Thread: A Day in the Arena (Azayzal and Minderbinder)

They said that one's freedom was never easily bought, and yet even so this was ridiculous. The offer had come in only the night before, an unsightly gentlemen of generous paunch and a wicked grin bringing it forth. He'd told her that he was the owner of an arena, packed away in the grimy recesses of the city. It was a place where battle upon battle took place, soul clashing against soul in a desperate bid for victory. Nestled in the back of her cell, wrists nearly raw from being bound so tightly, the eighteen year old could do little more than scowl as her own baggy eyes met his leer. Battle? Absurd, she'd told herself. She'd never fought with a weapon, let alone wielded one. She hardly looked the sort either. While hardly petite, the girl was a bit on the small side. Yet, as the man had been quick to correct her, the battles fought within his arena were hardly a test of weaponry and bloodshed. They were...of a different variety. Body against body, soul against a soul. Fierce kisses, teasing caresses, and so much more. Though it was a test of submission, it was more of mind than body. What he'd said was hard to believe at first, her nearly-empty stomach churning with a mixture of disgust and bafflement. Such honeyed words, and yet what it came down to was something beyond depraved. Did he think that all her pride had been squandered? That she'd get on her knees and lap up the first opportunity to come about? Yet, while the temptation to throw the offer back in the man's face was certainly there, something made her dwell upon it. It was the prize. A chance for freedom, a chance to escape her cell and to live life as she pleased. No more stale food, no more being treated with scorn, and so much more. Would she risk humiliation for such a chance? The answer was obvious. -- She'd been awoke near the crack of dawn, and dragged out by a pair of guards. Her morning meal consisted little more than stale bread, and her shower was a couple buckets of freezing water thrown over her form. Once she was 'prepared', Len was taken towards her destination. The place was located near the northern end of the city, where the modest buildings gave way to a den of depravity. Dirt and grime grew in abundance, and even a whiff of the air was enough to make Len feel almost sick. The arena itself was hardly any better, and as they arrived the girl was shuffled over into a 'preparation' room. A comb was dragged through long, raven hair...doing away with several knots that had built up. The dirt that the frigid water had failed to get rid of was quickly cleaned away, and finally the girl found her outer clothing stripped away. Finally, with all said and done, the girl was brought forth into the arena proper. It was simple in design, circular in shape and fairly spacious. The floor itself was made of fine sand, the grains moving about beneath her bare toes as she was pushed out. Quickly straightening out, the girl's cheeks would grow flush as she felt the countless people above staring down at her. Whistles overcame the dull din, and quickly she wrapped her arms around herself. Clad only in her underwear, the early morning sun danced across her milky skin. Cheeks still rosy, her eyes moving from the leering crowds towards the opposite end of the arena and onto her opponent. And as her eyes fell upon who she'd be up against, her heart nearly took a leap. A...a woman!?