicks penetrated the centre of each of Leah's breasts, sometimes with Tyler's heel, sometimes with the ball of his foot, but always with the same pinpoint accuracy. Leah's burning areola and aching nipples were now merely targets and Tyler scored a bullseye with every impact. Even the underside of Leah's chest wasn't safe, as the top of Tyler's feet repeatedly slammed into bottom of her bosoms, with enough force to send them bouncing upwards.

Wit Leah's boobs now a blotchy shade of red and purple, Tyler finally turned away from her. Between the bruising on her face, a glassy-eyed stare and a length of drool that hung from her mouth, Leah's appearance was almost zombie like. The low groaning that accompanied her shallow breathing only supported that description. With his back to Leah, Tyler bowed deeply to the crowd. They roared in appreciation as, without rising from the bow, he executed a back heel kick that caught Leah full in the face, momentarily crushing her features into a distorted mess, her nose flattened by Tyler's unstoppable heel. Leah staggered backwards, steadying herself against the pit wall, more out of misplaced instinct than any conscious thought.

Tyler moved in with a series of punches to Leah's soft belly, each one causing what little breath she had left to exit her lungs via a chorus of of wheezing grunts. She was still gasping for air when a vicious kick sent Leah's head spinning into the path of an equally merciless right hook. Just as Tyler had promised, this was a demonstration now. His every kick, every punch, every knee, every elbow; each and every strike hit its intended target on Leah's ruined anatomy.

But it was more than a just display of Tyler's flawless technique. Anyone could be trained to execute the perfect kick or throw the definitive punch. What separated Tyler from other fighters was how those moves came together. His savage destruction of Leah wasn't just a succession of random strikes. Tyler fought in the same way that a composer might write a piece of music, with every individual note being part of a much larger picture. Each time Tyler's fist pulverised Leah's gut or his elbow cracked her chin or his foot mashed her face, it was all about breaking her down, piece by piece. A certain move here could increase the pain of a subsequent attack, two or three moves later. A moment's respite would give Leah the opportunity to walk into another attack. Allowing Leah to throw a pitifully weak and aimless punch with her one good arm moved her into a better position for any number of simple but painfully effective counters.

Leah had never had a chance against Tyler because he was always at least one step ahead of her. A vicious front snap kick drilled her gut like a spear. Leah doubled over instantly, her mouth open in silent, airless exhalation. Grasping a handful of her hair in his hand, Tyler held Leah in her bowed position and cracked his knee into her face. Her body momentarily slumped on impact, a split second of unconsciousness that unfortunately for Leah, did not last.

Still holding Leah's hair tightly, Tyler jerked her upright and used his knee again, this time powering it directly between her thighs. Leah emitted a yelped gurgle, the tortured expression on her face painted a clear picture of the agony she was experiencing. And it was picture Tyler was keen to keep creating. He released Leah's hair, and took a firm grip of her shoulders. Now, Tyler could pull Leah towards him at the same time as he repeatedly drove his knee into her her naked pussy. Leah squeals of anguish became constant, only changing in pitch and intensity with the impact of each subsequent knee strike.

As a counterpoint to Leah's cries of anguish, Tyler punctuated every knee to her aching crotch with a triumphant "EEYAAAH!!" Before long, the crowd were joining in. Tyler would draw out a loud "EEEEEEEE...." as he pulled his knee back. And then, the crowd would erupt in a deafening "....YAAAAAAHHHH!!" as the unforgiving bone in Tyler's knee once again slammed into the the soft flesh of Leah's throbbing sex. Soon even Leah's agonised wailing ceased. Nauseous with pain, Leah's only response to each unforgiving impact became a retching, choked, dry heaving.

Leah was done. Without Tyler's grasp of her shoulders, which was now effectively holding her upright, she clearly could no longer stand on her own, Tyler decided it was almost enough. Not out of any sense of pity or mercy. Tyler wasn't capable of those feelings. But his effortless domination of another challenger had aroused him to almost bursting point, and now he was desperate for release.

Tyler pulled Leah in close against his body, wrapping his arms around her waist and locking his hands behind her back. He began to squeeze, compressing Leah's midsection in a tight bearhug. Leah found her voice again and cried out as Tyler's biceps and forearms slowly crushed her abdomen. Leah's breasts, still raw from numerous kicks and punches, were squashed against Tyler's chest, only adding to her suffering. Without releasing any pressure, Tyler moved his head close to Leah's, their proximity making it easy for him to speak directly into her ear.

"I'm thinking of finishing this," he said, matter of factly. "Not just this fight. I mean your career. All of it." Tyler flexed his arms, increasing the pressure on Leah's back as if to underline his words. "You'll never fight again, we both know that. Sure, you might recover physically..." He tightened his grip, causing Leah to yelp. "Eventually." he said, smiling. "But I haven't just beaten you tonight. I've unmade you. All of your victories, all of your accomplishments? After this, they'll mean nothing. Because when people look back on your career, this will be the only fight they'll remember." He moved in closer, Tyler's mouth now so close to Leah's ear that even his whisper was audible over the sound of the baying crowd. "You came into this match a fighter. You'll leave it as just another tick in my win column."

Leah felt Tyler's grip around her wait relax. And then she felt Tyler's forehead cracking into the bridge of her nose. She staggered back, stunned. Tyler moved in quickly, placing a hand on Leah's inner thigh, another on her upper arm. Before she could react, Tyler had hoisted her onto his shoulders into a fireman carry. Except this was no heroic rescue from a burning building. With Leah in position, Tyler changed his grip, placing his left hand between Leah's legs, his palm pressing against her crotch, and the right gripping one of her bruised mammaries. Tyler took the strain. And heaved.

He lifted Leah high above his head, like a weight-lifter completing a clean and jerk. Leah cried out in pain, her entire bodyweight now being supported by Tyler's spiteful grasp on her battered pussy and stinging breasts. Worse yet, despite the intense pain she was experiencing, Leah had to endure it. The ground below her now looked a very long way down and a fall from this height could be devastating. All Leah could do was continue to suffer as Tyler paraded her aloft around the pit, as though he was hoisting a trophy. And in many ways, that's exactly what he was doing.

And then, Tyler's hands were gone. For a measure of time too small to calculate, Leah felt the blessed relief of Tyler's painful grip no longer squeezing her crotch and boob. Then, like a cartoon coyote momentarily suspended in mid-air, the realisation of what that meant suddenly occurred to Leah and she screamed. In reality, this all happened instantaneously, and Leah plummeted towards the pit floor, her body still perfectly horizontal. Fortunately for Leah, Tyler broke her fall. Unfortunately for Leah, he didn't do so in a manner that a noble superhero might gently catch a falling woman in his arms

Instead, as Leah dropped before him, Tyler leapt upwards with a flying knee strike. The pair met half way, as Tyler's ascending knee smashed into Leah's descending pussy. The cries that had accompanied Leah's fall were silenced instantly, though her mouth remained open in an expression of pure suffering. Leah's body folded around Tyler's knee, the pain in her crotch was physically indescribable. The most excruciating agony she had ever felt before today now seemed like a pin-prick in comparison to the sensation now coursing through her lower body. Leah found her voice again less than a half-a-second later when both fighters hit the floor.

Tyler landed in a squatting position. One leg was stretched out to the side, the other bent at the knee in front of him. Leah landed with her pussy still skewered over Tyler's raised knee, the impact of landing sending an aftershock of torture into her sex. Leah's screams were loud, but could be heard by nobody except Tyler. The cheers, applause, whistles and general mayhem in the crowd drowned out any other noise in the arena. With Leah collapsed over his knee like a speared fish, Tyler lifted his heel from the floor, putting the weight onto the ball of his foot.

The movement hoisted Leah's butt a little higher as the rest of her body slumped over either side of Tyler's leg, her entire weight supported only by her aching pussy atop Tyler's knee. Leah's humiliation was further compounded by the position of her head, which hung upside down, in close proximity to Tyler's throbbing cock. So close that the tip of Tyler's erect meat was rubbing against the side of her face. In what might have been a metaphor for their entire encounter, Tyler's impressive member was now as rock hard and solid as Leah's entire body was limp and flaccid.

Whist the possibility of Leah defending herself in any way was less than hypothetical at this point, Tyler still chose to grab her arms and force them behind her back. Gripping both of Leah's wrists in his left hand, Tyler applied a cruel double hammerlock, pushing her arms further and further up her back. Given the damage Tyler had already inflicted to one of Leah's elbows, it very required little movement to cause her absolute agony. So naturally, Tyler wrenched Leah's arms as hard as he possibly could. Now the crowd could hear her screams.

With his free hand, Tyler placed a finger over his lips, appealing for a moment's silence. Such was Tyler's command of the crowd, a hush descended over the previously raucous audience. With a nod of thanks, Tyler swung his hand down and slapped it across Leah's bare ass cheeks. The smack connected with a resounding crack, like a gunshot fired in the dead of night. A moment of stillness followed, broken only by Leah's quiet sobs. And then the crowd were on their feet again, a union of unbridled appreciation.

The next time, Tyler didn't need to shush the crowd. The moment his hand raised, the volume dropped again. Tyler smiled at the symmetry of his situation. He had the audience in the palm of his hand - using only the palm of his hand. He spanked Leah's butt again, the stinging impact so vicious it would have brought tears to her eyes, had they not already been so freely flowing.

Leah winced as Tyler's hand came down once more. Like so many of Tyler's blows she had suffered tonight, first came the immediate pain of impact. That sharp, intense, brutal sensation which accompanied his every blow, whether it be a hand slapping her ass, a knee in her pussy, a fist in her gut or a foot against her face. They all hurt in different ways, but all that really mattered to Leah was that they all hurt.

Then would come the burning ache, which spread from Tyler's point of contact and lingered long after the initial strike. Much of Leah's body was still experiencing this to varying degrees, depending on when Tyler had last targeted a particular body part. At various stages during the fight, Leah had hoped there was a point where her pain might plateau, where she would eventually be able to feel nothing more. But Tyler's assault had been both clinical and cumulative, ensuring that however much Leah was suffering, there would always be a way to make it worse. Even at this stage of Leah's beatdown, Tyler had found a relatively unscathed part of her anatomy with which to cause her a whole new source of pain.

Another slap, this one so hard Leah felt her teeth rattle. Her butt was on fire and every successive spank was like someone was pouring gasoline and vinegar onto each raw cheek in equal measure. It was a few more minutes before Tyler finally stopped, although his cessation brought little relief to Leah. By now, the residual pain in her ass was just as intense as the actual slapping. For the last few moments, it had only been the reactions of the crowd that had told Leah when Tyler's palm had made contact. Her buttocks were the opposite of numb, in a constant state of such agony that she could longer differentiate different levels of pain. Leah had indeed plateaued, but not in the way she had so desperately hoped for.

Tyler pushed Leah's broken body from his knee and she dropped to the floor, face down on the sand covered surface of the pit. Each tiny grain was like a little pin prick against the extensive bruises and abrasions that covered her body. Leah's tears soaked the ground beneath her face, the moisture mixing with the sand and sticking to her cheeks. Through pitiful sobs, she longed to feel Tyler's foot on her back, to hear to roar of the crowd as he posed over her. She craved the sanctuary of defeat, the blissful comfort of loss.

Tyler looked down at the shattered woman at his feet. It would have been easy to finish this now, just as it would have been at countless earlier moments during the fight. But for Tyler, it was never about the victory. After all, that was always a guarantee. Tyler's real desire, indeed his only desire whenever he fought, was his own pleasure. And nothing gave him more pleasure than inflicting pain, dominating an opponent and breaking them utterly.

It was the reason all of Tyler's fights against women went the distance. Not because any of his opponents had ever offered a genuine challenge. But because Tyler wanted to delay that victory for as long as possible. He wished to savour every moment of control, of power, of superiority. It was an intoxicating feeling, both psychologically and physically. Tyler's monstrous cock pointed skywards, throbbing and pulsating with the overwhelming pleasure that his destruction of Leah had bought him.

And just as Leah had wished for an end to her subjugation, Tyler needed release now too. It was only through sheer force of will that his cock had not yet erupted like a volcano, spraying his man-lava all across the pit. Between the last vestiges of Leah's consciousness and the urge to succumb to his cock's desperate need for satisfaction, Tyler knew it was finally time to end this.

Reaching down, he grabbed a handful of Leah's hair and pulled her viciously back to a kneeling position, his harsh grip breaking through her reverie just enough that she was at least semi-coherent again. On her knees, Leah's head was now at the same level as Tyler's rock-solid dick. Placing both of his hands on the back of her head, Tyler pulled Leah's face into his crotch, grinding his cock and balls against her battered features. She yelped weakly, as Tyler's shaft pressed onto the many accumulated bruises that his powerful fists and feet had so recently wrought on her face. Fresh tears poured down Leah's cheeks, warming Tyler's cock as he continued to dry hump her battered visage.

With an act of enormous self control, Tyler pulled himself back from Leah's head, his cock still swaying erect before her eyes, like a giant cobra, poised to strike. Tyler moved his hips slightly to the right and then quickly back, swinging his colossal member like a baseball player aiming at the first pitch of the game. Tyler's heavy cock struck the side of Leah's face with more force than the average punch. Leah's head was knocked sideways, saliva spraying from her mouth like a over-shaken soda can. Tyler's shaft struck again, this time from the opposite direction. The impact was equally brutal, as Tyler's 12-inches slammed into Leah's jaw with devastating effect.

Tyler wielded his thickset schlong like a club, beating it back and forth across Leah's bludgeoned face. As Leah's humiliating cock-beating continued, Tyler became more and more aroused, with each destructive impact increasing the heft and girth of his meat weapon. Naturally, this then increased the impact of each strike, which would then arouse Tyler even more. It soon became an ever intensifying cycle; the harder Tyler's cock became, the harder he could hit. And the harder he could hit, the harder his cock became. It slammed into Leah's face again, the resounding thwump of contact accompanied by Leah's slurred grunt of pain.

A big part of Tyler (both figuratively and literally) wanted to stay in this moment forever. The crowd cheering, his throbbing cock pummelling the face of his defeated opponent, the feeling of absolute supremacy was exhilarating. But he knew there could be more. Tyler had given Leah her first taste of defeat. Now she would swallow it.

Tyler took a step forward, letting his dick once again rub against Leah's face. He didn't linger this time, instead stepping over Leah's shoulders, one leg at a time. Still on her knees, Leah was forced to lean further backwards, her head now trapped between Tylers toned thighs. Tyler's balls covered Leah's mouth and her shallow breath was warm against his skin. Still fighting a now desperate need to satisfy himself then and there, Tyler reached down with one hand took a hold of Leah's hair.

Pulling her slightly away from his crotch, Tyler's other hand reached for his shaft and pushed it downwards, positioning the bulbous head against Leah's lips. In her semi-conscious state, Leah could offer little resistance as Tyler forced the tip of his cock into her mouth. Once it had passed her lips, Tyler placed both hands on the back of Leah's head and pulled her back into his crotch, sliding every inch of his rock solid penis across her tongue and deep down her throat as he did so. Stopping only when his balls were pressed against Leah's chin, Tyler shifted the position of his feet on the floor below. Placing one foot behind the other and locking his ankles, Tyler's thighs immediately tightened around Leah's head.

As had been the case for most of the fight, Leah was now suffering on multiple fronts. Her jaw had been forced painfully wide to accommodate the substantial girth of Tyler's cock and she was choking on the thick rod that she could feel beyond her larynx. Unfortunately, Tyler's crushing headscissors meant she could not even pull away even an inch, much less the twelve inches that currently filled her trachea. Leah clawed weakly at Tyler's thighs with her one remaining functioning arm, but an ocean wave gently lapping against a cliff face would make a greater impression than anything Leah's weakened body was now capable of.

Tyler looked down into Leah's eyes, already wet from her constant tears but now also watering as result of the enormous cock which was stimulating her gag reflex. He tensed the muscles in his glutes, which caused his thighs to squeeze even more tightly around Leah's head. He could feel his cock swelling, beating like a heart. He began to thrust his hips in time with each steady throb, forcing Leah's head back and forth as he did so. Tyler was close now. So close.

He fixed his gaze on Leah. Her eyes looked back, pleading for a mercy she knew would not come. She was exactly where Tyler wanted her to be, not only physically but emotionally. Broken. Humiliated. Shamed. The fighter was gone and there remained only Leah. Helpless, defeated and without hope. She was ready. And so was he.

Tyler breathed deeply and let himself go. For a second, there was only stillness. And then came the first wave, surging through his body like a bolt of electricity. Pleasure filled Tyler's every cell, coursed through his veins, culminating at his pulsating shaft. He shot his first load with the same aggression that had brought him to this place, his hot seed pumping down Leah's throat like a tsunami.

Her resultant choking and gagging only served to increase Tyler's thrill and he came again, harder still this time. He arched his back as his body was wracked with the overwhelming sensation of sheer ecstasy, his cock now gushing cum into Leah without pause or respite. There was no option between spitting or swallowing for Leah, Tyler's thick semen filled her gullet, her mouth, her nostrils, leaking out where it could and running down her chin.

As Tyler's body stiffened with raw satisfaction, his thighs tightened around Leah's head. Normally, the headscissors alone would have been enough to knock her out, but the fat cock which now occupied her neck and beyond was denying her that benign relief. And so Leah remained a prisoner of her own cognisance, her existence now only sheer pain and complete humiliation.

Through his state of euphoria, Tyler became aware that the crowd were once again chanting. Amid a swell of cheers every time he emptied another load into Leah, a chorus of "FINISH HER! FINISH HER!" began growing in volume. Still not completely satiated, Tyler vowed to give the crowd want they wanted and complete his total breakdown of Leah. Placing a hand in Leah's dishevelled hair, Tyler loosened his thighs and slowly removed his cock from Leah's throat, like a mighty warrior pulling a sword from the belly of a mighty beast.

A cocktail of drool and cum spilled from Leah's lips as Tyler slid out of her mouth. Still holding Leah's hair, Tyler grabbed the base of his shaft in his other hand and positioned his dick directly in front of her face. "Yes?" he cried out to the voracious audience.

"YES!!!" came the thunderous response.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!!!!!" screamed Tyler and hosed Leah's piteous face with a torrent of his still warm man-cream. Leah's features were doused, soaked in a thick layer of cum, Tyler's sticky juices mixing with her own sweat, blood, saliva and tears. A final eruption splashed into her face like the crashing tide until Tyler was finally drained dry. With his cock still in his hand, Tyler wiped the tip across Leah's lips, smearing the final drips of goo onto her lolling tongue.

Turning his attention away from Leah, but maintaining his grip on her hair, Tyler called into the crowd. "Hey Phil!" he shouted over the celebrating masses, "Phone!"

"You got it, Boss" came a voice from somewhere in audience. Suddenly, a cell phone was tossed into the pit, in the direction of Tyler. He caught it expertly with his free hand before crouching down so as to address Leah.

"D'you know why I don't care about all the belts and medals that I win," he asked conversationally, knowing that Leah was in no condition to reply. The only noise from her mouth was a low groan, a tearless, pathetic, sobbing. It didn't matter to Tyler though. He knew that she could hear him. And he knew that she could understand. "OK, I'll tell you why," he continued. "All that stuff, they're just trinkets. Meaningless baubles representing a victory. But why would I care about that, I always win, right? Well hey, look who I'm talking to!" Tyler laughed loudly before speaking again.

"Trophies, though. Trophies are different. Trophies are important. And I don't mean the big gold cups with handles and engravings and all that crap. A trophy can be anything you want it to be. D'you want to see my trophies, Leah?" The only response from Leah was the same sound she had been making since the end of the fight. "I'll take that as a yes!" said Tyler.

Deftly swiping the screen of his phone with his thumb, Tyler opened up a photo-gallery. Selecting a picture at random, Tyler held the phone close to Leah's face, ensuring that even through the haze of her blurred vision and semi-conscious state, she could still see the images. On the screen was a selfie, a close up of two faces. One of the faces was Tyler, beaming joyfully. The other face was of a woman. A young blonde, perhaps, but Leah could not tell. The woman's features were bruised, bloodied, distorted. A sheen of sticky white fluid covered her face, and dribbled from her mouth in thick trails.

Tyler's thumb swiped left and the picture was replaced by another. Again, Tyler's smiling face looked back at Leah, but this time he was alongside a cum-drenched redhead. One of her eyes was black and closed, her nose flattened and her lips so swollen as to look almost comical. Tyler swiped again, revealing his flawless features and broad grin next to another beaten and doused woman. And then another. And another. And another. "You see," said Tyler, scrolling through photo after photo of his emphatic victories. "These are my trophies. You are my trophies. Beating another fighter is just a result, a record that goes in a book. But ending a fighter. That's how you know you're the best. And that's how I know."

He pulled Leah's face alongside his own and held up the phone in front of them. "Smile!" said Tyler as a flash momentarily blinded Leah. As her vision cleared, albeit to the limited range that she could currently achieve, Tyler was again holding the display in her eyeline. At first, Leah thought Tyler was showing her another of his old trophies, an opponent from the past. It took a few seconds before she realised the demolished, lifeless, cum-sodden face on the screen was her own.

"You won't fight again" said Tyler. "Nobody I've defeated ever has. They just disappear, fade away into perpetual anonymity. The only time you'll be remembered will be as a clip in my highlight reel. But I'll remember you, Leah." Tyler waved the phone in her face as he rose to his feet and stood in front of the kneeling, sobbing Leah. "You're in my trophy cabinet now. Just another inferior fighter who thought she knew better, who thought she was going to teach me a lesson."

He took a step back and smiled. "You just didn't realise who the teacher really was." Tyler's foot lashed out and cracked across Leah's cheek with enough force to send her flying across the pit floor. She was unconscious before she hit the ground, face first on the sand covered surface. Tyler walked over to her inert body and rolled Leah onto her back, before placing his bare sole across her muddied features.

It had been a good day.
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Old 13-Aug-19, 02:36
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

good one ,it's very rare to see a maledom story here ,need more of these
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Old 16-Aug-19, 18:56
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

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Originally Posted by habib [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
good one ,it's very rare to see a maledom story here ,need more of these
Thanks Habib. Glad you and a few others enjoyed it.

The story behind this story is almost as involved as the actual story itself. Earlier this year, I rediscovered my writing muse and completed a few chapters of my ongoing story, [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register] After completing Chapter Three, I took what was only intended to be a short break from Jerek, just to plan ahead for subsequent instalments. In the meantime, to fill the gap, I planned to post an old story that I had written for a Yahoo Group, way back in the day, probably at least ten years ago. I still had a copy of the story so I figured I'd just copy and paste it here as a little diversion until I returned to Jerek.

Except it didn't quite work out like that. When I looked back through the original story, I decided I'd make some tweaks, updating just a few things here and there to reflect my changing tastes and writing style ten years on. And at first, that's exactly what I did. I updated the characters names, added a little more characterisation, nothing major. But, with every little change came a few more changes... and then a few more... and more. It kind of became the opposite of writer's block - Instead of struggling to write a story, I didn't know how to stop writing it!

When I was writing Jerek, I think that both the structure of an ongoing narrative and the fact that the male character in that story is essentially 'defending himself' (albeit comprehensively!) made it easy to bring the fights to an end at a certain point. But with this story, where the only plot to speak of is the fight itself, and where the male character is fighting because he is enjoying it, so the fight just kept on going and going. And going! Most of my maledom stories have always been along similar lines to Jerek, with the male character as the underdog and the 'good guy'. And as much as that's still my preference, this story has definitely opened my eyes to the fun of writing for someone a little less morally driven.

Actually, to really illustrate just how different this story became from the original version that I was simply going to cut and paste, I'll dig it out and add it here later. obviously, I can't justify starting another thread for it. As different as it now is, it is still essentially the same story. But it'll be interesting to see the two stories side by side!
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Old 18-Aug-19, 11:19
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

So, here's the story in it's original edit, before I rewrote it considerably. Most of the changes I made are simply more action and little more background on the fighters, though there was one incident in this version that I actually removed from the later story, as you will see.

THE PIT​


In so much as anyone can be, Brad was perfect. Physically, at least. Toned, without being too muscular, his blond hair cropped to precision and his face was smooth, handsome and with a gleaming smile so white, he could have stood on the coastline and kept ships at bay at night. What was all the more surprising about his good looks was that Brad was, and had been for many of his 27 years, a boxer. Bare knuckle. Whilst his peers often displayed the tell-tale signs of years in the ring, be it broken noses, permanent scars (not caused by evil wizards whose name cannot not be mentioned) or ears that were anything but symmetrical, Brad's features were as flawless as they had been the day he first entered the ring. Indeed, it was his enormous vanity which had made him such an efficient fighter. With a record of 33-0 victories against both men and women, 24 by knockout and 15 of those in the opening two rounds, it was clears that Brad's narcissism was as much an effective defence as his fighting ability. Nobody touches the face.

In the ring, Brad was moments away from adding one more statistic to all of the three previously listed records, as he rained punches on another woefully outclassed opponent. A young brunette woman, no more than 24 years old, was staggering around the canvas, her vacant face bruised and swollen. Brad sunk a fist into the battered girl's gut, doubling her over. The crowd cheered and booed in equal measure, but Brad bathed in any recognition, arrogantly raising his hands above his head and walking slowly around his clearly already beaten opponent. She stood upright, still breathing heavily and looked around blankly for Brad, who was now standing behind her. Tapping her gently on the shoulder, he waited as she turned around.

Obviously almost out her feet, her fists were barely raised above waist height when she faced Brad and he swiftly made her pay for her complacency. A left hook slammed into her jaw, knocking her head sideways. A right cross did the same, smacking her back in the other direction. Brad began to deliver rights and lefts in rapid succession. Each one would have sent the woman to the canvas but he kept her on her feet by keeping his blows quick, and continuing to alternate between left and right punches, pounding her jaw like a tennis ball going back and forth across a net.

From the corner of his eye, Brad noticed the referee approaching fast, undoubtedly with the intention of stopping the fight. Determined not to be denied yet another first round knockout (for it was just 126 seconds into the match), Brad quickly took a quick sidestep so that his own body obscured the referee's view of his brunette punching bag. Brad then powered his fist deep into the beaten girl's crotch, the pain intense enough to snap her out of her punch-drunk stupor just long enough for her to emit a guttural yelp, before a thunderous uppercut caught her cold directly on the chin and she collapsed backwards into the ropes, hanging limply like a butterfly trapped in a spider's web. Before the referee was on the scene, Brad quickly shook the ropes with his hands, causing his opponent to slump face forwards onto the canvas. Brad stepped aside and allowed the official to make the formal, but wholly unnecessary ten count over the comatose woman.

As Brad paraded the ring, basking in the crowd's equal adulation and loathing, he noticed a face in the crowd. A blonde woman with an attractive but currently impassive face. She shook her head slightly at Brad's delight in his effortless victory and Brad grinned smugly as her blew her an exaggerated kiss. "You're next, Tina." He called out across the sound of the baying crowds. "Think you'll last longer than this one?" he sneered, waving towards the still unconscious woman on the canvas. "Hey," he shouted, a thought suddenly occurring to him, "How about a taste of things to come?" he asked, and moved back towards the knocked out female.

The referee was still in the ring and made a move to stop Brad. However, one look into Brad's eyes quickly changed his mind and he quickly clambered through the ropes. Alone with his recent prey, Brad pulled the woman back to her feet. Her consciousness was returning slowly, but she was still in no state to support her own weight. Ever the gentleman, Brad dragged her to the corner of the ring, the corner nearest to Tina's seat in the crowd. Brad hung the woozy female's arms over the ropes on either side of the corner-post, her back leaning against it. He twisted the ropes around each of her wrists for good measure, as she stirred. "Whhuuu.....?" She mumbled weakly, her eyes opening gradually as her cognitive functions slowly came back.

Brad took one last look into the crowd, his stare connecting directly with Tina's. "We fight in three weeks time," he shouted. "And here's just a little of what you'll be getting...." Turning his attention solely on his defenceless punchbag, Brad ploughed a fist deep into her soft belly. She grunted as the blow connected, eliciting an "OOOMMFFFF!!!" With her arms trapped, the woman's natural instinct to clutch her stomach was denied. Instead her legs lifted off the canvas, as she doubled up in pain. She was far too weak too hold them up for long though, and they dropped back down, allowing her winded gut no relief.

Any respite would have been short-lived anyway as Brad again slammed a punch into her stomach, once more causing the helpless female to utter a breathless "UUUNMMMMPPPPHHHHH!!!" as Brad's fist drove into her belly. The muscled fighter began to dance on his feet, as though ready to avoid a barrage of punches from his opponent that was clearly not coming.

"Let's see if I can find a way through your defence here," he mocked at his trussed target, bobbing and weaving before slamming a vicious right hook crashing into her cheek. Her head rocked sideways and she grunted a pained, "Unnkkkkkhhhh!!!" as his fist connected with absolute conviction. "I think you've left yourself open a little on your left too," he smirked, and delivered a left cross that sent a spray of spittle spraying from the woman's mouth as his punch hit home. The two successive strikes had been almost enough to send the woman back to dreamland, and would have done had Brad not been holding back just enough to prolong his showboating. Her head slumped forward woozily, so much so that Brad's subsequent uppercut caught her full in the face, momentarily distorting what had been an attractive visage before the match had started. The impact snapped her head backwards, and left her staring up into the arena's ceiling lights. The woman's eyes were still open, but glazed over, suggesting that her own lights may have been on but there was no-one home. Brad decided to knock and see.

Brad's knuckles ploughed decisively into her groin, the soft almost inaudible thump as fist hit silk shorts a stark contrast to the intense pain the blow had clearly caused. The woman's legs closed involuntarily around Brad's hand and she gurgled a strangled yelp of agony. Her head jerked upright, her face contorted in pain and tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. "Oh hey, you are still with us," exclaimed Brad. "I'm glad to hear it." He grinned. "Let's hear it again." His fist slammed into her crotch a second time, causing her to cry out again; it was a guttural high pitched animalistic grunt that highlighted her loss of any control. Tears now flowed freely down her face, and then showered the nearby fans in front row seats and Brad's merciless flurry of lefts and rights smacked her head from side to side, each blow spraying her sweat, spit and tears from her face.

Tina had seen enough and leapt from her seat. She sprinted to the ring and climbed through the ropes, determined to put a stop to the beatdown she was witnessing. Placing herself directly between Brad and the groaning woman hanging on the turnbuckle, she stared into the vicious fighter's eyes. "I'm going to make you pay for this," she said through gritted teeth. "I don't care where, when or how. You call it, I'll be there"

Brad shrugged his shoulders. "What's the problem? She's perfectly OK, look." He waved casually towards the woman behind Tina, who automatically turned slightly to look behind her. Instantly realising her mistake, Tina quickly turned back to face Brad - but it was too late. His fist slammed into her unprotected gut, doubling her over with an almighty "WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRPPPPPHHHHHHH!!!". He followed up with an uppercut to her face, his fist connecting with a smack that resounded around the arena as a stunned Tina fell backwards. Unable to control her descent, the back of Tina's head cracked into the already aching groin of the woman she had entered the ring to protect. The woman groaned in agony one last time before unconsciousness finally overcame her. She slumped forwards, falling from the ropes and landing in a tangled mess of limbs on top of the equally KO'd Tina.

Brad smirked. "Ladies, please. Get a room!" He raised his hands in victory, already eagerly anticipating his imminent match with Tina. And he knew just what sort of match he wanted.


* * * * * * * * * *


The floor of the pit was sandy, and felt deceptively soft underfoot. Brad knew it was less forgiving when you were slammed into it, although that knowledge came purely from the expressions on the faces of the many opponents he had done that to in the pit, over many years of combat. It wasn't something he'd ever experienced first-hand.

The pit was circular, with a diameter of only about six metres. The enclosed space made avoiding your opponent almost impossible, something Brad relished. On numerous occasions during Brad's matches, his opponent had tried to flee when they had realised just how outclassed they were; but the pit had given them nowhere to go. There were no doors, no openings of any kind around the solid stone wall of the pit. Fighters were lowered into the arena, by means of a rope pulley system. Once you were in, you left as either winner, unconscious, or worse.

Although the are of the pit was small, the walls surrounding it were considerably higher, almost twenty feet around its circumference. Glancing upwards, Brad could see a ring of faces leaning over the wall of the pit, looking down in eager anticipation at the contest that was soon to begin. Many of the women were gazing appreciatively at Brad; unsurprisingly perhaps given that he was wearing only a smile. He was not remotely self conscious about his naked form, indeed it had been Brad himself who had decided on the apparel - or more specifically, lack of apparel for his upcoming match with Tina. The entire surface of his muscled physique glistened under the artificial lights of the pit, whilst his considerably larger than average cock hung between his legs, attracting intense stares from some of the women present.

As Brad smiled back at his appreciative fans, mentally picking out the two or three women he might invite back to his hotel when the match was over, he heard a cheer erupt from the crowd. The heads that circled the pit parted at one point, and a foot swung over the pit wall, resting in a looped rope. The rest of Tina's body followed and she was soon being lowered into the pit as the cheers from above increased, some for her, some for Brad and most simply in anticipation of the upcoming match. When the rope was a few feet from the pit floor, Tina jumped the remaining distance, landing perfectly but not unable to stop gravity causing her ample breasts to bounce somewhat as her feet hit the floor.

Like Brad, Tina wore nothing. Her physique was one of near perfection. Blond, shoulder length hair framed a beautiful face, her button nose and winning smile had broken almost as many men's hearts as she had broken bones. Her 36 inch chest was all her own and it moved in unison with her steady breathing as she awaited the start of the match. Before she had begun her successful fight career, Tina had been a fitness model for many years, winning numerous competitions. It had been her competitive nature that had brought her to the world of mixed combat, and it was a world that she had excelled in, with the same immense success as her modelling career.

There was no bell in the pit. The fight would begin as soon as both fighters were present and the pulley-rope was removed. Tina did not even need to look to know that the rope was now gone, indeed she made a point not to take her eyes off of Brad for even a fraction of a second, remembering all-too-well the outcome, the last time she had done that. Brad's arrogance showed no sign of abating as he walked up to the former fitness model, making no obvious attempt to defend himself. They stared, chest to chest, eyeball to eyeball for a few seconds, the crowd falling silent at the intensity displayed between both fighters.

Tina made the first move, her fist speeding towards Brad's face. He expertly sidestepped the punch, responding with one of his own that Tina did not avoid, the left cross catching her full on the cheek. The quick strike gave him an opening for an early salvo, following up his initial punch with a combination of rights and lefts, all hitting home as a surprised Tina tried to cover up. As she brought her guard up, Brad took his attack downstairs. Tina's washboard stomach was tough, but Brad's punches were powerful, fast and stinging in their application and they slowly began to wear the athletic woman down.

Tina found himself being forced backwards and in the enclosed space of the pit it was not long before the cold concrete wall brought her retreat to a halt. She kept his guard up, her forearms blocking some of Brad's blows to her gut. But she was unable to prevent many of them slamming into her ribs and kidneys, the constant powerful pummelling was already taking its toll.

In desperation, Tina dropped her guard and began to throw random punches, in the hope of keeping Brad at a distance until she her breath returned. Brad sidestepped her flailing fists with ease, and caught the unsuspecting blonde with a quick right cross, smacking her head sideways. A subsequent left cross knocked her head the other way, causing her to grunt in pain. Brad smiled and slammed his knee into her stomach. She uttered a winded "Ouuupphhh!!", her body jolting with the impact. Brad followed up with another harsh knee to the gut, this one lower, just above her crotch. As his knee thumped into Tina's soft flesh, she groaned as white hot pain spread through her lower belly.

Tina groaned considerably louder and longer when Brad's knee rose again, this time stopping only when it smashed into her exposed groin. Her entire body spasmed at the moment Brad's knee slammed into her crotch, the pain causing Tina to unleash a high pitched "UUUURRRGHHHLLLLLLLL!!!!" With her hands dropping to her tender area, Brad again went to work on the blonde's face. A right hook crashed into the side her mouth, altering her cry of pain that accompanied the blow into a "UUMMMMFFFFF!!" Brad followed up with a series of jabs; quick, snapping, powerful punches directly into Tina's face. Her head jerked back each time, accompanied by an "Unnngghh!" or an "Unnnkkkk!!". Every jab smacked full into Tina's face, her nose and mouth taking the brunt of the punishment. A vicious and perfectly placed uppercut slammed into Tina's chin, almost lifting her feet from the floor of the pit. She would surely have fallen backwards but the pit wall was behind her and she instead fell back against it, barely able to stay standing.

Brad turned away from the dazed blonde, his arms raised as he looked up to the crowd surrounding the pit. The cheers were enormous - there were no good guys and bad guys as far as a pit audience was concerned. You were either winner or loser, and were recognised accordingly by the assembled spectators. Satisfied with a moment's adulation, Brad turned back to Tina. He had only just begun.

Standing in front of the defenceless woman, Brad pulled his arm back, ready to unleash another punch. Before he could, Brad noticed a change in the crowd's reaction. In a moment their cheers of adulation had changed to a chorus of surprise. Unaware of what had caused the audience to sound so shocked, Brad looked up. Sliding down a rope secured at the top of the pit was the woman Brad had beaten a few weeks previously. The woman Tina had attempted to help. Brad could not help but smile at the symmetry of the situation.

The woman was naked, and so obviously here to fight. She reached the floor of the pit and turned to face Brad. Though it had been some time since their last encounter, many of the bruises from her contest with Brad were still visible. "Leave her alone," said the brunette, with more determination than her battle-worn body suggested she should have. "It's over." In a Hollywood movie, such a defiant stand for a friend would have most likely been accompanied by a crescendo of epic music and followed by an enormous cheer by the crowd. But this was real life, and the audience were here to see a fight. They hurled abuse at Tina's would-be saviour, angry at her attempt to halt their entertainment.

Brad grinned at the crowd's predictable response. "I'm sorry," he said to the brunette, "I didn't catch your name the last time we met."

"It's Anna UNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!" replied the brunette. Anna's surname was not in fact UNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGggghhhhhhhhhhhhhh. The noise she had made had actually been response to Brad's foot thudding into her crotch. The noise she made accompanied her slow collapse to her knees. A merciless roundhouse kick to the face brought a swift end to Anna's rescue attempt and left her unconscious on the floor of the pit, a small amount of drool dribbled from her mouth, moistening the sand beneath her face.

Brad looked down at the defeated woman with the closest thing he ever could ever get to pity. Which, in all honesty, wasn't very close at all. Suddenly Tina was on him, her arm wrapping around his throat as she jumped onto his back. Her legs snaked around his waist, attempting to crush the life out of the surprised fighter. In a ring surrounded by ropes, Tina's plan might have succeeded. In the confines of the pit however, it was bound to fail. Before Tina could do any serious damage, Brad backstepped quickly into the outer wall of the pit, slamming Tina against it with enough impact to loosen the grip of her legs from his body. Her arm remained around his neck, but with less strength now. Brad drove his right elbow sharply backwards, digging it deeply into Tina's soft belly. Her subsequent guttural "OOOOOOUUUUFFFFF!!!" breathed warm air directly onto his left ear. Enjoying the sensation, Brad repeated the move with his left elbow, again winding the woman now hanging limply on his back. Eager to make the most of Tina's prone position, Brad suddenly leant forwards, flipping Tina off his back and onto her own back, she fell crashing onto the unforgiving surface of the pit directly in front of him.

Brad smiled at the benefits of Tina's position. Beneficial for him. She was on her back, looking upwards through dazed eyes. Her head was only inches from his feet, and she was lying directly in line with his now very aroused manhood. For Brad, it was an opportunity too good to miss. Dropping to his knees, Brad straddled the blonde's surprised face with his crotch, pinning her arms under his knees. His balls smothered her mouth and nose and he could immediately feel her struggling for breath beneath him. Her body lay before him, completely unprotected. Brad did not need any more invitation than that and began to slam punch after punch into Tina's gut and breasts, each impact causing her body to spasm. Muffled grunts of pain came from the vicinity of Brad's groin, as Tina's breath warmed his balls whilst his onslaught continued unabated.

Bringing his fists together as if in prayer to some deity of fighters, Brad's intentions were not so divine. Slamming them down in unison, they pounded into Tina's exposed crotch. A muffled yelp of pain brought a smile to Brad's face as Tina's body curled into a foetal position, clearly in sheer agony. Lifting his crotch from her face, he looked down between his legs and smiled at Tina, who was simultaneously trying to draw breath and groaning in pain. "Still conscious then?" he observed. "Let's see what we can do about that."

Standing up, Brad dragged Tina to her feet. She had the strength to stand, but to do little else. Right now, the simple (and soon to be essential) act of defending herself was as likely as Tina suddenly learning how to play the piano. A bare foot smacked across her face, knocking her sideways with a dazed "Unnnhh...!" The same foot met her face again, this time knocking her in the other direction. And again to the left. And to the right. Brad was executing roundhouse kick after roundhouse kick, the sole of his right foot hammering Tina's face with the steady rhythm of a metronome, though with the usual 'tick tock' replaced with "Smack! Unnh! Smack! Ummfff!" The crowd began to clap in time with each of Brad's kicks, clapping faster and Brad responding in kind by kicking more rapidly. After one last kick, Brad turned away from Tina's now glassy-eyed, drooling and extremely bruised face. With his back to Tina, he bowed deeply to the crowd. They roared in appreciation as, without rising from the bow, he executed a back heel kick that caught Tina full in the face, momentarily crushing her features into a distorted mess, her mouth twisted, her nose flattened by Brad's unstoppable heel. Tina staggered backwards, steadying herself against the pit wall.

It was time to end it. But that didn't mean Brad wasn't going to make it last as long as possible. Perhaps longer.

Brad moved in with a series of punches to Tina's soft belly, each one causing what little breath remained in her lungs to expel with each "OOOFFF!! WHUUUPPHHHH!!!UUURKKKKKHHH!!!" A vicious left hook sent Tina's head spinning into the path of an equally merciless right hook. Brad repeated the left/right combination three times, smacking Tina around the pit like a pi√Īata. Pausing for a moment, Brad opened and closed his fists, flexing his fingers. The closest thing he had come to any kind of injury in this contest was a slight reddening of his knuckles, a side effect of their repeated and punishing contact with numerous parts of Tina's body.

Deciding to switch things up, Brad returned to a kicking assault. The first, a front snap kick that pierced Tina's gut like a spear. She doubled over instantly, her mouth open in a silent, breathless wheeze. Grasping a handlful of hair in his hand, Brad held Tina in her stooped position and cracked his knee into her face. Her body momentarily slumped on impact, a split second of unconsciousness that unfortunately for Tina, did not last.

Still holding Tina's hair tightly, Brad jerked her upright and delivered another merciless knee strike, directly between her thighs. She emitted a yelped gurgle, the tortured expression on her face painted a clear picture of the pain she was experiencing. And it was picture Brad was keen to keep creating. He released Tina's hair, and took a firm grip of her shoulders before driving another relentless knee strike into her pussy. And another. And another. Her squeals of anguish had now become just a continuous low groan that momentarily increased in pitch with the impact of every vicious knee strike.

The knee strikes soon gave way to another succession of roundhouse kicks, each one impacting on Tina's face with pinpoint precision. The soles of Brad's feet slammed into her cheeks, her face, her nose, her mouth, her chin. Over and over and over, his technique as graceful as a ballet dancer, as powerful as a pro-footballer. Tina felt the impact of every blow, what little capacity she had for rational thought was now only able to process the pain she was in, and the realisation of her humbling defeat. Brad's feet struck again and again, now targeting her entire body indiscriminately. Kick after kick pummelled Tina's broken body as foot met crotch, gut, ribs, breasts, chin, thighs....

Finally, Brad decided it was enough. Not out of any sense of pity or mercy, Brad experienced neither such emotion during a fight. But his now effortless domination of yet another challenger had aroused him to almost bursting point, and it was time to satiate his other carnal desires. A spinning heel kick connected with devastating accuracy against Tina's chin. The impact sent her spinning a full 180 degrees, and by the time she was facing Brad again, his foot was already on route to her head. Brad's sole impacted against Tina's features with an audible crunch and she instantly slumped forwards, landing face first onto the sandy surface of the pit. Unmoving.

The crowd began the somewhat redundant ten count. Each number was followed by a rousing cheer as Brad used his foot to roll Tina onto her back. Her now puffy eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. He placed his foot gently on her face as the count continued. "Seven... Eight... Nine... TEN!!!"

The crowd erupted, now seemingly all fans of Brad, such was the hypnotic power of his dominant display. Brad took a final glance at his two beaten opponents and smiled. Maybe next time 2 vs 1 wouldn't be such a bad idea, he mused. Frankly, he needed a challenge!
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Old 22-Aug-19, 20:14
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

Wow, man, I’ve only read the prologue so far, but this is kind of making me want to get back into it. You’ve pulled this off so perfectly. It’s not often you find a maledom story where the domination is so complete. I actually love it. Can’t wait to read the rest!!!
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Old 24-Aug-19, 17:35
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

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Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Wow, man, Iíve only read the prologue so far, but this is kind of making me want to get back into it. Youíve pulled this off so perfectly. Itís not often you find a maledom story where the domination is so complete. I actually love it. Canít wait to read the rest!!!
Thanks man. Hope you enjoyed the story in its entirety.
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Old 24-Aug-19, 18:26
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

Good stories
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Old 29-Aug-19, 00:05
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

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Thanks man. Hope you enjoyed the story in its entirety.
I did. In fact, I really enjoyed both the final version and the original version. I think you do a great job of setting the tone and then just rolling with it, and continuing to roll with it until the inevitable conclusion.

I think what I really enjoyed about it was how brutal Tyler was in his systematic destruction of Leah. That, and the way she was completely overpowered and outclassed. As far as the way he finished her, I don't really tend to go for the forced oral stuff, not so much as it relates to consent (since both fighters agree to no rules in the pit, consent is essentially implied because she knows what he'll do if he wins... Whereas she could rip his junk off or something if she wins), but in relation to the narrative of the fight. It's more of a humiliation tactic than a finishing move... but you made it work by showing us how Tyler uses psychological warfare to break his opponents' spirits.

If I had written it, it probably would have ended with more of a brutal finishing move, rather than a sexual one... but that's what makes your writing yours--and it's excellent writing.

I'm particularly interested in this world that Tyler and Leah live in, where there is a lightweight intergender fighting league. Of course in real life, it would never work, unless we adjusted the weight classes to give more of an advantage to women, and only let smaller guys enter... the amount of math I've done trying to figure it out has been a fool's errand.

But the picture you painted of Tyler's destruction of Jenna in the prologue is exactly the kind of thing that I love. It implies the existence of a contest in which either party has a reasonable chance of being victorious, which already makes things exciting. Jenna was also wearing the kind of outfit that automatically grabs my attention. The finish here was especially great--the knee to the chin was incredibly cinematic, and Leah's failed rescue attempt was the totally unexpected but welcomed cherry on top.

Finally, it's just refreshing to read something so unabashedly maledom-oriented that is actually intelligently written. Too often it's either very poor writing, or it's unsatisfying in some way or another (I think we all have a slightly different version of this kink, after all).

I'll be working on finishing my Closing Shift series soon, or at least writing the third chapter for the foreseeable future. Your writing is a big part of getting me to think about that project again. So thank you.

And I hope to read more of Tyler's conquests soon. Hell, I'd even be interested in reading more about Jenna or Leah sometime--win or lose.
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Old 29-Aug-19, 15:35
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Default Re: Tyler vs Leah: The Hardest Lesson (Maledom)

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Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I think what I really enjoyed about it was how brutal Tyler was in his systematic destruction of Leah. That, and the way she was completely overpowered and outclassed. As far as the way he finished her, I don't really tend to go for the forced oral stuff, not so much as it relates to consent (since both fighters agree to no rules in the pit, consent is essentially implied because she knows what he'll do if he wins... Whereas she could rip his junk off or something if she wins), but in relation to the narrative of the fight. It's more of a humiliation tactic than a finishing move... but you made it work by showing us how Tyler uses psychological warfare to break his opponents' spirits.

If I had written it, it probably would have ended with more of a brutal finishing move, rather than a sexual one... but that's what makes your writing yours--and it's excellent writing.
It's interesting you say that. I did give strong consideration to adding a big finishing move after Tyler had satiated his 'other' needs. The only reason I eventually decided against it and finished on just a simple kick was the feeling I mentioned earlier, that I was perhaps over-writing the story. I honestly think that if I had tried to write just one more move, it could very easily have led into another three or four pages of punishment from Tyler!

Out of writer's curiosity, what sort of 'brutal finishing move' might you have used to finish the fight?

Quote:
Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
I'm particularly interested in this world that Tyler and Leah live in, where there is a lightweight intergender fighting league. Of course in real life, it would never work, unless we adjusted the weight classes to give more of an advantage to women, and only let smaller guys enter... the amount of math I've done trying to figure it out has been a fool's errand.

But the picture you painted of Tyler's destruction of Jenna in the prologue is exactly the kind of thing that I love. It implies the existence of a contest in which either party has a reasonable chance of being victorious, which already makes things exciting. Jenna was also wearing the kind of outfit that automatically grabs my attention. The finish here was especially great--the knee to the chin was incredibly cinematic, and Leah's failed rescue attempt was the totally unexpected but welcomed cherry on top.
Exactly. I did consider setting the story in "the near future" and adding some explanation behind the inter-gender fighting. There was even a point when I was going to include the idea that the fighters were fitted with a device that would match their strength and speed exactly. But ultimately, it all felt a bit unnecessary and I should just let the narrative set the scene and allow the reader to fill in the gaps themselves.

Ultimately, my main impetus (as it is with all my maledom fiction) was in ensuring that Tyler's victory was 100% down to his skill, rather than any perceived physical advantage. Maledom media is already rare, and I find myself sadly disinterested in a lot of it because it often portrays a significantly larger man dominating a smaller woman. And that does nothing for me. The guy's bigger,so of course he's going to win. And as such, there's no humiliation for the loser, no genuine sense of superiority for the victor. For me, perfect Maledom is when a female fighter is outclassed, rather than outmuscled.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Bi0mega [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Finally, it's just refreshing to read something so unabashedly maledom-oriented that is actually intelligently written. Too often it's either very poor writing, or it's unsatisfying in some way or another (I think we all have a slightly different version of this kink, after all).

I'll be working on finishing my Closing Shift series soon, or at least writing the third chapter for the foreseeable future. Your writing is a big part of getting me to think about that project again. So thank you.
Thank you, for all the kind words and feedback. Suffice to say, I don't think anyone posts a 100% Maledom story on this board expecting many likes, so any feedback/critique is always really very much appreciated. And yes, Tyler will certainly return at some point. You can't keep a bad man down!

Last edited by FootPower; 29-Aug-19 at 16:36.
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