Kosu
Potential Patron
- Joined
- Sep 6, 2019
Here's the first chapter of a story I started around a year ago and is still ongoing. I originally posted it on a mixed fighting forum which predominantly favours female dominated action, but despite this being a completely maledom story, a few people there did enjoy it. It's probably more at home here theough, albeit it's perhaps not as Ryona heavy as some of the stories here. Certainly, none of the fights in my story involve death/killing/gruesome injury, cos that's just not for me. That said, the action is hard hitting and does involve some sexual activity too.
Anyway, enough intro. Judge for yourselves...
The year was 3019. And Men were slaves. For Jerek, it had always been this way. He was too young to remember the 21st century, to remember a time before the thirst. The world now was a barren place and what scarce resources it had were viciously fought for. And as the necessity for battle grew, so the lust for violence grew. Fights in the pit were seen as an entertainment, a way for the female dominators of the world to assert their authority over the weaker sex. Women already held power in society. The pit was a means to remind men why the women were in charge. Jerek had heard stories of a time when men were the stronger, dominant sex. To him, these stories seemed like a wild fantasy, an impossible dream created from the hopes and dreams of desperate men. Or so Jerek thought. Until he discovered Brooslee.
Technology in Jerek's world was ancient, relics of a bygone age. The little that remained which still functioned belonged only to the highest ranking women. Women such as Jerek's Mistress. One day, whilst tidying one of the many rooms in his Mistress's opulent home, Jerek had discovered a old video playing device. With it were a collection of cassettes, which after some trial and error, Jerek would eventually learn how to play them. And whilst time had aged them, Jerek could still see and hear enough to understand. They were the stories of a man named Brooslee, a man for whom his fists and feet were dangerous weapons.
From that day on, whenever he was alone and his Mistress was asleep or away, Jerek would watch Brooslee for hours. Sometime, Jerek would find himself trying to copy the moves he could see. He had no use for them of course, but just going through those intricate motions gave Jerek a feeling he could not describe. It just felt... not weak.
And then came the day. A day Jerek had hoped would never come. He had been chosen for the pit. And he knew his life was over. Few men left the pit alive. A handful had survived, but none without serious injury. And they had been big men, monsters who were almost as strong as the women they faced. Jerek was not like those men.
In the pit, Jerek stood against one side of the circular arena. The concrete walls of the pit were higher than even the tallest of women. Fighters were dropped into the pit, leaving them trapped until one fighter claimed victory. By any means necessary. Surrounding the top of the pit sat the Elite, the ruling women of the day. These women would return to their own clans and tell their menfolk in great detail of another male defeat, another male humiliation. And sometimes, they would tell of one less male in the world.
In the thirty-two winters that he had been alive, Jerek had lived a life of hardship and struggle. This showed in his physique that could be seen by all present. For fights in the pit were always nude. His pasty white body was slim, his fair hair thinning. There was some lean muscle, gained from his many daily duties, but he remained a slight and unthreatening man. Across the pit, his opponent was an Amazonic figure named Kalina. Several inches taller than Jerek, her tanned and athletic physique was the polar opposite to Jerek in so many ways. Her breasts alone may have been half of Jerek's weight and she wielded them in front of her much like weapons.
Above the pit, Jerek's Mistress called for combat to begin. The Elite roared in appreciation and Jerek made himself ready for his fate. He hoped it would be quick. Kalina approached him, taunting Jerek and smiling in anticipation of what she would do with him. Jerek closed his eyes. And remembered Brooslee. Without thinking, Jerek's hand lashed out. As surprised as he was by his actions, Kalina's shock was considerably more so. Particularly as she was now struggling to breathe after Jerek's chop to her throat. At first Jerek stood frozen to the spot, stunned by what had just occurred. However, realising that Kalina might soon recover quickly spurred Jerek back into action.
This time he used both hands, chopping them hard on either side of Kalina's neck, just above her should blades. Her legs immediately buckled slightly. Pressing his advantage, Jerek drove a knee into Kalina's abdomen. A gasped wheeze of breath expelled from her lungs as she doubled over Jerek's thigh. Jerek pushed her away and took a step back, barely able to process what had just happened. It was 30 seconds into the fight and not only was he still alive, but he would probably remain so for at least another few moments. He was confident of this, because his expected executioner was currently bent over, clutching her stomach and breathing heavily. There was no escape, of course. Jerek knew that. So perhaps he had simply delayed the inevitable. Perhaps he had made things worse, maybe Kalina would now prolong his punishment, kill him slowly.
If she could. The thought surprised Jerek amost as much as his recent actions had done. Until a few seconds ago, the possibility of any outcome other than his own demise had not crossed Jerek's mind. But a lot had changed in that short time. Now Jerek had a choice. And he chose to fight.
By now Kalina had recovered and quickly lunged for Jerek. He sidestepped out of her path at the last moment and slammed his bony elbow into the small of her back. She made a noise that Jerek had never heard before. It was that of a woman in pain. Stranger still, Jerek realised that the only reason he could hear Kalina was that the usual baying for blood that always accompanied fights in the pit had ceased. From above came only silence, as the Elite and their Queen bore witness to something they had never seen before.
Before Kalina could turn around, Jerek had grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her hands upwards. The move was not only causing Kalina considerable discomfort, as was clear by her pained cries, but it also allowed Jerek to control Kalina's movements. Forcing her to move forwards, increasing speed as he did so, it was only a matter of seconds before they reached the rock solid wall surrounding the edge of the pit. More accurately, it was Kalina that reached the wall first. And with not inconsiderable force. With her arms still trapped behind her back, Kalina was unable to protect herself and slammed into the wall hard, her face and breasts taking the bulk of the impact. The collision had left her dazed and Jerek was able to turn Kalina around to face him, her back now against the wall.
The time had come for Jerek to see exactly what he was capable of. The knowledge was all there, in his head. But it was not in the way he had learned to work the mines or to harvest the fields. These skills were not learned. They were simply there. Memories of faded images working alongside sheer instinct and a fight or flight response that had settled firmly on the former. Jerek took a breath and cleared his thoughts. Just let it happen.
Jerek's hand closed into a fist and he drove it into Kalina's gut. She gave a guttaral "OOOUPPHH!!!" , her eyes opening widely as she was deprived of breath. Jerek now opened his hand and slammed his palm upwards, catching Katrine full on the chin and snapping her head back hard. Two punches now, delivered simultaneously and hitting their targets with pinpoint accuracy. Jerek's fists ploughed into the centre of Kalina's breasts, her fleshy mounds billowing outwards as she screamed in pain.
Kalina's screeching wail sparked another memory in Jerek. Another aspect of Brooslee that he had yet to emulate. And now Jerek too began to make a sound, a noise that was almost catlike in nature. The noise seemed to harmonise in sync with his movements, slow and steady, almost like a warning to stay away. Unfortunately for Kalina, that was not an option. Jerek unleashed two lightning fast punches, two powerful jabs in rapid succession to Kalina's face. The sound of impact as fist met bone cracked like a whip and was accompanied by a sound from Jerek too. A sharp, almost impossibly high pitched "KIAAI!!!" Kalina raised her hands to her face and it was impossible to tell if this was to nurse the pain or a futile attempt at protection. Perhaps it was both. Neither were successful.
A vicious backfist knocked the spittle from Kalina's mouth, spraying the wall behind her. Next came a flurry of body punches, one after another with no respite, each connecting with a different body part. Belly, kidneys, breasts, Jerek pummelled Kalina's muscular but weakening physique like a butcher pounding meat. Different points drew a variety of yelps, cries and groans from Kalina. For anyone, pain was an unwelcome companion. For a woman who had never experienced it, it was overwhelming.
As his fists continued to tenderise Kalina's body, Jerek's body gave a twitch. It did not effect the efficiency of his punching but something was happening. It was like an itch that needed scratching, as though something was missing. Something more that he could... That he should be doing. Suddenly, Jerek became aware of the ground beneath his feet. The surface of the pit was hard, covered in just a thin layer of sand. Jerek could feel it. Every grain between his toes, beneath his heel. And he knew.
The punching stopped. Despite the pain she was in, Kalina's face seemed momentarily relieved, savouring the respite from Jerek's relentless attack. But then she heard it. Jerek's gentle, quiet song. The wordless, haunting sound that she now knew meant suffering. Kalina's expression turned to that of fear. Her eyes focused on Jerek's fists, waiting for the flash of movement. Not in hope of blocking or avoiding the attack. She was way past the point where she believed that was possible. But at least to know what was coming, to have even a fraction of a second to brace herself. Unfortunately for Karina, she was looking in the wrong place.
As Jerek's cry grew in pitch and volume, he raised his right foot from the floor. Only a few inches, his toes pointing downwards. Still he let the noise build, aware that as it did so, so grew Kalina's fear. And then he struck. Jerek's foot sliced the air and his sole smacked across Kalina's face as he screamed a blood curdling "EEEEYAAAAAA!!!!" Kalina matched Jerek's scream with one of her own. But whilst Jerek's was a roar of dominance, Kalina's was that of anguish. Her pain was not just physical but complete. To be defeated by a mere man would have been demeaning enough. But to be the first. And in front of her peers. When Jerek's foot struck her face, the weight of what was happening became clear to Kalina. She was not simply being beaten. She was being humbled. Not by a mighty warrior, one who could match her strength and power. But by a puny slave, using only his hands and feet.
For Jerek, the kick had been equally enlightening. At the start of this contest, his motivation had been nothing but survival. That had then progressed into a period of discovery. And with his kick, Jerek had reached a new understanding. For a man who had spent his entire life underfoot, to feel the very face of his oppressor crushed beneath his sole had been a cathartic experience. More than that, it had felt powerful. And it had felt... Jerek could not find a word to describe something he had never experienced before. But his feelings manifested themselves in a different way. In a physical way. Between his legs, the muscle that until now had only seemingly served one purpose was now erect, hard as rock and raised like the sword of a warrior going into battle. Jerek liked this feeling. And he knew how to intensify it.
Jerek returned his attention to Kalina. For all their self-introspection, it had only been a few moments since Jerek's first kick had stung Kalina's face. In that brief moment in time, Jerek's kick existed as both the first and only kick ever administered by a man to a woman in the pit. But now that would change. Now it would be the first of many. Jerek kicked his right leg straight upwards, his heel crunching into Kalina's upper lip and nose. Kalina gave a nasal grunt as her head was rocked backwards. Bringing his leg down, Jerek began to bounce lightly on his feet, moving left and right, back and forth, in front of a rattled Kalina. Jerek's movements were different now. Not simply confident but arrogant. And he was enjoying the sheer despair of his outclassed opponent. Over the next ten minutes, Jerek did not throw a single punch. Instead, he turned Kalina into his personal kick-pad. And in her new role, Kalina faced the full repertoire of Jerek's new found abilities.
Sometimes, he would feign one kick and as Kalina tried to turn away, Jerek would switch legs and ensure his foot made full contact with her increasingly bruised face. At other moments, he would wait a few seconds before delivering a kick, allowing Kalina just enough time to be aware of what was coming. And then there was the onslaught. When there were no tricks. No taunting. No respite. Just kick after kick after kick after kick. A roundhouse kick slapped against Kalina's face, distorting her features as Jerek's foot made crunching contact. Another, this time knocking her face in the opposite direction. And again, Jerek's foot kicking across her face from left to right. Right to left. Left to right. Jerek's sandy bare sole was mauling Kalina's face with an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Certainly Kalina herself seemed to be in a trance, as each kick found it's mark. By now, her mouth hung open and she had begun to drool slightly with every groan of pain. Her saliva moistened the bottom of Jerek's foot, which in turn then found it's way back onto her face as he continued to contort her once striking visage. Her face now a bruised mess of spittle, sand, blood and bruises, Kalina's face now resembled that of many of Jerek's friends after years of being worked and tortured beyond their limits.
The memory of fallen comrades provoked another attack from Jerek, now using his full arsenal. Fists and feet battered every part of Kalina's body to the point that it was soon only Jerek's blows which were keeping her upright. A knife kick to the throat. Double jumping knees to the breasts. An elbow strike to the chin. A front kick to the gut. Kalina was still conscious, but barely. Just enough to feel the searing pain of every strike, every hit, every kick. Which was just as Jerek wanted. He could have ended the fight at any time. But between a lust for vengeance, as well his own more animalistic lust, Jerek wanted to make this experience last.
And then, from atop the pit, their came a voice. Just one word, spoken by the leader of Jerek's own ruling clan. "Stop". Jerek paused, as though considering the request. He turned away from Kalina's rag-dolled form and looked upwards. Along the upper wall of other side of the pit, six of the Elite's guards had crossbows trained directly on Jerek. Behind them, stood Jerek's mistress. Her face was one of utter shock, as though completely unable to comprehend what she had witnessed.
At first, Jerek wondered why it had taken so long for the Elite to act. But he quickly realised, this had been a new experience for everyone. And for a society so utterly convinced of their own social and physical superiority, the very act of acknowledging a male could defeat a woman was a near impossible one. Jerek imagined that throughout his systematic demolition of Kalina, the Elite would still have been convinced order would eventually be restored, that Kalina would fight back.
"This will stop" continued the Mistress, a wavering tone in her voice that Jerek had never heard before. "You will step away from Kalina." Jerek stood his ground. He knew it was only his proximity to the punch-drunk Amazon that was keeping the Elite's bolts in their bows. He needed a way out. Where to, he did not know. But for now, simply escaping the pit would be enough. He turned his back on the Elite and returned his attention towards Kalina. When he did not feel a barrage of cold steel piercing his back, Jerek was confident he would be safe as long as Kalina was close by. And she was essential to his plan.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, Jerek drove his knee between Kalina's legs. Her body spasmed with the impact and she unleashed her loudest, most agonised scream yet. Jerek repeated the move, his knee slamming into Kalina's soft pussy with a force that lifted her off her feet. She slumped across his shoulders, her head lolling forwards as she sobbed. A final knee caused Kalina to physically wretch and she dropped to her knees in front of Jerek.
As her face brushed against his throbbing cock, whatever had been trying to get out now found it's freedom. Jerek convulsed as a wave of intense pleasure racked his body. Grabbing Kalina's hair to steady himself, he held her head in place as his cock exploded a load all across her broken face.
Then silence. As before, the Elite was stunned into inaction. Jerek was not so static and leapt onto Kalina's shoulders. Reaching upwards, he jumped for the top of the wall and reached it. Swiftly he pulled himself up and over. As he had hoped, this side of the wall was deserted as there would have been no clear line of sight from here.
A quick glance back into the pit showed Kalina now slumped face first in the sand, breathing heavily but otherwise unmoving. And then Jerek heard movement across the pit and saw the Elite's guards now back in the moment and preparing to fire. Jerek ran, ducking as two crossbow bolts whizzed overhead and embedded themselves in a far wall. To his left, Jerek saw a corridor and and at the end a door. There were no guards here, no women at all. Diving into the corridor, Jerek sprinted towards the door, willing it to be unlocked.
And so it was. Jerek had escaped the pit. And Jerek had defeated Kalina. But he was still alone. In a building ruled by women in a city ruled by women in a world ruled by women. Who would now be out for more than just his blood. If Jerek escaped, if he could spread the word of what had happened here today, maybe the world could change.
One thing at a time, thought Jerek. This was only the beginning. One down....
Anyway, enough intro. Judge for yourselves...
The Journeys of Jerek - Chapter One: Don't Think. Feel
The year was 3019. And Men were slaves. For Jerek, it had always been this way. He was too young to remember the 21st century, to remember a time before the thirst. The world now was a barren place and what scarce resources it had were viciously fought for. And as the necessity for battle grew, so the lust for violence grew. Fights in the pit were seen as an entertainment, a way for the female dominators of the world to assert their authority over the weaker sex. Women already held power in society. The pit was a means to remind men why the women were in charge. Jerek had heard stories of a time when men were the stronger, dominant sex. To him, these stories seemed like a wild fantasy, an impossible dream created from the hopes and dreams of desperate men. Or so Jerek thought. Until he discovered Brooslee.
Technology in Jerek's world was ancient, relics of a bygone age. The little that remained which still functioned belonged only to the highest ranking women. Women such as Jerek's Mistress. One day, whilst tidying one of the many rooms in his Mistress's opulent home, Jerek had discovered a old video playing device. With it were a collection of cassettes, which after some trial and error, Jerek would eventually learn how to play them. And whilst time had aged them, Jerek could still see and hear enough to understand. They were the stories of a man named Brooslee, a man for whom his fists and feet were dangerous weapons.
From that day on, whenever he was alone and his Mistress was asleep or away, Jerek would watch Brooslee for hours. Sometime, Jerek would find himself trying to copy the moves he could see. He had no use for them of course, but just going through those intricate motions gave Jerek a feeling he could not describe. It just felt... not weak.
And then came the day. A day Jerek had hoped would never come. He had been chosen for the pit. And he knew his life was over. Few men left the pit alive. A handful had survived, but none without serious injury. And they had been big men, monsters who were almost as strong as the women they faced. Jerek was not like those men.
In the pit, Jerek stood against one side of the circular arena. The concrete walls of the pit were higher than even the tallest of women. Fighters were dropped into the pit, leaving them trapped until one fighter claimed victory. By any means necessary. Surrounding the top of the pit sat the Elite, the ruling women of the day. These women would return to their own clans and tell their menfolk in great detail of another male defeat, another male humiliation. And sometimes, they would tell of one less male in the world.
In the thirty-two winters that he had been alive, Jerek had lived a life of hardship and struggle. This showed in his physique that could be seen by all present. For fights in the pit were always nude. His pasty white body was slim, his fair hair thinning. There was some lean muscle, gained from his many daily duties, but he remained a slight and unthreatening man. Across the pit, his opponent was an Amazonic figure named Kalina. Several inches taller than Jerek, her tanned and athletic physique was the polar opposite to Jerek in so many ways. Her breasts alone may have been half of Jerek's weight and she wielded them in front of her much like weapons.
Above the pit, Jerek's Mistress called for combat to begin. The Elite roared in appreciation and Jerek made himself ready for his fate. He hoped it would be quick. Kalina approached him, taunting Jerek and smiling in anticipation of what she would do with him. Jerek closed his eyes. And remembered Brooslee. Without thinking, Jerek's hand lashed out. As surprised as he was by his actions, Kalina's shock was considerably more so. Particularly as she was now struggling to breathe after Jerek's chop to her throat. At first Jerek stood frozen to the spot, stunned by what had just occurred. However, realising that Kalina might soon recover quickly spurred Jerek back into action.
This time he used both hands, chopping them hard on either side of Kalina's neck, just above her should blades. Her legs immediately buckled slightly. Pressing his advantage, Jerek drove a knee into Kalina's abdomen. A gasped wheeze of breath expelled from her lungs as she doubled over Jerek's thigh. Jerek pushed her away and took a step back, barely able to process what had just happened. It was 30 seconds into the fight and not only was he still alive, but he would probably remain so for at least another few moments. He was confident of this, because his expected executioner was currently bent over, clutching her stomach and breathing heavily. There was no escape, of course. Jerek knew that. So perhaps he had simply delayed the inevitable. Perhaps he had made things worse, maybe Kalina would now prolong his punishment, kill him slowly.
If she could. The thought surprised Jerek amost as much as his recent actions had done. Until a few seconds ago, the possibility of any outcome other than his own demise had not crossed Jerek's mind. But a lot had changed in that short time. Now Jerek had a choice. And he chose to fight.
By now Kalina had recovered and quickly lunged for Jerek. He sidestepped out of her path at the last moment and slammed his bony elbow into the small of her back. She made a noise that Jerek had never heard before. It was that of a woman in pain. Stranger still, Jerek realised that the only reason he could hear Kalina was that the usual baying for blood that always accompanied fights in the pit had ceased. From above came only silence, as the Elite and their Queen bore witness to something they had never seen before.
Before Kalina could turn around, Jerek had grabbed her wrists and twisted her arms behind her back, forcing her hands upwards. The move was not only causing Kalina considerable discomfort, as was clear by her pained cries, but it also allowed Jerek to control Kalina's movements. Forcing her to move forwards, increasing speed as he did so, it was only a matter of seconds before they reached the rock solid wall surrounding the edge of the pit. More accurately, it was Kalina that reached the wall first. And with not inconsiderable force. With her arms still trapped behind her back, Kalina was unable to protect herself and slammed into the wall hard, her face and breasts taking the bulk of the impact. The collision had left her dazed and Jerek was able to turn Kalina around to face him, her back now against the wall.
The time had come for Jerek to see exactly what he was capable of. The knowledge was all there, in his head. But it was not in the way he had learned to work the mines or to harvest the fields. These skills were not learned. They were simply there. Memories of faded images working alongside sheer instinct and a fight or flight response that had settled firmly on the former. Jerek took a breath and cleared his thoughts. Just let it happen.
Jerek's hand closed into a fist and he drove it into Kalina's gut. She gave a guttaral "OOOUPPHH!!!" , her eyes opening widely as she was deprived of breath. Jerek now opened his hand and slammed his palm upwards, catching Katrine full on the chin and snapping her head back hard. Two punches now, delivered simultaneously and hitting their targets with pinpoint accuracy. Jerek's fists ploughed into the centre of Kalina's breasts, her fleshy mounds billowing outwards as she screamed in pain.
Kalina's screeching wail sparked another memory in Jerek. Another aspect of Brooslee that he had yet to emulate. And now Jerek too began to make a sound, a noise that was almost catlike in nature. The noise seemed to harmonise in sync with his movements, slow and steady, almost like a warning to stay away. Unfortunately for Kalina, that was not an option. Jerek unleashed two lightning fast punches, two powerful jabs in rapid succession to Kalina's face. The sound of impact as fist met bone cracked like a whip and was accompanied by a sound from Jerek too. A sharp, almost impossibly high pitched "KIAAI!!!" Kalina raised her hands to her face and it was impossible to tell if this was to nurse the pain or a futile attempt at protection. Perhaps it was both. Neither were successful.
A vicious backfist knocked the spittle from Kalina's mouth, spraying the wall behind her. Next came a flurry of body punches, one after another with no respite, each connecting with a different body part. Belly, kidneys, breasts, Jerek pummelled Kalina's muscular but weakening physique like a butcher pounding meat. Different points drew a variety of yelps, cries and groans from Kalina. For anyone, pain was an unwelcome companion. For a woman who had never experienced it, it was overwhelming.
As his fists continued to tenderise Kalina's body, Jerek's body gave a twitch. It did not effect the efficiency of his punching but something was happening. It was like an itch that needed scratching, as though something was missing. Something more that he could... That he should be doing. Suddenly, Jerek became aware of the ground beneath his feet. The surface of the pit was hard, covered in just a thin layer of sand. Jerek could feel it. Every grain between his toes, beneath his heel. And he knew.
The punching stopped. Despite the pain she was in, Kalina's face seemed momentarily relieved, savouring the respite from Jerek's relentless attack. But then she heard it. Jerek's gentle, quiet song. The wordless, haunting sound that she now knew meant suffering. Kalina's expression turned to that of fear. Her eyes focused on Jerek's fists, waiting for the flash of movement. Not in hope of blocking or avoiding the attack. She was way past the point where she believed that was possible. But at least to know what was coming, to have even a fraction of a second to brace herself. Unfortunately for Karina, she was looking in the wrong place.
As Jerek's cry grew in pitch and volume, he raised his right foot from the floor. Only a few inches, his toes pointing downwards. Still he let the noise build, aware that as it did so, so grew Kalina's fear. And then he struck. Jerek's foot sliced the air and his sole smacked across Kalina's face as he screamed a blood curdling "EEEEYAAAAAA!!!!" Kalina matched Jerek's scream with one of her own. But whilst Jerek's was a roar of dominance, Kalina's was that of anguish. Her pain was not just physical but complete. To be defeated by a mere man would have been demeaning enough. But to be the first. And in front of her peers. When Jerek's foot struck her face, the weight of what was happening became clear to Kalina. She was not simply being beaten. She was being humbled. Not by a mighty warrior, one who could match her strength and power. But by a puny slave, using only his hands and feet.
For Jerek, the kick had been equally enlightening. At the start of this contest, his motivation had been nothing but survival. That had then progressed into a period of discovery. And with his kick, Jerek had reached a new understanding. For a man who had spent his entire life underfoot, to feel the very face of his oppressor crushed beneath his sole had been a cathartic experience. More than that, it had felt powerful. And it had felt... Jerek could not find a word to describe something he had never experienced before. But his feelings manifested themselves in a different way. In a physical way. Between his legs, the muscle that until now had only seemingly served one purpose was now erect, hard as rock and raised like the sword of a warrior going into battle. Jerek liked this feeling. And he knew how to intensify it.
Jerek returned his attention to Kalina. For all their self-introspection, it had only been a few moments since Jerek's first kick had stung Kalina's face. In that brief moment in time, Jerek's kick existed as both the first and only kick ever administered by a man to a woman in the pit. But now that would change. Now it would be the first of many. Jerek kicked his right leg straight upwards, his heel crunching into Kalina's upper lip and nose. Kalina gave a nasal grunt as her head was rocked backwards. Bringing his leg down, Jerek began to bounce lightly on his feet, moving left and right, back and forth, in front of a rattled Kalina. Jerek's movements were different now. Not simply confident but arrogant. And he was enjoying the sheer despair of his outclassed opponent. Over the next ten minutes, Jerek did not throw a single punch. Instead, he turned Kalina into his personal kick-pad. And in her new role, Kalina faced the full repertoire of Jerek's new found abilities.
Sometimes, he would feign one kick and as Kalina tried to turn away, Jerek would switch legs and ensure his foot made full contact with her increasingly bruised face. At other moments, he would wait a few seconds before delivering a kick, allowing Kalina just enough time to be aware of what was coming. And then there was the onslaught. When there were no tricks. No taunting. No respite. Just kick after kick after kick after kick. A roundhouse kick slapped against Kalina's face, distorting her features as Jerek's foot made crunching contact. Another, this time knocking her face in the opposite direction. And again, Jerek's foot kicking across her face from left to right. Right to left. Left to right. Jerek's sandy bare sole was mauling Kalina's face with an almost hypnotic rhythm.
Certainly Kalina herself seemed to be in a trance, as each kick found it's mark. By now, her mouth hung open and she had begun to drool slightly with every groan of pain. Her saliva moistened the bottom of Jerek's foot, which in turn then found it's way back onto her face as he continued to contort her once striking visage. Her face now a bruised mess of spittle, sand, blood and bruises, Kalina's face now resembled that of many of Jerek's friends after years of being worked and tortured beyond their limits.
The memory of fallen comrades provoked another attack from Jerek, now using his full arsenal. Fists and feet battered every part of Kalina's body to the point that it was soon only Jerek's blows which were keeping her upright. A knife kick to the throat. Double jumping knees to the breasts. An elbow strike to the chin. A front kick to the gut. Kalina was still conscious, but barely. Just enough to feel the searing pain of every strike, every hit, every kick. Which was just as Jerek wanted. He could have ended the fight at any time. But between a lust for vengeance, as well his own more animalistic lust, Jerek wanted to make this experience last.
And then, from atop the pit, their came a voice. Just one word, spoken by the leader of Jerek's own ruling clan. "Stop". Jerek paused, as though considering the request. He turned away from Kalina's rag-dolled form and looked upwards. Along the upper wall of other side of the pit, six of the Elite's guards had crossbows trained directly on Jerek. Behind them, stood Jerek's mistress. Her face was one of utter shock, as though completely unable to comprehend what she had witnessed.
At first, Jerek wondered why it had taken so long for the Elite to act. But he quickly realised, this had been a new experience for everyone. And for a society so utterly convinced of their own social and physical superiority, the very act of acknowledging a male could defeat a woman was a near impossible one. Jerek imagined that throughout his systematic demolition of Kalina, the Elite would still have been convinced order would eventually be restored, that Kalina would fight back.
"This will stop" continued the Mistress, a wavering tone in her voice that Jerek had never heard before. "You will step away from Kalina." Jerek stood his ground. He knew it was only his proximity to the punch-drunk Amazon that was keeping the Elite's bolts in their bows. He needed a way out. Where to, he did not know. But for now, simply escaping the pit would be enough. He turned his back on the Elite and returned his attention towards Kalina. When he did not feel a barrage of cold steel piercing his back, Jerek was confident he would be safe as long as Kalina was close by. And she was essential to his plan.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, Jerek drove his knee between Kalina's legs. Her body spasmed with the impact and she unleashed her loudest, most agonised scream yet. Jerek repeated the move, his knee slamming into Kalina's soft pussy with a force that lifted her off her feet. She slumped across his shoulders, her head lolling forwards as she sobbed. A final knee caused Kalina to physically wretch and she dropped to her knees in front of Jerek.
As her face brushed against his throbbing cock, whatever had been trying to get out now found it's freedom. Jerek convulsed as a wave of intense pleasure racked his body. Grabbing Kalina's hair to steady himself, he held her head in place as his cock exploded a load all across her broken face.
Then silence. As before, the Elite was stunned into inaction. Jerek was not so static and leapt onto Kalina's shoulders. Reaching upwards, he jumped for the top of the wall and reached it. Swiftly he pulled himself up and over. As he had hoped, this side of the wall was deserted as there would have been no clear line of sight from here.
A quick glance back into the pit showed Kalina now slumped face first in the sand, breathing heavily but otherwise unmoving. And then Jerek heard movement across the pit and saw the Elite's guards now back in the moment and preparing to fire. Jerek ran, ducking as two crossbow bolts whizzed overhead and embedded themselves in a far wall. To his left, Jerek saw a corridor and and at the end a door. There were no guards here, no women at all. Diving into the corridor, Jerek sprinted towards the door, willing it to be unlocked.
And so it was. Jerek had escaped the pit. And Jerek had defeated Kalina. But he was still alone. In a building ruled by women in a city ruled by women in a world ruled by women. Who would now be out for more than just his blood. If Jerek escaped, if he could spread the word of what had happened here today, maybe the world could change.
One thing at a time, thought Jerek. This was only the beginning. One down....
