And to my shame, my pussy began moistening under the g-string. Oh god, could they see? Was that postage stamp of fabric getting dark with my juices? I didn’t want to bend my head to look, but I could feel myself getting wet inside, the unmistakable aroma of hungry cunt filling the air.
And finally, the gauntlet was over. We walked for what felt like a mile, but was probably only a hundred feet.
“This is only a beginner’s crowd,” soothed Carlinda as she pressed another button. “This is nothing like the championship round.”
My cheeks flushed. What? Championship round? What was Battle Bang exactly? It clearly wasn’t some fly-by-night production in the basement of Petey’s gym. Instead, this was a world of wealth, power, and domination that I’d never imagined even in my dreams.
So taking one last deep breath, I stepped through the doorway and into a brightly lit ring. My eyes blinked, squinting against the glare. There were nets draped around the square space, plus a giant blue mat clearly meant for wrestling. Somehow, all the men who’d been into the hallway had migrated to surround the ring, sitting in plush recliners while continuing to smoke and drink.
But I didn’t care about them anymore because I had eyes only for one man.
Shaft.
He stood on the other side of the floor, arms folded across his chest, feet planted apart. And oh god, but he was delectable. The man’s muscles bulged, his skin gleaming under the lights. Those pecs were hard slabs of meat, his abs tight and taut. My alpha wore something that was a cross between a towel and shorts, pure white fabric swathed around his hips loosely with bulging thighs underneath.
And immediately, every fear flew out of my head. Because this was the moment I was born for. To belong to him. To be his. To submit to the hard male … while mewling with pleasure.
CHAPTER NINE
Shaft
Oh shit, she was gorgeous. Lily appeared in the doorway, and a hush fell over the crowd, she was that beautiful.
The tips of her breasts, a faint pinkish-rose, hard and tasty.
The way her boobs swayed as she walked, graceful and lush.
Her hips, wide as a house and yet delectable, topped with a giant rump in back.
And finally, that sweetness, hidden by the tiniest scrap of cloth. By the end of this match I was going to rip that from her and bury myself in tight.
It was gonna be fucking awesome, and I couldn’t wait.
Judging from the crowd, they couldn’t wait either. All around us, billionaire males sat around on plush recliners, lounging and drinking, chatting with one another as Lily was brought into the ring. But I saw how their eyes followed that female form, more than a couple dicks already hard from the visual.
Because she’s gorgeous, and this is what lights our fire. We don’t pummel each other, bloody and bruised like some imaginary Fight Club. That’s fucking dumb. Instead, Battle Bang is a thousand times better. We wrestle juicy, curvy women, and then push our dongs into them in the end, the girls creaming hard as they get it good.
And we make it worthwhile for the females as well. The chickadees get paid well for their service, and quite a few ask to come back for second or even third rounds. The money’s enough to support their lifestyles for a year, so why not? One night of taking dong in front of a group of men, and then you’re set for another three hundred and sixty-five days.
Hell, I’d do it if I were a woman, and lucky enough to get picked for Battle Bang. In fact, I’d volunteer myself every night if possible because the money’s that good.
But Lily doesn’t know that there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow because my girl is innocent and sweet, and money was never going to be her motivation. Instead, the bond we’ve built over these past couple weeks is what’s pulling her to this event. Lily thinks that we’re in love, and that’s what’s motivating her to come.
Love? What’s love? I have no idea what that is.
But frankly, I’m not sure what to think about our interactions anymore either. Because these last few weeks have been amazing. Seeing her twice a day at the gym. Coaching her as we work-out. Talking with her as we push her limits, both in bed and out of it. Tasting those sweet curves while listening to her moan.
So if love means being head over heels obsessed with a female to the point where you can’t imagine yourself with anyone else, then I’d say I’m in love. I don’t know though. I’ve been a bachelor for four decades now, and old habits die hard.
Incredibly though, feelings flood my chest as she teeters into the space. It’s a blue padded mat with a white circle painted in the middle, surrounded by high nets in case body parts go flying.