Thread: Fight Night -- Madison vs Casey

Madison's eyes fluttered as she took in the scene and Casey's departure, but her mind was too far gone. Her hand drifted slowly down, sliding across her oiled body, her fingertips teasing the trimmed pubic hair and massaging their way to her release. She could hear cheers, and even through her tightly shut eyes she could sense camera flashes. She heard Casey's footsteps returning and opened her eyes once again, her eyebrows furrowed in confused carnal pleasure, hoping she was coming to put an end to her torture, but instead Casey took her wrist and wrenched it behind her, making her sit up and crossing her other wrist behind the first. She howled in equal parts frustration and pain, and then she felt a strange velvety sensation envelope her hands and Casey was busily working at . . . something, panting between quiet chuckles as she struggled to manipulate Madison's limbs. And then she let go. Madison quickly darted forward, scrambling on all fours away from her torturer. It was only then that she caught a glimpse of Casey's handiwork a set of leather bondage mittens encasing each of her hands and locked around the wrist, turning her hands into fingerless, useless globs. Now that the dog has her cone on, she won't be using those fingers of hers for any undeserved orgasms, Casey said to the crowd, who roared with laughter. I'm not unreasonable, though. How cruel would I have to be to leave her without a key. Madison felt a cold chain draped over her neck and the heavy weight of the antique-looking key that now hung between her breasts. She pawed at it desperately, holding the silvery metal between her mitts and turning it this way and that before she realized the cruelty of Casey's gift. Still on her knees, she turned her gaze up to her opponent, glaring with hatred. She tried to stand, but Casey rested her hand on her head and effortlessly pushed her back down. Oh . . . oh no, no, no, she mocked. He'll want you right where you are. Madison's wordless question was soon answered a suit-wearing man, his face hidden behind a leather hood, entered the ring at one corner. She tried turning to look back up at Casey to plead her case. Casey's unforgiving hand would have none of it and her opponent held her gaze facing forward, to the man's approach. Madison, let me introduce you to the owner of this establishment and the organizer of these fights, Casey whispered, clearly meaning her words for Madison alone. He paused, casting a shadow over her, a black cut-out against the stadium lights, his black boots having no trouble negotiating the oiled mat. Madison's breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to say something. Instead of speaking, however, she brushed Casey's hand away from Madison's head, his own heavy hand cupping it now, his fingers woven through her hair. He lifted a little, making Madison have to stretch as she tottered forward toward him. He paused. Casey came to stand beside him. She draped one arm around his waist and two perfect, tiny fingers reached to grip his zipper and pull it slowly down. Her hand slipped inside his pinstriped pants and slowly pulled his already-hard cock free. It cast its own shadow across Madison's face as she looked up in shock. Casey released the member and locked her hands behind her back, surprisingly quiet and subdued, bowing slightly and stepping away backward until she vanished from view. Then the only think in Madison's world were herself and this stranger. He made no move forward. She would move for him. He pulled her closer, and she had to shift her weight, walking on her knees to keep from falling over. She felt warmth against one cheek and realized his cock was now resting against it, impossibly rigid to the point that the skin of her cheek could feel the crease of a vein. He pulled her head sharply back and, first tapping and then knocking harder, repeatedly slapped the eager organ against her cheek. She flinched, she whimpered, and, in a remarkable lapse of judgement, her jaw dropped in offended shock. This had, apparently, been his plan. She felt his throbbing head slid past her open lips and down the center of her tongue. Her eyes shot open and she began struggling, slapping her mitted hands against his upper thighs. She grunted and shifted her head as much as she could from left to right in an attempt to find a way to free his cock from her mouth, but it only served to massage the invading thing and she could hear his breath quicken. He rocked his hips, ever so slightly -- the audience could probably see nothing, but she could certainly feel the extra invading inch and she grunted louder. He let out a low grunt of his own and stiffened. Somehow, in the wetness of her struggling mouth, she could feel him get even harder, somehow a little bigger, and she whimpered in fear. He tilted her head forcefully and slid her back, practically dragging her, then dragging himself in deeper. She tried to at least pocket what should could in her cheek, but to no avail. Her shoulders pinched back in anticipation as he pumped once more, twice more, his grip strengthening. She could feel her saliva dripping down her chin, but it was the last thing she could concentrate on before he shifted from dragging her head to well and truly fucking it. She didn't recognize the gagging, slobbering, defeated sounds coming from her as being her own at first. Desperate, she tried moving her tongue around and bobbing her head in time with the thrusts -- she hated herself for it, but anything to make it all end sooner. She was losing it again, her vision darkening from the exertion, but he was far from done. And then there was a heavy weight against the base of her neck, between her shoulders. She moaned as she realized that Casey had her foot pressed there, pushing and pushing to add to the movements of her destruction. She moaned in dismay, sending a vibration down the organizer's shaft and making him freeze in place for a moment . . . deep, too deep inside her. And then she felt his fingers pinch her nostrils shut. She squirmed and slapped her mitts against the ground. Her consciousness began to fade. It was woken again only by the sudden, warm flood as the organizer's cock began to pump. She could feel the pulse against her tongue just before her mouth immediately filled. He released her and she pulled back, coughing loudly, his cum spilling over her chin and down her neck as she tilted her head back for more air. Two more convulsions sent two more ropes of his cum arching across her face, making her close her eyes to shield them as she felt his warmth wash over nearly all of her reddened face, across her oil-imprisoned tits. She lowered her face toward the mat, a mouthful dribbling out. She couldn't see, but she could hear Casey approach. Then she could feel her opponent grab her wrists once again. She couldn't feel what was happening there -- maybe she was finally freeing her now that all was done -- but then she felt the younger woman pulling her up by her wrists locked behind her and marching her out of the ring. Even without her sight, she knew they weren't going back to the locker room. No, they were going to the exit. Then there was the cool night air against her skin. Casey's voice was a melody behind her. Thanks for the good time, Madi. I'd offer a rematch, but something tells me you won't be showing your . . . face around here again any time soon. Then Casey actually released her and Madison reached to wipe the cum from her face and . . . and she could only feel her wrists pulling against one another, locked, truly locked, behind her back. She did what she could to brush her face against her shoulder, but she still couldn't see. She marched slowly forward. The parking lot? It had to be. And she had to find a way outside. And then she heard the murmurs. She still had an audience. Even without her sight, she now knew there was a red velvet rope to her left. Casey had sent her out the front and she stood in full view of the fans waiting for the chance to plead their case to the bouncer. Not knowing where she could go and not knowing what to do when she got there, Madison did her best to run and escape the sounds of flashing phones and murmured amusement.