Blood, Sweat And Tears (Ragnarok and AlluringEnigma)

It was a scorching summer night, and much of the small city had long since gone to sleep; most active were a handful of bars, a pair of strip clubs... and a warehouse, down by the waterfront, surrounded on all sides by deserted, dark structures. This particular warehouse, long since abandoned by any legitimate enterprise, had long since been occupied by a decidedly unofficial venture... albeit one that was perhaps the worse-kept secret in the state. Nobody was sure where these kinds of fights had begun, or necessarily even whose idea it had been; urban legend said it was a pair of rivals who, determined to demonstrate how each was a superior fighter to the other, invited onlookers to witness a battle they intended to have to settle the matter, each wanting to publicly shame the other. So confident had each been in their victory, the terms of defeat they'd agreed on had been lewd, over-the-top... and ultimately, the winner had taken full and total use of the loser. On the other hand, another popular theory was that it was just based off a fairly popular wrestling/porn hybrid series on the internet called Ultimate Surrender.

Whatever the case, pockets of these fighting Leagues began to spring up, occupying what buildings they could find, as they kept themselves funded by allowing bets to be placed on each match, as well as charging admission prices. Wherever these Leagues appeared, women filtered towards them, some out of curiosity, some seeking a challenge, and others plainly seeking a chance to fuck, with the fighting itself seen more as a price of admission. The skill and experience of these combatants ranged from hardened fighters, to soft young women who were either far too confident, or very much hoping to be the 'loser' of whatever match they joined; often, fights ended up being rather one-sided, as whenever an experienced fighter encounter a submissive or amateur opponent, things ended quickly. The best matches, though, were whenever two fighters clashed... then the sparks truly flew.

The warehouse had no air conditioning, and few amenities to speak of; the sole use for electricity were bright flood lights that shone towards the center of the cavernous chamber. In that center was a fighting ring; largely build out of wood and canvas, with just enough padding to spare a fighter serious injury during a fall, it was shaped in an Octagon- clearly seeking to emulate a certain popular fighting organization- and walled off with chain link fencing attached to padded posts on every corner. A mishmash of scavenged bleachers and benches surrounded the fighting ring, and tonight they were even fuller than usual, with the crowd in a very fine mood indeed. The most recent battle had come to a very decisive end, and even as laughter and catcalls filled the room, the loser was being impaled vigorously on the thick strap-on of the winner, fucked in the center of the ring. Both were bruised, weary, and covered in sweat, but the victor gave every ounce of strength she had in pounding her opponent, drawing guttural cries from the thrashing, bucking loser as her head was viciously pulled back by her long, black hair, forcing her spine to arch and presenting her buxom chest to half of the audience. The cheers only swelled when that loser began to squeal and squirm all the harder, swept up in a thunderous release that left her arousal dripping all over the arena floor.

But this match was only the second-last one, and the main event was still to come... the League's reigning champion, with a winning streak that was both undefeated, and unprecedented. The crowds were fuller in large part because of that, eager to see how she fared tonight...


That champion, Aida, sat waiting in her small, private locker room, which had admittedly been converted from an old washroom in the warehouse's upstairs office space. An old rack of school lockers was squeezed against the far wall, which were themselves covered in browning ceramic tiles, and though the building had running water, trying to drink the yellowing liquid from the rusted tap would have been a poor choice indeed. Aids slumped forward in her seat as she stared across the small room, eyeing herself in the dirty mirror. She was certainly a lovely young woman, just about twenty-two now, but with seasoning in the ring that belied such a young age... her dirty blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and underneath her black sports-bra and shorts, her body was lithe and toned, her firm breasts partially restricted by her confining top, and her lean belly revealing trained abdominal muscles. She was a little over five foot eight, and if it wasn't for the look in her eyes, or the serious set of her jaw, she might have been mistaken for a young, ditsy teenager. She'd been sitting there for a little over twenty minutes now, not saying a word, but the moment she heard the crowd begin to cheer through the paper thin walls in a way that all but guaranteed someone was being fucked, she felt the Fear begin.

It always began that way, the clenching, numbing Fear that stuck to her throat and made her body shudder; it was a Fear that many would have tried to fight, but that she embraced like an old lover. It wasn't fear of pain, or injury. Pain was something she had long since learned to deal with, as she had begun training to fight at the tender age of thirteen. Rather, it was fear of loss; the loss of pride, and especially of control, should she be felled in this match. Because although she had remained undefeated in every League fight she'd undertaken over the past two and a half years, she never let herself forget exactly what she would be subjected to if she were to fall. She needed that Fear. It was the only thing that had kept her on top.

As always when she prepared, her mind went back to her first League fight in its earliest days, when she had arrived a brash, cocky fighter looking to establish her dominance over all comers; she had been so confident that her hot-headed anger and gumption was her true strength, and that she could muscle through any opposition in this cadre of combatants. When she'd entered the ring, she had bounced, posed, waved her fists and hyped up the cluster of onlookers with a savage grin. Except her first opponent, a striking Amazonian specimen of a woman named Margaret, had proven older and far more more experienced, and within minutes Aida had been in serious trouble. As the match had gone on, she had battered Aida with as many taunts and quips as she did punches or knees, bruising the young woman's pride just as surely as her body. With every moment the fighter had drawn greater and greater frustration from Aida, and it was then she'd felt the true bite of what her anger could wrought; she grew sloppy, undisciplined, and had left herself open to a kick that had very nearly broken her jaw.

And at that moment, Aida had felt in her very bones that she'd been conquered; her knees had grown weak and rubbery and she had slumped onto her hands, mouth slack with pain and eyes unfocused, only faintly aware of the mocking fighter who closed in to land a finishing blow. Feeling her defeat so close at hand- and knowing the humiliation that she would be subjected to in its wake- the fear had risen to a shattering crescendo, pushing her past her pain and into a state of pure, driven instinct. Even as Margaret had sought to straddle her back and finish the fight with a hammering blow from above, Aida had pushed back as if a beast possessed, snarling with such fury she'd taken her opponent utterly off her guard. Margaret had had enough presence of mind to swing again, but Aida had taken the subsequent shot to the ribs and chest without flinching, without even feeling the way her bones shook under each blow, and just like that, she'd slipped within her foe's range. Clinching her in a bear hug, screaming, Aida had driven her larger opponent to the ground, straddled her, and then pummeled her desperately; that most of her blows went glanced off or missed entirely didn't matter, her eyes too wild, too filled with tears, to see properly. She landed more than enough, and when the moderators finally pulled her away, the fight was over.

Fear had pushed Aida to that victory... but also no small amount of luck. Anger had betrayed her, put her in a position of weakness and distraction that she most certainly could not afford. Her wins since then had come because, first and foremost, she had set aside her anger, and focused on her objective... letting her Fear force her to fight harder than she could ever have thought possible. The few times she had faced other fighters, rather than submissives or amateurs, she had won as much because of her that endurance as anything else; because no matter how much of a beating she took, she would not stay down. Lips curling into a sour scowl at her own reflection, she climbed to her feet and approached her own reflection, fists up, hands trembling slightly... a quick jab thrown at the air, and then another, each one greeted by a hitched gasp in the back of her throat. Her heart was beating frantically now, and the woman found it harder and harder to stand still, throwing more shadow punches, teeth clenching as she began to grunt with every empty swing. She had no idea how much longer it would be before her turn arose, though, and after only a minute or two the punches slowed, and then stopped, the blonde's breath coming in soft gasps as she rested her hands on her hips, stretching a little to limber up. She needed to get a hold of herself. It was too early to start forcing herself down this particular road.


But speaking of distractions... as she went through her stretches, her mind wandered again, to that first match... or, more specifically, the spoils that had come immediately afterwards. Despite herself, one of Aida's hand drifted along her thigh, very briefly, at the memory of what she had done to her first conquered foe.

After all the taunts and insults she had been subjected to, Aida had been more than eager to return them to her defeated foe in kind. Margaret had still been a little dazed, bruised and with a bloody nostril to show for her sudden loss, but otherwise fully conscious. She had even tried to match Aida's smug stare with a prideful glare, mouth tightly pressed. It was a stubborn pride, at that; Margaret had remained quietly defiant even as she'd been paraded around the ring like a mutt, tugged along by the hair as if dragged on a leash. She had remained sullenly silent when she was forced to disrobe and present herself to anyone who had watched the match, displaying her smooth, shaved slit and puckered anus when they had reached every corner of the octagon. She had gritted her teeth, letting not a sound escape while she had been subjected to a riding crop in plain view of everyone, even when crimson welts were raised across her buttocks in criss-cross, forming a line of red 'X's across her generously full ass. And when the period of public domination had ended, and Aida had dragged her off to the locker room for the far more lengthy private session, Margaret had kept her lips tightly pressed and hands clasped against her sides, refusing to acknowledge her violation at the hands of this younger woman.

But then, the walls had begun to weaken. A small moan when Aida had brushed a pair of nails across her soft mons. A shuddering gasp during a particularly sharp twist of her nipple. The sounds were initially brief, inconsistent, but even as Margaret had grown wetter and wetter, her arousal peaking, they had grown louder and more frequent, until the older woman was left shuddering in orgasmic throes around Aida's clever tongue, screams echoing across the lockers. And at that moment, when Margaret had lost her defiance, lost even the opposition to her submissive role, Aida had made the older woman service her. Over, and over, in every position and variation she could conceive, for nearly two hours. By the time Aida had finally grown too tired and too sensitive to be touched, she had absolutely coated her former opponent's face and chest in her slick juices, byproduct of a seemingly endless stream of rapturous climaxes.

It was the best sex she had ever had, by far, rendered so much more potent by the thrill of victory, or perhaps simply the evasion of defeat. She had come back for another match, and another, and soon she had all but abandoned any other fighting ring; cash prizes or prestige no longer interested her. Not even finding challenging opponents drove her. She fought for one thing, and one thing only; the look on her whimpering, frightened foe's face when Aida was on top during, and especially after a match. With every fight, she grew more seasoned- both at fighting, and more importantly at playing to an foe's nerves, catching them off-balance and taunting them in much the same way Margaret had so eagerly tormented her.

Aida's lips crooked upwards in a wicked grin at the thought. She had fought Margaret again a little more than two months later, and the meat of that match couldn't have been more different than that of her debut. Margaret's prior loss had clearly weighed heavily on the older woman's mind, as her taunts had been more infrequent, and far less confident... Aida had smelled that weakness, and had closed the distance quickly, overwhelming the woman with feinted strikes, and sharp knees to take out her core and strip the wind from her. Their rematch was over in less than half the time of their first bout, but Aida had spent plenty of time making sure Margaret's experience afterwards was no less humiliating... and no less invigorating. And like in the fight, the older woman had submitted far sooner than before, even seeming eager to service the young, bold fighter who had so clearly topped her.

The memories were beginning to draw a flush across her skin, and with a shuddering breath Aida shifted off the bench and climbed to her feet, beginning to pace back and forth. Her skin was buzzing, aching to be touched, but she always liked to save every bit of vigor she had for the match ahead... to say nothing for the celebration afterwards. So she continued to pace, hands clenching and slackening at her sides, teeth gritted as she tried to breathe slow and evenly through her nose, to focus on the fight ahead. She knew almost nothing about her opponent- another newcomer, perhaps, though sometimes it would take three or four months for a newly arrived fighter to cycle around to a match against Aida- and she wasn't willing to take any chances. Newcomers to the League were often the most difficult, when the opponent was still high off their own victories and training, confident in every punch they threw... they would fight harder and suffer more simply because they were self-assured that they would outlast their opponent. Only when a fighter had been subjected to a few rounds of utter humiliation, reduced to a vapid tool of gratification for the eyes of an adoring audience, did they start to slacken; Aida always saw the doubt in their eyes during a rematch, and she never failed to capitalize.

It was almost time. Hearing the thunderous music reverberating through the walls from the fighting ring- a precursor to every match, to amp up the crowd- she slipped on her jacket and strode from the locker room, out into the hall. She knew the route to the ring by heart now, past the gutted offices, through the empty cubicles, through the dark hallway and down a creaking flight of stairs. With every step that heart began to pound harder, and harder, her nostrils flaring and eyes widening just a little as the Fear rose up the back of her throat. She might be beaten tonight. Humiliated. Fucked like a rutting bitch in heat. The streak of victories she had so aptly accumulated, that she so tightly clung to, could be stripped from her in a single moment, leaving her open and exposed... she forced herself to face each possibility the entire way there, to picture herself in every agonizing, degrading position she had subjected her conquered foes to. By the time she neared the big set of double doors that led to the warehouse's main chamber, her knees were trembling, the Fear tightening her chest more and more with every passing moment. But as she pushed open those doors, and the unfiltered roar of the crowd washed over her, she felt that fear vanish, as it always had. Her hands lifted high as she matched their adulation with a bellowing war cry, each step confident and assured as she marched towards the room's center, and the canvas-and-wire octagonal ring that had been built there. From this angle, she couldn't even see if her opponent had already arrived yet, but at this moment, it didn't matter.

This was where Aida belonged. This was her ring. And whoever she was to face tonight, they would soon be made all too aware of just why that was.

Nestled away somewhere, hidden under the finely tuned techniques, the lean physiques, and the unwavering confidence, there lays a small part of every fighter that fears defeat. It’s fair to say that the existence of such a notion is built into the genetic code, an instinct that can’t be shaken, just suppressed. Of course, just like most things, fear is a relative quantity, not a binary one. The greatest fighters, the ones who stay perfect, the ones who seem to have an endless well of confidence that never ceases to replenish itself, are the ones who can hide this instinct best. Every fighter is afraid, every man or woman fears getting dropped to the ground by an errant blow or contorted into a pretzel, but not every fighter lets those fears dictate their actions, and this is what separates the greatest from the good. A fighter can practice and spar all they like, but when it comes down to it, a sheer will to win, an unyielding desire to win, is what wins fights.

At least, that was the mentality that drove Ava Duke. She had never been drawn to fight out of anger, desire or curiosity. No, Ava had been drawn by the prospect of winning in the most decisive of fashions. There was no thrill that compared to the excitement of battle. The pumping in her veins as she circled her opponent, the awareness of every little move of her opponent, the feeling of triumph as a blow landed square on the jaw, and best of all, the face of disbelief when Ava claimed her prize. This is what drove her; that feeling of competition, the ultimate drug of adrenaline, a thrill that seemed to show no signs of growing old, an accomplishment she found utterly and wholly enthralling.

~~~

Ava had arrived in the usual garments, her rather modest ride parked several blocks away from the warehouse that would hold the evening’s festivities. None of that was evident at the moment, however. The only thing to signal what would ensue later on in the evening was the crude octagonal ring at the forefront of the empty room, the sides and floor padded just enough to take the edge out of a tumble. Ava looked around the desolate landscape, the eerie silence of the poorly lit environment affirming her suspicion. She was the first to arrive, hardly a shock seeing that she was more than three hours ahead of the first fight of the evening. This was, of course, by design.

She first began to stretch. Ava had always been gifted with a sort of natural flexibility, which combined quite well with the speed of her blows. She had never been one to really inflict much pain. In truth, she was a much better wrestler than striker, able to use a torrent of limbs to cause her opponent to tap in so many nasty ways. Not only that, but she had quite the reputation as someone who toyed with their opponent. Ava would often find herself atop her opponent, holding submissions just to the point before they hurt while humiliating her opponents before finally tapping them out. Fingers would find themselves down the tight shorts of her feminine opponents, rubbing and toying with whatever they could as jeers and insults spouted from the sun-soaked brunette. This, of course, meant she had become a fan favorite in no time.

She began to stretch out her toned legs, the muscles of her backside straining against the tight spandex of her “uniform” as she did so. The rules of this league were far more sophisticated than that of where she had first fought. The league enforced a sort of uniform, though in all truth it was simply looking to show off as much skin as it could during the matches, with the spandex shorts and skimpy sports bra attracting more than a few cheers when it was first enforced. That being said, the most heralded matches, in her experience, were when the uniforms were taken away, usually when a girl was beginning to win a fight handedly. In short, playing to the crowd was just as important as beating down on the opponent.

Having finished her stretching, she walked into the makeshift octagon, the pads of her feet springing against the temporary padding below her. She bounced around on her feet, testing the spring of the surface, and throwing a few light strikes. It felt good. Her pulse began to stir, her breath began to quicken, and her eyes began to narrow as she almost felt herself absorbed by the feeling of combat. She was fighting a champion of this particular organization, though she had not bothered to look into her. The opponent did not matter to her. There was only acceptable outcome, and that was victory. She would enjoy, however, the downfall of a champion. They tended to be the most arrogant, the most self-assured, and the best feeling in the world, to Ava, was watching them slowly realize their fate. They could label the girl she would fight whatever they wanted, she would still moan like a whore around Ava’s deft fingers.

She smirked, throwing an elbow, before faking a double leg, stretching out her arms, enjoying the moment for just a second. She remembered the first champion she had dethroned. One of the tough blondes that seemed to inhabit the state, a girl who was only confident when those around her weren’t . It had been elementary, the second her golden locks had splayed across the mat. Limbs flew, and soon Ava had easily secured an armbar with her opponent face down in the ground. From there, that was when things had gotten fun. When the shorts of the “champion” had left her body, when the deft fingers had begun to tease and toy with the desperate and aching hole of her opponent, her tough jeers reduced to desperate moans, her steely gaze nothing more than a plead for more as she squirmed around on the mat. Perhaps the best moment of that fight, for Ava, was finishing her off, pushing her to orgasm and forcing her to tap as she did so, her will to resist far gone at that point.

As she began to walk back to her car, she grinned, remembering just how easy their rematch had been. Perhaps it was that natural fear inside of the girl finally welling up after such a crushing loss, or perhaps it was her desire to be humiliated further, but either way, the “champion” was once again nothing more than a drooling, horny mess by the end of the match. What excited Ava Duke the most about this league, however, was just how long the sessions of humiliation could go on. While in her previous fights, they had been nothing more than post-fight celebrations, they were now the stakes. It excited her, the idea of fighting for her own freedom, and that of another’s. Without a doubt, her first match would be interesting.

~~~

The audience was deafening, at least compared to the silence of afternoon, with blaring music and stinging jeers blending together to create a cacophonous symphony, one that Ava reveled in. Even from her locker room, opposite her opponent’s, she could hear the festivities of the fight that was going on. It made her blood hot. It was as if she herself was in that ring already. Her mind could already envision the whole spectacle. While other fighters tended to pace around or prepare for their opponent, Ava was different entirely. If one was to look at her from afar, they would liken her to a scholar. She preferred to park herself on the end of one of the benches of the locker room, engrossing herself in the atmosphere and losing herself in the whole mentality of the game. Her head would constantly spin, not out of worry or preparation, but out of enthusiasm. The smell of blood and sweat in the air was intoxicating, and she was helpless to the grasp it had on her emotions. Every waking moment of her existence was a struggle to not lose herself entirely in one thing, and at this very moment, she was losing that struggle. Counters, parries, and takedowns dominated her mind. The possible plays of her opponent, like moves within a game of chess.

She soon heard the unmistakable call from the organizer to head out, and she slowly rose to her feet, the calculations and simulations in her head vanishing as she steeled herself for the fight. Her pace was slow and deliberate, something she would hardly maintain in the fight, but she adhered to it for now. Her walk out would be one to remember, as she was quite intent on toying and throwing her opponent around. This would not be a short fight, but it would be a one-sided affair.

And as she left the secluded locker room, the bright lights from above flooded her vision, the non-descript members of the audience whistling as she appeared in her tight uniform, her curves eliciting the reactions they usually did. It mattered not to her. Her wrestling would speak for itself, and they would soon be unable to look away from her struggling opponent’s squirming form. The announcer boomed out over the stereo system as she walked to the corner of the octagon, pacing patiently, awaiting her opponent to enter so she could see just who she was fighting and how they sized up.

“AND NOW, our main event! In the red corner, a newcomer out of Norther California, AVA “The Sheriff” DUKE!” rang the booming voice, a cheer arising at her mention. She beamed at the attention, though the applause for her was soon cut short as music blared, marking the entrance of her opponent. “AND IN THE BLUE CORNER! The reigning, the defending, the undefeated champion in this octagon! AIDA “The Valkyrie” HENDRICKS!!” rang the voice, as in stepped her opponent, screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs, the cheering of the fans deafening at this point. It was clear to Ava that she was the underdog, but it did nothing to her cool exterior. She would soon prove the thundering majority wrong, she would topple this so called Valkyrie, cut off her wings and bring her back to the ground. She grinned at the thought, and stepped forward, the referee, pulling the two forward as he explained the rules.

The man was hulking, a brutish man who would be able to separate the two in a heartbeat, and his voice reflected that in its slow drawl, a sort of relaxed comfort hiding the authority his voice commanded. “Ladies, I want a fair fight and a clean fight. If I give you an order, follow it. When the bell rings, stop fighting or risk the consequences. If you want, you may touch gloves now” he added, a form of respect that Ava whole-heartedly denied as she retreated back to her corner.
Now was her moment. The whole crowd seemed to melt away as she stared across the makeshift arena at Aida. The world turned gray, her focus wholly undivided even now. She knew this would be a tough matchup if she was unfocused, and she was not ready to lose today. With the crowd drowned out, the world cut down to one person, and her mind calmed, she only awaited the ring of a bell. And as it came, ringing through the air like an arrow, breaking any sort of inhibition either fighter held, Ava felt at peace.

This was her moment. She knew exactly what she could do, and she was prepared to show everyone just how good she was at it. The sun-soaked brunette took a stride forward, meeting her destiny with the champion, now inches away from her opponent, the colliding of two titans being greeted with a grin from Ava Duke, the girl who had no idea how to lose.

As Aida entered the ring, she saw her opponent coming up to meet her in the preliminary discussion, her bright eyes quickly sweeping over the other woman from top to bottom. She didn't look concerned, or even make eye contact with her soon-to-be foe, far more focused instead on getting a feel for the woman's height, reach, musculature and posture. She was clearly a fighter, not just a sub looking to get her jollies in the ring. In fact, from the way this woman was eyeing her, Aida had little doubt that this smug bitch was already picturing her victory lap, and Aida's eyes narrowed a little at the implied disrespect. As much as the Valkyrie enjoyed winning for its own sake, she was starting to think she'd take a particular pleasure in stripping some of the sass from this cunt's eyes with a nice, long 'post-fight celebration' together. But she didn't let herself grow distracted by the numerous things she wanted to do to this smarmy bitch, instead putting all of her focus in comparing their stature. Aida was fairly certain she would have a few inches of reach on this bitch, perfect for a striker. As they returned to their respective corners and took some time simply staring at one another, Aida began to once more force herself to see what could happen if she lost... only now it was this bitch, this 'Sheriff,' who was the deliverer of her humiliation, the one laughing and groping and beating her, taking away her prized winning streak. And there was no way in fuck Aida was going to let that happen. The Fear was replaced with one absolute certainty.

She was going to enjoy this.

It was then the bell rang, the crowd's voices raising in encouragement as both fighters sprang into action. Fists pounding together once, Aida came out, guard up and ready, toned body moving with the smooth precision of a machine. Because that's what all that training, all the practice and physical conditioning had made it. Her hard, muscled form acted as pistons and pulleys, driven by her core, and as much as she let Fear take its place in her mind, she would not allow her body to succumb to any weakness, any pain. She wasn't composed of flesh, or blood. She wasn't vulnerable.

I'm going to fucking ruin this bitch...

Deep in her self-imposed state of focus, Aida was a bit surprised to see just how eagerly Ava was charging in- most of her opponents, even the hardened fighters, usually preferred to circle at a safe distance and test defenses- but pride and hotblooded zeal drove Aida to match it in kind, expression unreadable as she closed in. Her mind was focused, senses heightened, and even as the two women came together in a hard grapple in the ring's center, causing the crowd to erupt in a loud cheer she was measuring her opponent's movements. Aida could see the body language, the glances to size up the Valkyrie's balance and footwork, Ava's preference for lower strikes or sweeps... this woman clearly wanted Aida on the ground. As that typically meant she was dealing with a wrestler by trade, Aida's assessment of the woman's threat level rose sharply. Naturally, Aida had trained in defending herself from that kind of assault- she would have been a pisspoor fighter if she couldn't at least break out of a grapple- but when it came to the offense, she was paltry at best, and all her victories had come by knockout or submission under a beating, never from a control hold or an armbar. She didn't have the patience, or quite the proper amount of flexibility, to really go toe-to-toe with the best grapplers, and because of that most of her wrestling training focused on how to escape holds, and ideally how to regain footing from a half or full guard. Still, she knew she'd be at a disadvantage if she let things go to the canvas, and wasted little time shoving hard at Ava's arms, breaking their hold on one another.

She took a quick step back to evade an attempt Ava made to take her out at the knees and quickly slipped back into range, throwing a few snapping jabs to test her opponent's defenses; said defenses were certainly solid, as her punches either missed or glance off of Ava's deflecting arm, and Aida quickly had to duck her head to one side to avoid a retaliating strike. Even as the punch whistled past her ear, she saw just enough of an opening to land a short-range under-handed right hook, catching Ava in the side. Aida was shocked to find the other girl's body as hard and unyielding as her own, her blow lacking the wind-up necessary to get any real power behind it, and things grew even worse when she felt Ava's hand hook around the back of her head. The missed punch Aida had evaded had turned into a grapple, and Aida grunted as she was yanked forward, stumbling half a step before folding under a hard knee strike to her belly. Instinctively, her abdominal tensed just before the impact to absorb the worst of the impact, but it still rocked her to her core, a hiss passing from between clenched teeth. Her arm came up, wrapping around Ava's shoulders, and for a short time they pressed together like weary boxers, straining and pushing back and forth.

“That all you've got, you little whore?” Aida growled stubbornly in Ava's ear, her hot breath puffing on the other woman's face as she panted softly. She could feel her foe trying to force her down, hook her leg, trip her up, but she held the grapple stubbornly, sheer willpower and strength buying her enough time to trashtalk; “You're in my ring, bitch... and when I'm finished tenderizing that pretty little face I'm gonna make sure everyone's watching when I sit on it.” She even threw in a little, mocking kiss on Ava's cheek, before giving her earlobe a soft suckle and much harder nip between her front teeth.

She was in serious danger of losing her footing though, and so Aida finally gave her opponent a hard shove, stepping back at the same time to buy herself a little breathing room. Ava was close behind, though, clearly smelling an advantage, but this time Aida wasn't taking anything for granted, and as the other woman went for a shot to Aida's ribs, the Valkyrie twisted her body to one side to let the punch glance off, trapping Ava's striking arm beneath her own. She didn't want to maintain the grapple for too long- certainly having no intention of turning this into a wrestling match- so she held it only long enough to give her foe a hard yank of her own. Ava, clearly seeing this coming, was already pulling back to resist the pull, but just at the moment the Sheriff was pulling away, Aida reversed her momentum and rushed in, body stooping low to catch Ava in the belly with a shoulder tackle. Her strength was so immense she lifted Ava bodily into the air, legs pumping like a rampaging bull as Aida drove her opponent back, back, and into the edge of the arena, the loud metallic rattle of the fence as the Sheriff slammed into it greeted by louder cheers from the fans watching.

The moment they reached the wall, Aida's feet planted on the ground, letting Ava drop back to a standing position rather than trying to hold her up any longer, though she remained bent over, stubborn shoulder grinding into Ava's abs. Ignoring the hammer blow that thudded across her back as best she could- fuck, this woman was strong- Aida slammed a fist of her own into Ava's side once, twice, thrice, trying to get in a kidney shot. Unfortunately, the bitch seemed to have the presence of mind to cover herself up, and so the Valkyrie quickly went for a headbutt straight to Ava's gut, both hands grabbing the fence so she could pull herself into the strike. It landed, and Aida felt her opponent's densely muscled abs give way, just a little. Straightening up, wanting to take advantage of whatever momentum the strike had gotten him, Aida then did what she did best; stood toe to toe with her foe and swung jackhammer punches, looking to take advantage of any opening she could find as she kept Ava trapped up against the fence. Her opponent was turtling up very well, with uplifted arms that were able to fend off the worst of the punishment, but as Aida mixed up the angles and types of strikes, throwing hooks, jabs and uppercuts; she was fairly sure she managed to slip a fist between the other woman's guard, here or there. Unfortunately, it wasn't proving to be nearly enough to drop her, or loosen that stubborn guard.

Most of the time, this was where the fight ended; Aida's opponent would be overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity and precision of the strikes, and many were foiled when they tried to drop their guard long enough to counter-attack, only to get clobbered senseless. But Ava didn't seem to be dropping her guard, apparently content to ride out the impacts, and as much as Aida didn't want to admit it, she couldn't keep up this kind of frantic pace forever. Before her muscles could start to burn too much, she threw one last hard knee towards Ava's ribs- knowing it would in all likelihood be blocked, but at least still drive the other woman up against the fence again- before beating a quick withdrawal, her footwork meticulous as she slipped back towards the center of the ring. Once there, she began to lightly hop from foot to foot, limbering up, lifting her hands briefly to prompt a cheer from the crowd. She even gave Ava a cocky grin of her own, mockingly lifting a brow and gesturing with a hand for her to get back into the fight- prompting laughter to titter through the masses- but inside, she was far more wary; her gut had a dull ache from that early knee, and her early gamble had cost her a fair bit of energy. To top it all off, this woman was definitely the biggest challenge she'd had in at least the past year...

She could only hope that she had landed in enough shots to do some damage of her own.

This was not the plan. This was supposed to be easy, Ava was only supposed to be on her feet for a few minutes, not a good part of the round. While she was far from worn out, a luxury her opponent seemed to be missing, she was losing in all senses of the word. Glancing blows or not, Aida hit hard, harder than any of her previous opponents, and her footwork was good enough to avoid a lot of Ava’s usual tricks. That wasn’t to say Ava had been completely useless, she had landed a couple nice blows, but her head was fuzzy and her midriff was aching. Simply put, another set of exchanges with Aida like that and she’d be in serious trouble.

She slowly trudged back towards the center, unable to hide the lack of spring her step now possessed. She’d still be able to wrestle quite well, her endurance on the mat was impeccable, but whether or not she would be able to take the match there was another story. Tentatively, the lively blonde threw out a checking jab, trying to get a sense of her distance before she got to work once more. To her surprise, Aida, in one fell sweep, pushed Ava’s lead hand down, sending her own jab crashing against the nose of the bewildered fighter.

Ava’s head began to feel fuzzy, the second major blow of the fight landed upon her chin once again, and she felt a second wind coursing through her body. She was not going to lose like this, not to a cocky bitch like this. A mix of rage and fear fueled her next move, namely a couple of quick jabs followed by the infamous double leg. The Valkyrie fell from her heights quickly, taking to the ground, and sending a resounding slam as she did so, her body weakened by the force of Ava’s attack.

That being said, the champion was no idiot. She still took the time to put herself into a tight guard, a position that allowed her to reign elbows upward at the blonde who had taken her down. While these blows weren’t at full strength, Ava felt every one, a gash now appearing under her left eye, the cracks in her defense manifesting in a slow trickle of blood. She was surprised at just how proficient her opponent was at every phase of the game, even if her striking was a strength and her wrestling was less developed.

Ava knew she couldn’t stay in the path of Aida’s fists. The blows were starting to make her wobbly, even if she was barely showing signs of fatigue, and it wouldn’t be long before Aida found a way out. Deciding it was in her best interest to find a way into side control, which would avoid most blows from the champion, she started work on breaking the guard of the female below her. The best way to do so, and the way that most people were unable to resist, was by digging elbows into the thighs of the opponent, leading so her legs breaking apart from the pain. Posturing up, the blonde did just that, a devilish grin on her face as she did so, her eyes possessing an almost sadist pleasure in finally repaying the Valkyrie for the damage she had done.

Aida, however, was quite keen to stay exactly where she was. Thunderous blows continued to rain upwards as her legs desperately struggled to stay locked together, the digging elbows and driving hips of the Sheriff enough to make her elicit cries of pain. It was a battle of wills, with each inflicting punishment the way they knew best, and the first to break was likely to regret it immensely. And it was to Aida’s dismay when her legs broke apart for a brief second, a moment of weakness that saw Ava drive over her leg and onto her chest, pressing down on Aida and forcing her to deal with the rather dominant position she now had.

Ava grinned as she felt the thrill of victory flow through her, even if the fight was far from over. She had broken through the powerful legs of the champion, and now she could look to finishing the fight. There were so many options for a seasoned grappler from this position, and it made her giddy, her opponent only able to lay there and await her move. That ebing said, she was loathe to leave the position without toying with Aida at least a little. As a result, her elbow pushed across the face the flailing striker, and her other hand snuck down between the shorts of the Valkrie, roughly teasing the slit of her opponent. It led to an odd mix of pleasure and pain, and at one point a moan even escaped the lips of the champion, a gesture that empowered her to try and seek out an ending to the back and forth main event. She decided, seeing as Aida was leaving her arms uncharacteristically far away from her body, that an armbar would be the best solution for now. Like a viper, she lashed out for the arm closest to her, pulling it up as she prepared to bicycle up and lock in the submission.

Unfortunately, the second that Ava grabbed her wrist, the champion was well aware of what was to come. Being a rather common move, she knew how to try and counter it, a wave of relief washing over her with the knowledge that her opponent was not going for something more exotic. As Ava began to switch her hips to lock in the powerful move, Aida jerked her arms forward, using a burst of energy to push through the powerful grip of Ava, bringing herself to her feet, and sending Ava in a stumble opposite of her. Aida knew this was her moment, and as much as her lungs ached for air, she needed to press forward. And for a second, the two were in their corners once more, opposite each other; Aida, panting heavily, and Ava, blood trickling down her bruised face. It was a chilling moment, showcasing just how determined each was, even if both were dealing with their own issues at the moment.

Ava, on the other hand, was a mental wreck. She had just lost a submission that should have been hers without issue, or so she thought. This girl was clearly a striker, how did she get out of the armbar in time?! It seemed to put a whole damper on the match, even if there was ample time to try for another takedown and submission. For a split second, Ava was beginning to think about what would happen is she lost, her mind racing and panicking at the very idea. This was the exact wrong time to start doubting herself, as it turned out, as the energetic form of Aida was soon pushing forward, sending blow after blow her way.

Aida led with her jabs, pushing the girl up against the makeshift fence, grinning as she saw her opponent turtle up. Unlike last time, however, this was not her turtling up tactically to try and exhaust her opponent, this was a desperation play. She could see the expression of fear in her opponent’s face. This was the moment she was most familiar with. The moment when despair set in and she really hammered her opponent. Hooks, jabs and uppercuts came crashing against the shielding arms, and for the most part, Ava was able to withstand the onslaught. Aida saw this, recognizing that she was hurting herself more than her opponent, and decided to attack where Ava was not defending, namely her body. Hooks and crosses to the liver and gut began to rain down upon the blonde, and her defense soon began to crack.

As soon as her defense was cracked, Ava instinctively circled away from her opponent, doing her best to distance herself and hopefully regain some composure. There was another couple of minutes left until the next round, so she was stuck simply trying to survive. The trickle of blood and the mental distress were combining to make the usually rambunctious wrestler quite docile. What really clued her in on just how mentally out of the fight she had become, was the loss of her laser focus. The jeers and insults of the crowd were now rushing back, the chants to see her put in her place deafening. It was clear what the crowd wanted, and it was fair to say that their wishes would end very badly for the blonde.

Aida was quick to capitalize on this, slowly pushing forward, cutting off any escape for the blonde as she began to taunt once more. “What’s the matter? Haven’t said a word yet! Cat got your tongue?” she asked in between deep breaths. “No matter, I’ll own your tongue and every other part of you soon enough” she added with a smirk. Her feet continued to shift forward, making sure to allow Ava no escape. This would be the final push of the round, and the champion was clearly confident in her ability to end it here.
Ava, on the other hand, was desperately shifting and bobbing, hoping to try and get the Valkyrie to over commit. She didn’t have much resistance left, a few good shots would weaken her enough to either force a submission or simply send her reeling to the ground. If she could find a way past her foe, she could likely wait the round out and regain her composure. What frustrated her to no end was the patience Aida displayed. Despite all of the girl’s cockiness and ruthlessness, she was more than willing to take the time to properly seclude the reeling wrestler into a corner. Every which way she turned, Ava was met with the hulking form of her opponent, the fists of the Valkyrie growing closer by the second.

Aida grinned, at this point, she had pushed the girl far enough back to where escape was not an option. Moving either left or right would result in a devastating hook or kick that would topple the strongest of fighters , let alone a dazed wrestler. Now, it was only a matter of picking her shots well enough ti conserve energy. She was tired, and if she wasted a lot of energy, she'd be unable to score the win this round. On the other hand, Ava's resistance was weak, and she was confident in her own ability to bypass such a hasty and shaky defense.

Ava just hoped that her chin would be able to last long enough to escape the round.

For a long moment, when she was on the ground, mounted with a hand down her shorts, filling her body with such confusing, conflicting sensations, Aida was terrified. She could feel the control slipping, just as it had during her first match, and a part of the girl almost wanted to give up, get it over with, rather than letting her opponent drag out her defeat. But sheer force of will drove her to keep calm- as best she could, anyway- and wait for a chance, any possible opportunity, to present itself that would help her turn things around. And sure enough, that very miracle came, and in what seemed like no time at all, things had swung firmly back into Aida's favor, her confidence swelling with every moment; each time her knuckles thudded into the firm- but swiftly softening- flesh of her opponent, every time she heard a cry of pain from the bitch who had dared lay a hand on her but a minute earlier, her own heart soared. In what seemed like no time at all, she had driven Ava into a corner, and Aida saw the look of fear and doubt in the girl's eyes... and loved every moment of it. But the round had already gone on for too long; she needed to finish this.

She closed in again and Ava, disastrously, hesitated, clearly not knowing which way to try and dodge. This left her wide open to a swinging underhand that caught her clean in the stomach, doubling her over as her eyes flung open wide in shock, mouth opened for a scream that just wasn't going to come. Grabbing her by the shoulder, Aida forced her to straighten, then slammed her in the stomach again, and again, fist pumping, looking to destroy her opponent's core and strip her of her prized strength. The third blow proved enough and, swimming in pain and nausea, Ava finally toppled, Aida shifting to one side to let the girl fall past her...

Damnit!

Ava was down, but was already rolling onto her back, still clearly conscious, aware, and looking to try and fend Aida off for the rest of the match. But the Sheriff didn't seem quick enough to react when Aida took the fight to a level she normally avoided; all but pouncing on her prone opponent, she straddled the Sheriff's battered stomach, managing to trap Ava's right arm arm between her side and Aida's thigh. Clamping down as tightly as she could on the toppled fighter's bruised sides, leaving Ava with only one free arm with which to defend herself, Aida nonetheless had more than a little trouble keeping her balance as Ava began to buck and thrash with what energy her sore, tired muscles could provide. But the look of denial, disbelief, and desperation in Ava's eyes was delicious, and for a scant moment, the Valkyrie nearly succumbed to the same temptation her opponent had; a part of her wanted to try and drag this fight out just a bit longer.

But Aida was champion for a reason, and where Ava had let her arrogance and desire to showboat cost her a potential win, Aida was not going to let the whimsical tides of fate decide this outcome. But she knew that at best she'd have less than half a minute to secure the win before the bell rang, and she was just so fucking tired, even lifting her arms was becoming more and more difficult. If Aida couldn't end this, she didn't know if she'd be able to Ava in round two. Sweeping aside Ava's vaguely defending free arm with her hand, batting it away every time she tried to raise it in a block, Aida cocked back the other hand in a fight fist and slugged the Sheriff across the jaw, shouting; “TAP, YOU SLUT! FUCKING TAP!” A second punch, and then a third, and even a fourth, and for a moment, she forgot why she was even doing this; she stopped looking for a sign of submission, stopped demanding Ava's surrender... she just wanted to hurt her, make her suffer for the humiliation she had very nearly put Aida through. But just as Aida was drawing her fist back for a fifth hit, a savage grin on her face, she suddenly felt far bigger arms catch her under the armpits and haul her off, the deep, rumbling voice of the referee shouting; “She's tapping, she's tapping!” It took Aida a moment to regain enough composure to even understand the words, feet kicking almost comically in the air as the absolute bear of a man struggled to hold her back, but when she finally focused, she saw that Ava's free arm was indeed tapping, albeit slowly, as the girl was rendered more than slightly dazed by the beating she had taken.

The crowd erupted into cheers- mingled with jeers and boos here or there from people who had bet against the Valkyrie- as Aida began to run a victory lap around the ring, arms lifted. Normally she'd be shouting and roaring along with the crowd, but truth be told, she was too fucking tired, and even her steps around the ring were slightly plodding as she tried to recover from her exertions. She was absolutely drenched in sweat, panting hard for breath, and after her first victory lap she paused to lean forward, hands on her knees as she sucked in gasping lungfuls of air. With the fight over, she didn't immediately give her fallen opponent the slightest bit of attention, taking time instead to smile and wave wearily to the crowd, buying herself time so she could recover some of her stamina. After all, she wanted to be at her best for what came next.

When she finally turned her attention back to Ava, the woman was where Aida had left her, flat on her back in the center of the ring. At first, the Valkyrie wondered if she was actually unconscious- or maybe faking it- but when she reached the other woman she realized that Ava was very much awake, blood from the cut beneath her eye smeared across her cheek from Ava's fists. But she seemed intent on staring up at the ceiling, expressionless. For just a moment, Aida wondered what could be going through this woman's mind, she seemed outright shellshocked... but memory of that sneaky hand down her shorts washed away any such curiosity, replacing it with a quiet, burning anger and a desire to get full and total comeuppance. And so she leaned down, interjecting her face in Ava's field of view, beaming

“See, told you I'd tenderize that face!” She chirped, reaching down to 'gently' pat Ava on the jaw and cheek, where bruises were already mottling from the hits she'd taken moments ago. When Ava tried to turn her head away- whether from pain or disgust, who knew- the Valkyrie's fingers clamped her cheeks and forced her to turn back upwards; “Oh, don't go to sleep yet, sweetie. We've got a whole night of fun planned. But there's a real strict dress code.” A cheeky little wink before she straightened and drove her foot into Ava's tender ribs, rolling her over onto her stomach without the slightest bit of resistance.

She recognized the brand of sports bra Ava was wearing, had worn a few herself, before a training accident had burst one of the seams. Even as her planted foot kept Ava pinned to the ground on her stomach, Aida reached down and grabbed the back of that sports bra, just below the seam for one of the shoulder straps. Licking her lips, she leaned back and puuuuulled with all of her not-inconsiderable strength, hearing Ava give a guttural groan as her chest, lungs and belly were squished into the ground... ultimately, that was only an unexpected side benefit, though, and the real prize came a moment later when the sound of tearing fabric filled the air. The shoulder strap to Ava's sports bra ripped away, leaving a tear in the back of the bra itself. Another solid pull caused that to rip a short time later, and finally, Aida removed her foot from Ava's back and began to parade around the ring, waving around the strip of ruined fabric like a flag as she left her foe facedown and topless; obviously Ava wasn't in any hurry to roll over, but that was fine. After making a few laps around the ring, mustering up enough energy to mockingly skip like a schoolgirl- and tossing the remains of Ava's sports bra into the stands, where no doubt some pervert would claim it as his prize- she hurried back over to the center and dropped down on Ava's lower back hard, hearing the Sheriff's air blast from her lungs, leaving her gasping and coughing as Aida turned to face her foe's lower body. Her eager fingertips hooked in the Sheriff's bottoms, and pulled downwards, forcing them down to her knees, then pulling her feet up to get the shorts off entirely, holding them up triumphantly to more cheers before throwing them to one side and surveying her opponent's tanned legs and ass.

“My God, that tan just goes everywhere, doesn't it?” she cooed, and her hand slapped down across Ava's ass, first one buttock, then the other, back and forth, spanking the challenger with abandon til red palm prints littered the woman's full rump. Torso twisting to one side, she grabbed Ava by the hair and pulled back, forcing her head up off the canvas, so the audience on that side of the warehouse had a perfect view of her face. “You were so sweet to me earlier, trying to make me feel good,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I think it's only fair that I return the favor, hmm?” With that, her hand plunged past the other fighter's ass to dive between her thighs, fingers curving around to find her smooth, hairless pussy, bouncing up and down on the Sheriff's lower back whenever the girl tried to shut her legs. Aida smirked as she began to tease her opponent, starting first by rubbing her fingertips up and down the swollen lips, then parting them to sink a single finger up Ava's tight hole, letting out a throaty chuckle when she felt just how wet the other fighter was. “Ohhhh, someone looks to be even more excited than me! Mmmnh, let's see...”

Pulling her finger free just long enough to suckle on it, moaning just a little; the Valkyrie was getting hornier and hornier by the minute, but wasn't going to do anything about it in the ring. As far as she was concerned, the people watching would see Aida naked, let alone cumming, only when she lost and not a moment sooner. In fact, it was part of what made matches featuring Aida so popular; nobody had ever gotten to see the fighter completely naked or cum, and even the moan Ava had dragged out of her was more than most ever saw. This left them coming back, always hoping that today would be the day she'd be brought down and they'd see the proud warrior woman reduced to a quivering, needy slut. But for tonight, they'd have to settle for Ava's utter humiliation. Wriggling her hips a bit, rubbing her crotch very subtly against the Sheriff's lower back to get some delightful friction against Aida's thinly clad cunt- it would do until she could haul her opponent off to the locker room- the Valkyrie's fingers dropped back between Ava's thighs, this time finding her swollen clit close to where her pelvis pressed against the canvas. She used the tip of her index finger to rub and flick at the swollen nub as she stuffed her ring and middle fingers up Ava's cunt, pumping them in and out at a steady pace, the wet schloping sounds of her violation largely drowned out by the roaring of the crowd. All the while, she reached around with her other arm to keep Ava's head pulled up by the hair; she wanted at least some of the audience to see every look that crossed the girl's face, and given she knew at least a couple of them would be videotaping, she'd get to enjoy seeing those same looks sooner or later.

For now, she had her beaten foe caught in an impossible situation; sooner or later, Aida would force her to cum, and her adoring audience would get to see every little detail as it happened.

It had been a blur. One second, she had been desperately fending off the timed and grueling blows of the enraged champion, the next, Ava had been lost to the world, her head left reeling as she slowly murmured to no one in particular “What the fuck just happened?” It was as if the entire world had crumbled around her, and it had all happened so quickly. She had victory at her fingertips, as well as Aida’s untouched sex, and then she had lost it all. Now, all she could do was look upwards at the bright lights which shone so brightly, exposing her weakness for the world to see. ‘So this is what losing feels like’ she thought rather naively.

And her thoughts here cut short just then. There would be no time to try and understand what had happened, or to deal with the fallout. No, this crowd wanted her torn apart on stage, and a shiver went through her as Aida began to walk towards her. Just as quickly as she had lost the win, she was flipped onto her back, with a harsh foot digging itself into her bruised ribs. Lying on her stomach, however, provided no respite, as a foot soon drove her into the ground, her chest being painfully tugged at as her face was grinded into the ground.

Aida was experienced, and her movements revealed that quite quickly, as deft hands began to rip apart the sports bra that had been concealing her rather ample chest. With such raw power, it didn’t take Aida long, and soon her bra had found its way into the stands, to the massive delight of the audience, the action leaving a crimson tinge behind in the defeated fighter’s cheeks. There was something about being pushed face down in the bloody and sweaty mat that aroused her, which in turn embarrassed her further. Her tanned skin, especially that of her stomach and face, was now a sweaty, grimy mess. This, combined with the ordeal she was about to endure, dressed her up for the part Aida so wanted her to play perfectly; namely that of the cheap and filthy whore. She was already a blushing, wet mess and the evening had barely begun, a fact that was nt lost on the defeated Ava.

Her tight shorts were next, another prize offered to the crowd. She knew that there were people that collected these types of things, and even ones that would bring them, nailed onto a poster, in support for the opponent. What was worse was that her panties had went with the shorts, and from the brief glimpse upwards to the audience, the same person had collected every bit of her outfit. She didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that it would be appearing in her next fight, and that bothered her to no end. Yet, all she could do, despite her rage and embarrassment, was to silently take the abuse of Aida, hoping that her end would be quick and plotting for revenge.

That said, it was rather difficult to focus on planning her revenge when her backside was being brutalized, with hard slaps raining down on the tender flesh, leaving behind red prints that marked her as exactly what she was for the night; property. What was worse was the cheers that followed each action, a constant reminder of the public nature of her humiliation, the eyes of the audience burning holes in her nubile form, the overwhelming presence of Aida placating her, the soul-crushing defeat still enough to quiet down most of her resistance for the moment.

But then, a line was crossed. She felt a fistful of her brunette locks being forced upwards, her crimson face now forced to stare at the wide eyes of the audience, her humiliation now easily evident on her face. She knew just how embarrassed and defeated she looked, and this only added to the odd mix of arousal and shame that seemed to dominate her mood at the moment. It was hard to deny that Aida’s crotch rubbing up against her bare form was unappealing, but she wouldn’t endure this humiliation for such a thing, not if she had a choice, which she really didn’t.

And then it hit her, exactly what Aida was going to do to her on the stage, in front of everyone. Fingers found their way to the outside of her slit, which was thoroughly aroused by then, a fact that was clearly not lost on the Valkyrie. The taunting was the worst part, as she was forced to look at the crowd, the sharp and incisive words of her foe only illuminating the reality of the situation further. She may have been the first to violate Aida, but now she was going to pay dearly for such an affront. That said, Ava was hardly going to take it like a whimpering little bitch. At the very least, she’d show that was her still fight left in her, even if Aida would do her best to finger, whip, torture and squeeze every bit of it out of her.

“Fuck you. I heard you moan like a slut around my fingers. Next time, I’ll have you begging for me to beat you” she added with a growl, though the words were hardly intimidating when she was tits-down on the mat while being fingered. Indeed, she was already panting from the skillful fingers of her opponent, and her lack of substantial sexual encounters meant she was only going to be done over quicker. Sure, she had masturbated before, and had sex before, but getting brutally and viciously fingered in front of an audience with adrenaline coursing through her veins, that was a whole different story, and she was entirely unsure of how long that tale would last.

And there it was, the first moan from the cocky brunette fighter. And this seemed to open the gates, as it was not long before she could do little but moan and pant against the champion’s fingers. They started out soft, barely audible to Aida herself, but soon they grew in volume, and the crowd began to laugh at her, yelling out jabs like “whore” and “slut” as she was fingered, her body trapped down by the weight of her opponent. There was absolutely nothing Ava could do to stop her opponent, and her inhibition had all but vanished. The slow realization that she was going to be pushed to climax in front of all these people slowly dawned on her, leaving a sinking feeling in her gut.

Even worse, every expression was seen by the audience. Besides her breasts, her face was her best asset, and now that dreamy visage was anything but, with her facial muscles contorting every which way, her mouth forming O’s as she moaned, the audience members in front of her treated to a show, which was greeted by insults too horrible to recount. At this point, she couldn’t get much lower. She was certainly not a whore, but her body played the part perfectly, now writhing underneath Aida, her hips bucking against the fingers that were so far inside of her.

To Ava’s infinite dismay, she was greeted by the lens of a camera, which was circling around the octagon, catching every expression and every action she made. No doubt the film would find its way online and around the audience, and here she was, on the verge of an orgasm, being pushed towards it by a girl she despised and being taunted by an audience that was enjoying every second of it. Any other time, she would have ripped someone’s head off from their shoulders, or at the very least voiced her frustration, but the overwhelming mix of emotions and arousal seemed to leave her drugged, unable to do much except incoherently moan and cry out, dreading the telltale minutes before climax.

Yet, it had hardly been minutes before she felt the beginnings of her finish. Aida was quick to key in on it too, noticing how desperate and loud the cries of her victim had become and quickly adding another finger to the mix, her other hand yanking on the fist of hair, a mix of pain and pleasure now coursing through Ava as she began to desperately cry out. She knew she was close, and so did the audience, their intent eyes awaiting one of the worst humiliations, second only to admitting subservience to another, cheering Aida on, who seemed inspired to redouble her efforts by the enthusiasm of the audience.

Without warning, Ava began to spasm and shake uncontrollably, the onset of one of her most violent orgasms occurring before the eyes of the audience. The pace of the fingering picked up, and Ava’s face scrunched up, her hazel eyes looking out at the crowd, mindlessly, consumed by the immense pleasure her mind was dealing with. To the casual observer, she looked like nothing more than a degenerate whore, a slut eager for her next sexual satisfaction, and it was hard to deny such an allegation. Despite her bluster and her humiliation, there was a little part of Ava that was enjoying herself, enjoying being the slut that people craved to see, enjoying being used, and most of all enjoying being at the whim of the temperamental Aida.

Aida grinned, and Ava cried out, as her aroused sex began to spray out the telltale juices that marked her defeat, coating the hands of the champion and the floor of the mat. Aida’s grip loosened on Ava’s hair, and she slumped to the ground, brunette locks scattered over the floor, pants emanating from her as she came down from cloud nine. This was the thing she had feared most, and it had happened with ease. Yet, even with the anger and resentment that was so prominent within her, there was a little part of her that wanted to beg for more, to do whatever Aida wanted and more. That little part of her was deep down, and unlikely to surface, but it still existed, and that humiliated Ava to no end.

For now, as she lay there on her stomach, her ample breasts pushed against the mat, her hair a tangled mess, and her backside a distinctive red, she was only able to look up at Aida anxiously, her body shivering slightly as she envisioned exactly what was next, wondering just how brutal her punishment would be in private, when all of this was merely just foreplay. There was no getting around it, Aida had full rights to whatever she wanted, no matter how much Ava objected or cried out. The only question was how devious her opponent was, or perhaps how angry she was.

Either way, Ava lay there at the feet of Aida, unable to do much but await the command of the champion who had just forced her to orgasm in front of a crowd, no doubt the least of the burdens to come.

“Oh, very good!” Aida all but squealed, her girlish tones mocking in and of themselves as she felt Ava's cunt finally succumb to its release, the splash of juices all over the canvas leaving quite the wonderful mess. Just to rub in the insult, as she pulled her fingers from Ava's dripping snatch, she reached over to vigorously rub her filthy digits all over Ava's mouth and nose, filling her nostrils and tastebuds with evidence of her own arousal. She left Ava to stew on that for a moment, making a quick circle around the ring, hips sliding back and forth provocatively as she took a moment to play to the crowd; her nipples were almost painfully hard by now, poking out through the fabric of her sports bra, and she was pretty sure she had soaked her shorts through. Fortunately, the sweat stained seemed to more or less blend in with the stains from her overflowing excitement...

Aida had a few rituals that she went through with conquered opponents, and indeed her entire public humiliation phase was as choreographed and practiced as a play, with her impulses and imagination mostly coming into play in the locker room. Like Ava, she knew how to play to the crowd, and as far as she was concerned, putting on a good show at the end of a fight guaranteed she'd have more people cheering her name during the next. Heading to the edge of the ring, Aida collected a small knapsack the League official had kept for her- again, this was a tradition for the fighter- and returned to her prone victim, licking her lips as she dropped to her knees beside the panting fighter. Pulling open the zipper, she reached inside slowly, drawing out and savoring the moment of mystery, of anticipation and unease on Ava's face, before finally tugging out the prize; a thick leather collar, studded with metal adornments here and there, attached to a long leash. With Ava still clearly trying to protect her modesty- such as it was- as best she could, more specifically keeping those full breasts of hers concealed beneath her prone body, Aida encountered no resistance when she leaned over to wrap the collar around the Sheriff's neck. The devious adornment was thick, and broad, which meant that when it snapped into place with a few fastening bolts, Ava found her neck's mobility severely hampered. While she could still twist her head from side to side, she wouldn't be able to tilt it in any direction, and certainly not look down, limiting her to staring straight ahead of wherever her chest was facing, which for the time being was the floor.

Next came something that seemed a tad more whimsical than anything; a pair of dog ears on a headband, which had Aida actually giggling as she leaned down to tug them into place on the top of Ava's head. Of course, far less whimsical was the final item; a long, artificial tail that was attached to what was very clearly a butt plug. At first, Aida lifted the plug to her lips as if to wet it with her saliva, but after a moment she had a much better idea; leaning down, she began to rub along Ava's sensitive pussy, drawing a whimper from the girl that was music to Aida's ears as she got the toy properly smeared in her defeated foe's own juices. Then it was a matter of sliding the tip of the plug up between those tanned buttocks... finding her puckered anus... and then, with a slow push that had Ava hissing through clenched teeth, she stuffed the butt plug up Ava's ass, the fake tail jutting out and turning the girl into a literal bitch. Climbing to her feet and pausing for just a moment to admire her handiwork, she grabbed the leash and glanced around at the crowd, grinning as the cheers were swelling; anyone who was a regular knew what was coming next.

And when Aida suddenly leaned back and gave the collar a vicious upwards pull, it started to press down hard on Ava's esophagus, the startled gasps and nearly desperate choking sounds from the flailing fighter. Aida simply continued to pull, not saying a word, until Ava, starting to turn more than a little purple, let her desire for oxygen outweigh her desire for modesty, climbing up onto her hands and knees to try and alleviate the pressure, the collar still forcing her to stare at the floor. At that point, having gotten what she wanted, the Valkyrie loosened the leash's tension and let Ava suck in gasping, rejuvenating breaths; her new posture had those full breasts of hers in half-view to the audience, at enough of a profile so her stiff nipples were clearly visible. It also meant she could no longer keep track of what Aida was doing, giving the Valkyrie plenty of privacy to reach back in the bag and pull out a long, high-quality riding crop, which she swung through the air with her free hand in a few practice swings.

“Time to go for a walk, sweetie!” Aida instructed, and the riding crop came down across Ava's ass, hard; unlike with the spanking, the impact was far more concentrated, resulting in a far more intense sting, and a much more noticeable welt. She could see the way Ava's entire body stiffened under the blow, but when the Sheriff initially took the stubborn route and remained where she was, Aida simply brought the crop down a second, and then a third time, until her opponent finally began to shuffle forward on her hands and knees, crawling towards the edge of the ring as Aida followed just behind her.

It was then the next stage of Ava's humiliation began; when they reached the edge of the ring, Aids suddenly pulled hard on the collar again, choking the poor fighter below her until, hand clutching at her throat, Ava completely surrendered her modesty and climbed up onto her knees, at which point the choking ended and she was allowed to breathe again. But with the restrictive collar, the Sheriff had no choice but to stare straight into the crowd, and now her full charms were on display as she was almost close enough to the fence to touch it; from those fantastic breasts, to her toned and bruised belly, to her pelvic mound and just a hint of her pussy. She could not look down, could not look up, and though she could turn her head a bit to either side, it was not enough to get the jeering crowd in front of her out of view. They were so close at this range, every detail of their faces and hungry eyes sharp and clear as the mocked, belittled and jeered at the beaten fighter. Aida joined in like the showman she had trained herself to be, laughing and chatting briefly with the audience members closest, asking if they liked what they saw and letting them take pictures from their cellphones. And after a few moments, she started to use the edge of the crop to tease Ava's body with light strokes and presses. The loser, naturally, resisted mightily to show any response, but whenever the edge of the crop's head brushed against her stiff nipples or, worse, pressed against her clit, a moan would inevitably slip past her lips. Aida carefully extracted a few such sounds from the girl, making sure she put on quite a show for the men watching, before giving her ass a swat with the crop, signaling that it was time to drop back onto her hands and knees to crawl onwards, this time along the edge of the fighting ring.

The ring, being in the shape of an octagon, had eight sides to it. One by one, this humiliating display was carried out on each and every one of them, in the same fashion each time, showing Ava off to the entire audience bit by bit. By the time they reached the sixth side, Aida was delighted to see Ava climbing up onto her knees without being made to, even if only to avoid being choked again. The moans and sighs, she also noticed, were becoming more and more frequent, as the teasing strokes of the crop, maybe even mingled with the hard smacks of the rod across her ass, were clearly getting her hot and flustered all over again. The defeated fighter's knees were red and raw from crawling, and sometimes being dragged, across a mat that exerted far too much friction on her skin, and her ass was a criss-crossing pattern of welts raised by the repeated strokes of the riding crop. Once the last side had been visited, her body displayed and her slutty cries given to all the good men and women who'd paid money to see this fight, Aida led her back to the center of the ring, where that backpack waited... the collar continued to restrict Ava's movements and, on her hands and knees, she could only stare at the ground as Aida dropped the crop and reached back inside the bag. A satisfied grin on her face as she pulled out a leather harness, to which a strap-on dildo was affixed.

The strap-on was by far her favorite tool of public humiliation, a thick and dark blue affair that jutted outwards with a slight upwards curve, taking on the shape of a circumcised cock large enough to give even the most insatiable slut pause. She had fucked so many losers with this particular toy, and nothing energized the crowd quite like a good, old-fashioned fuck. Her free hand pressed against the back of Ava's neck to get her into position, on her knees with her forehead pressing into the canvas and ass upraised, keeping her even further in the dark on what the fuck was going on. The Valkyrie's tongue flicked across her lips as she dropped onto her own knees behind her defeated foe, the cheers of the crowd were growing almost deafening as she forced the Sheriff's thighs to spread a little wider, presenting that cunt at the perfect angle. Glancing around at the audience with a wide grin, lifting a hand to her ear to coax even louder cries and shouts of 'Do it!' 'Wreck the slut!' 'Make her scream!' Aida finally pushed the blunt head of the dildo to Ava's tight cunny, letting only the Sheriff's arousal lubricate her as she began to give a slow, hard push, slooooowly forcing the thick toy up her foe's resisting cunt... loving the muffled, horrified squeal that passed from the surprised Ava's lips as her pussy was brutally stretched around the unforgiving toy.

“Ohhhhh that's it...” Aida murmured, grunting as she forced the thick toy deeper and deeper with each thrust, hips rocking as her teeth dug into her bottom lip. The strap-on was designed so that every time she pushed against the toy, it applied just a little pressure to Aida's clit... not enough to get her off, but certainly enough to add a very pleasurable sense of tactile feedback to each thrust. Her hands reached out to grab Ava's wrists, and a brutal pull forced her arms up behind her back, leaving her hands stretched out towards Aida and fingers flexing and wriggling desperately as the other fighter seemed to be just trying to cope with her merciless violation. Ironically it in some ways echoed a particularly merciless submission hold, with the difference being that this time, there was no tapping out... just the relentless pressure on Ava's shoulderblades as her arms were yanked back, and the lewd violation of her stretched cunny as the massive toy worked its way in deeper and deeper with every passing moment...

“Mmmmnh I'm going to have fun fucking you, bitch,” she grunted, and indeed, her hips started to thrust more quickly, massive dildo pumping in and out of Ava's sopping wet cunt as a quickening pace, each push forcing Ava's forehead to rub against the sticky canvas mat.

It was fair to say that Aida was just as deft of a torturer as a fighter. Every action she took to further accentuate the rather decisive win seemed to somehow outdo the last. Being naked in front of a substantial crowd was one of the most humiliating things that could come to mind for the defeated brunette. It had hardly occurred to her that she could be dehumanized as well, turned into the literal bitch of Aida’s. The worst part was knowing that when she showed her face in the ring again, it would not be a proud fighter that the audience saw, but a desperate, helpless bitch. And as she was paraded around the ring, crawling on her knees with head forward, tail swinging between her legs, she had trouble disputing such a claim. Her defiant gaze was now listless, and every little action she took seemed to lack any sort of meaningful direction.

Despite how uncomfortable she was, with the constant sting of a crop on her tender backside, the choke of the collar, and the scraping of her knees and elbows against the mat, the buxom brunette couldn’t help but feel aroused from the whole affair. It was undeniable that Aida knew exactly what buttons to press and when, likely from the experience being a champion offers, and it was showing. It seemed that the more she was degraded, the more aroused she got, which in turn shamed her further, a vicious cycle that only fed into itself, leaving Ava a mess of emotions.

The smartest tact Aida had taken, however, was the constant change in ordeal. There was no time for the defeated to process their feelings or to gather any sort of resolve. This encouraged Ava to resign herself to her fate, to accept Aida’s abuse with a smile, to try and enjoy her degradation. While there was no such allowance that her competitive experience would allow, she found her resistance to be non-existent. By the end of her walk of shame, there was no need for the riding crop. Ava had learned how things had worked, and she was quite keen to follow suit with them, even if that meant submitting to Aida’s will the slightest bit.

And then, she felt it. Unable to look at anything other than the jeering crowd, she was only able to rely on her other, inferior senses. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what was next. Her head was pushed down onto the sticky mat, her cheek and nose pressed firmly against the ground as the next trial revealed itself. Head down, ass up, she was going to rode like a common whore in front of the entirety of the audience. There was something different, at least to Ava, about penetration. It almost felt like a violation, the penultimate one at that, something that she could never take back. And this showed in her face, a bright red now tinging her face, a shamed expression replacing the resignation that had once settled on her.

Aida, unbeknownst to her, had essentially undone all of her progress. Before now, Ava would’ve been blown over by a stiff breeze, let alone the commanding presence of the Valkyrie. Now, a new sort of fire had been ignited within her. In her mind, Aida had gone too far, and now thoughts of revenge circled her mind like sharks around prey. Now, there was one singular thought that cut through the fog of her loss; revenge.

However, by both the honor of the rules and her own physical shape at the moment, she was unable to do anything as the toy was pushed inside of her, eliciting a wide array of screams that soon devolved into moans. Her arms flailed around, that is, until she felt a powerful grip around her wrists, pulling her arms up at an awkward angle and leaving a dull pain in both of her shoulders that seemed to mix expertly with the perverse pleasure of her situation. It was not lost on her, the irony of the submission hold she was in as she was being pounded away at. In a way, there was no greater humiliation for a wrestler such as herself, unable to try and counter such moves, instead forced to balance herself on her knees as she looked up at the audience, her teeth gritted and her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

Of course, Aida wasn’t happy with just wearing out the tight hole of her defeated opponent, and they both knew this. Ava was not going to be done here until she had been pushed over the edge once more. The brunette began to wonder if she would reach the point where that orgastic finish was no longer pleasurable, a real possibility with just how quickly Ava seemed to melt at even the slightest of touched right now. Either way, right now, despite it all, every thrust sent a whole new wave of pleasure through her, every bit of her, from head to toe, shivering at each one.

Aida, being the expert she was, picked up on this extremely quickly, a grin spreading across her. “You’re enjoying yourself? My, if it was up to you, I’m sure this dick would be twice the size it is now! What a desperate slut, perhaps you should embrace it, seeing as you’re not much of a fighter anyway” she added with a laugh, releasing one of the wrist of her opponent long enough to send a sharp slap against the bottom of her victim, the action eliciting a stifled moan. As she picked up the speed of her thrusting, spearing the poor girl deeper and faster, she leaned in, casually ordering “Look at the crowd, I want them to see just how much you enjoy being used like this.”

Ava wished she could look away, wished she could defy the Valkyrie of her wishes, wished she could simply quiet her moans and endure with a stoic gaze, but it was not to be. Her wide eyes were on display for the whole audience, her poor attempts at hiding her facial expressions only making her awkward faces that much more pathetic, and her moans only growing in volume. Try as she might, there was no denying her body, and it was betraying her at every turn. Whether it be the more obvious signs of approaching the finish, or simply the subtle nuances, such as how her behind slowly rocked against the hips of her attacker. In short, Ava could only control the voluntary actions, and she currently had none. All she could do was stare forward and imagine just how meager she was in comparison to the Valkyrie.

Aida knew her victim was close, but it was not going as fast as she liked. She wanted the girl to finish all over the mat and quickly. Aida wanted the entire crowd to not only appreciate how deft of a touch she possessed, but also how eager of a whore Ava was. The only way to do both was to finish the bronzed brunette, and as it stood, the Valkyrie was not satisfied with the pace. Deciding that a little elbow grease could solve anything, she leaned in once more, growling to her victim. “You’re mine now. My property. I hope you understand what that entails.” She dropped one of the hands of her opponent, allowing her to emphasize her point as she spoke “It means I own these udders”, she said with a hard slap to the bouncing breasts of Ava, “it means I own this ass”, she continued with another hard slap to the behind of her fallen foe, before finally finishing “and it means I own every aspect of you, including your time. Right now, you seem to be wasting my time, and that’s not what my property is allowed. If I was you, sweetie, I’d be in a hurry to cum. Of course, I’m not you, since I don’t lose” she added with a slight grin, now pushing into the girl as fast as she could, determined to finish her.

The words meant nothing to Ava, she was so consumed by the pleasure of the situation that she was hardly concerned with the threats of Aida. The whole world seemed to be secondary to the smack of Aida’s thigh against her ample behind, followed by the slapping of her breasts against her own chest. Even the increased crank on her shoulders applied by the champion seemed to fade away as she neared the edge. The first time she had finished all over the mat, it had been one of the harder orgasms of her rather limited experience, but just from how she felt, she knew this would top this by quite a bit.

And without warning, she felt the onset of that exact thing. Her legs began to quiver, her breaths became short, and her back arched as far as was allowed. Her whole body began to shake as she felt herself spill out onto the mat and the blue implement that Aida had employed, even managing to soak the thighs of her assaulter as well. It was a violent and wracking experience, the energy left within the chesty brunette drained as she finished, every satisfied expression on display for the numerous onlookers in front of her. Cheers of ‘whore’, ‘slut’ and ‘bitch’ resounded as she was finished. It was as if Aida had slain her last vestige of modesty, leaving her with nothing to lose, though she was sure Aida could find something else to take.

Nonetheless, the brunette was far too drained to support her weight anymore, and she collapsed to the mat rather quickly, her arms only held up by the champion, and her head still pushed upwards by the collar that lay on her neck. It was quite the understatement to say that Ava was spent, she felt like she had just run marathon. Whatever Aida planned next would certainly be easy to execute, though it would be hard to see Ava doing much, other than perhaps whimpering or moaning.
Aida, slowly stood up from the limp form of her victim, looking down with a grin as she thought about what was to come, The night was hardly over for the brunette loser, even if Aida had to carry her to hell, she would make this bitch pay for even daring to step in the ring opposite her.

Aida, standing over her opponent while hiding her own immense arousal, was now free to do what she liked with the collared, aroused, naked, foe at her feet, and there was nothing that turned her on more than that.

As Ava hit her orgasm- and what a delightful release it was- Aida pulled her hips back and dragged the thick artificial cock out of the twitching loser's hole, letting her drop to the ground in a useless pile. Climbing to her feet, making another couple quick rounds along the edge of the ring, she lifted her hands, waved and smiled at the crowd as they crowed and trashed the loser... but that was all she was willing to give them at this point. Aida's arousal had spiked so high, she felt like she would burst at any moment, and she knew that if she didn't get Ava out of here soon, she might just accidentally squirt in her shorts where everyone could see it. So she slipped off the strap-on, made a beeline back to Ava and once more planted a boot in her ribs, rolling her on her back again, the butt plug tail twisting in her ass from the movement. Reaching down, the Valkyrie grabbed both of Ava's wrists and began to drag her along the floor, the girl too far gone to even squirm, let alone struggle; fortunately for her, the floor was devoid of nails, splinters or other such debris, but the texture of the concrete was still rough against Ava's skin as her conqueror pulled her from the ring and past the cheering crowd.

“Wave goodbye to the sporting little slut!” Aida called to the crowd as she dragged the mumbling, senseless Ava along behind her like luggage; her stubborness, and the trace adrenaline from her victory, pushed Aida's tired muscles to at least get Ava out of the arena room itself. The moment the double-doors closed, however, and they were left along in the hallway, she released Ava's wrists and knelt down, eyes bright with lust as her fingers fumbled with the Sheriff's collar.

“Come on bitch, let's get this fucking thing off,” Aida muttered and pulled the collar off of Ava's neck, giving it a toss to one side- one of the officials would scoop it up later- before grabbing Ava by the hair and forcing her to stand on shake legs. “Let's go, still got plenty of time tonight, and you ain't going down for good til the sun's coming up. Come on, come on!” She half-led, half dragged the stumbling, silent Ava down the same path the Valkyrie had taken to reach the ring in the first place.

When they reached the office space, with the rows of dark cubicles and long-abandoned chairs and tables, Aida paused their progress long enough to tighten the proverbial screws a little; giving her a hard shove that sent Ava sprawling into one of the cubical walls, sending the entire thing crumbling and leaving the woman collapsed atop a pile of broken debris and dust, moaning softly in pain and surprise as each wiggle of her hips forced the butt plug tail to shift in her anal cavity. Aida wasted no time mounting the girl, straddling her waist and licking her lips as she eyed the buxom girl's body; the sweat and grime from the fight was now mingled with plaster dust and bits of debris, peppering Ava's body in quite the horrid mess. There, in the dark office, Aida began to frantically rub her crotch all over her opponent's face, hissing and ignoring Ava's squeals or kicks as she reached around to smack her palm across Ava's cunt once, twice, thrice. Each strike drawing a loud, guttural cry from Ava's lips and making her entire body jerk and buck in a mix of stinging pain and humiliating pleasure. After that third strike- and as Aida's impatience began to truly peak- she climbed off of Ava and grabbed her by the hair with both hands, forcing the girl to frantically crawl along as she dragged her the final short distance to the makeshift locker room.

The grimy bathroom was no more appealing than it had been before, but at least there was more light. The ceramic tiles were cold and unyielding, Ava's body drawing a long 'squeeeeak' as she was pulled across it, finally, releasing her hair, Aida let her foe collapse into a heap, the Valkyrie's arms swinging in their sockets as she stepped away.

Her excitement was mounting as she stripped down, tossing aside her sports bra and wriggling out of her soaking wet shorts; her body, now fully bared, certainly did the moniker 'Valkyrie' proud, her firm breasts, stiff nipples and well-built frame covered in drying sweat and grime. Her juices were already running down her thighs as she turned back to Ava, tongue sliding across her lips oh so slowly... but then she took another small detour, fetching her phone. Flicking it on, she aimed the device's camera lens at her fallen opponent- adoring the look of surprise and rising anger that was spreading on Ava's face- and snapped a picture, sighing contently as she finally approached the Sheriff.

“You see these?” she chirped, squatting down and turning the screen towards Ava so she could get a proper gander. “These are... mmm, let's just call them your predecessors.”

Slowly, making sure Ava could see every detail, Aida flipped through images of what turned out to be quite the lineup of other 'losers' who had spent time in this locker room. The details on the faces varied- some were more bruised or bloody than others with sullen looks on their faces, some smiling and clearly eager to get fucked, (ironically with scarcely a bruise to mention as a result,) and others had expressions that strongly suggested they'd been cumming hard while it had been taken. Women deep-throating strap-ons, women masturbating themselves on camera, in plenty of shapes, sizes and skin colors. And there, at the end of the picture list... Ava's own image. Her dazed expression, mixed with clear resentment, highlighting the bruises on her face from the beating she had taken. With a girlish little giggle entirely contradicted by the dark, hungry look in her eyes, Aida set down the phone and straightened up, leaning back against the lockers. Reaching down with both hairs and gripping Ava hard by the hair, Aids forced her up on her knees and dragged her in closer, making her keep her face upturned as the Valkyrie towered over her.

“Now, I think it's time you started giving back,” Aida all but purred as she lowered her soaking wet cunt towards the battered face of her opponent, overwhelming Ava with the smell of her insistent arousal. The other fighter initially tried to pull back- an instinctive denial more than a conscious one- but a savage pull at her hair drew a whimper from the Sheriff, and tugged her head forward until Aida's mound pressed flush up against her mouth and nose. Still Ava tried to pull away, her breathing greatly restricted and eyes widening in a near panic, but Aida held her stubbornly in place, not saying a word, each shift in pressure from the struggling woman's face on her pussy drawing a shuddering sigh of pleasure from the Valkyrie's lips. Slowly, the struggles lessened, and the locker room was filled only with the muffled, desperate breaths Ava managed to suck in through her nose.

And finally, there it was. A smile crossed Aida's face as she felt her stubborn opponent's tongue; tentative at first, sliding along the Valkyrie's dripping slit and teasing her tight little hole, but as time went on, it gradually became bolder and more confident. Ava's glare faded, and then her eyes dipped entirely, refusing to meet the Valkyrie's gaze as she settled in to eat her victorious foe out, even shifting a bit on her knees to get more comfortable and reaching up to cradle Aida's hips. And boy, was this girl fucking good... whether it was experience or just youthful exuberance, it didn't take Ava long at all to get Aida panting like a bitch in heat, all the pent-up desire and anticipation driving the champion virtually rabid. Her hands released Ava's hair and instead began to cradle the back of her head, hips rocking against her opponent's busy mouth; her clit in particular was a weak point, and the moment Ava had that figured out, she had Aida moaning loudly, hoarsely, back arching and sweat covering her nude body in a sheen as she relished in every bit of worship her broken-in slut could give her. Her well-muscled body was so tense, every curve and line was emphasized, and when her release began to build- not taking very long at all by now- her body began to buck and spasm, toes curling and one of her hands swinging back to slam her knuckles against a locker door. “Ohhhh that's it, that's fucking it, don't you dare stop, I'll beat you fucking senseless if you stop, mmmnh gonna fucking cum, eat that pussy out you... little... whoooore!” Her breathing came to an abrupt halt, caught in her throat as for a long, agonizing moment her body went completely still, and her mouth completely silent... just before she tipped over the edge and her orgasm came crashing down.

“Mmmmnnhhhh ahhhhnnnnFUCK!” Her orgasm finally hit, the contractions squirted warm splashes of her juices all over Ava's humiliated jaw, nose and cheeks, each spasm that passed through the Champion's body producing another humbling layer of her thick arousal. Aida's eyes had rolled up in their sockets as far as they could go, tears squeezed out from her squinting eyes and sliding down her cheek as her free hand sunk long nails into her own breast, savagely twisting and tugging the nipple. As the release slowly faded, and the flow from her cunt stemmed into a much more gradual trickle, Aida finally released her held breath and gasped for air, slumping back against the lockers a little as a wide smile crossed her face. “Ohhhh girlie, you're a much better fucker than a fighter! Mmmnh!” A tug at Ava's hair forced her head away from Aida's dripping cunt, and a sharp 'slap' echoed through the room as her palm smacked the challenger across the cheek; less intended to hurt, and more to emphasize just how much of a bitch the so-called Sheriff was being turned into. This was made even more clear when three of Aida's fingers- from the hand she's just used to slap her opponent, no less- stuffed themselves down Ava's throat, forcing the beaten fighter to gag and recoil until her back pressed up against the bench in the middle of the locker room. Another hard push forced Ava's spine to arch against the bench, and her head to tilt back until it rested on the wood surface, staring up at the ceiling... for the few seconds it took for Aida to straddle the Sheriff's head and lower her cunt back over the other woman's face.

“But you're not done yet, loser,” Aida panted, and resting on her haunches, she leaned back a little, hands sliding around and between her own bent legs to press against Ava's full breasts, openly groping the girl as she was left sitting on the filthy locker room floor, face trapped between the eager Valkyrie's thighs. Maybe she would foolishly think she could tire Aida out early- drag orgasm after orgasm from the winner until she was too tired to claim her property any longer- but she was about to find out that Aida's long experience in claiming losers brought with it a prodigal level of endurance.

Still, as the Champion felt her conquered loser's tongue start to attack her cunt with clear purpose, Aida reflected that this was a lesson she was going to greatly enjoy teaching. Squatting above her foe, tugging and twisting Ava's nipples between her fingers, Aida groaned and squealed and made all manner of pleasing sounds as she settled in to receive every bit of pleasure Ava could throw at her. It was probably fortunate for the Sheriff's pride that Aida wasn't able to see Ava's hand slowly, reluctantly creeping down her own belly, inching closer to her cunt even as she sprawled out on the floor and ate her hated foe out like a helpless slut.

Ava had found herself in more than a few situations that had left her cheeks bright red with embarrassment and shame, but this topped all of them by far. It was bad enough that her bronzed, nubile body was marred by the grime and dirt that seemed to infest every spot upon the floor of the locker room. In fact, it was bad enough that her rival, who had just beat and humiliated her in front of an audience, was now being pleased by Ava’s tongue. However, the worst part of it all, as she lay there with her tongue ‘tween Aida’s folds and her breasts being toyed with like they were stress balls, was that she was enjoying it.

Despite just how terrible and messed up all of it was, Ava couldn’t help but feel her arousal growing by the minute. Her hatred and her anger towards the champion seemed to mean nothing as she lay there, lapping away at the slick folds of the Valkyrie. And no matter how hard she tried to resist the urge, her hand slowly snaked along her tanned stomach, her long fingers slowly finding their way to her aroused sex and beginning to rub the area with an intensity that would no doubt amuse Valkyrie. There she lay, the once-proud fighter who had nearly beaten the champion herself, fingering herself as she desperately obeyed the whims of the girl above her.

All of these feelings were intensified by the plug that had been inserted inside of her, every little movement and every action from Aida above sending waves of pain and pleasure through her sensitive behind, not used to the rather rough treatment it had received this night. In fact, at this point, the pain and pleasure was slowly bleeding together, to the point where the line between the two, in Ava’s mind, was rather blurry.

Of course, the tough brunette was not just giving up. Even if she had lost any sign of inhibition, she was doing her best to fight the tyrant above her. Using her tongue, which Ava perceived as quite skilled considering just how quickly the champion had managed to have her first orgasm, she wanted to exhaust the girl, to leave her panting and exhausted against the wall of the locker room after her fourth or fifth climatic finish. What she had not really counted on was the extensive experience of her opponent, which was not wholly known to her, or simply just how easy her plan was to decipher.

So, instead of really resisting her opponent, all Ava was doing was playing exactly into the Valkyrie’s hands. And it was to this end that when Aida began to hurl obscenities and threats like alms to a beggar, she quickened her pace. If everything went according to plan, Aida would flow between orgasms until the entire experience began to hurt and exhaust rather than pleasure.

Aida moaned out as she began to finish once more, her whole body twitching and writhing against the admittedly talented tongue of the girl below her. It was always somewhat astonishing to her just how easy it was to use her conquered foes. She played them like a fiddle, and Ava was no different. The dumb brunette was, as her phone displayed, just another in a long line girls who had been reduced to unabashed sluts. The whole idea reminded Aida that one picture of her foe’s humiliation was hardly enough to remind her of just how complete the process had been. As she teetered over the edge of her second orgasm she grabbed a fistful of her conquered foe’s hair, pulling her back just enough to encapsulate her mouth as she commanded “Smile!” before snapping a picture and returning Ava to her place. Looking at the photo, she was pleased at how easily Ava had given in, a wide grin on the face of the girl between her thighs.

Ava hardly had time to process the second photo of her utter de-humanization before she felt the telltale signs that Aida was about to finish. She redoubled her efforts and braced herself as she felt Aida begin to spray the already-stained pristine face of the Sheriff. All she could do was endure the second occurrence, as the powerful legs of Aida were already squeezing her head between them, forcing her to hold still with a vice-like grip. And when it was all over, the grip was suddenly relinquished and she was once more a crumpled heap on the ground, the powerful champion standing above her with a haughty superiority. It made Ava sick, the thought of being below such a hated rival, but she knew she would only be thrown back down to the ground if she tried to stand.

Aida grinned down at the girl, her toned body occasionally drawing away the lusty stare of her downed conquest. She was always the observant type, a trait that had come through practice on so many other beaten foes, and Ava’s uncontrollable lust had hardly slipped by. She had noticed that sneaking hand that had found its way to Ava’s crotch, heard the gasps and moans between her thighs, and noticed the pleasure in Ava’s deep hazel eyes. Nothing got by the keen senses of the Valkyrie, and now she was about to make the girl beneath her pay.

She reached down and pulled the girl up by her brunette locks once more, slamming her breasts and face against the wall of the locker room, leaving Ava’s head swimming. With her free hand, she sent a resounding smack against the ample backside of the pinned strumpet, the blow loud enough to echo across the spacious room, and hard enough to leave a dark red that bordered on purple. Despite the power of the blow, all she got was a grunt out of the Norther Californian, something that made her frown the slightest bit, eliciting a second blow on the same exact spot, this one met with more of a yelp. Aida grinned and sent a third and fourth blow, the pair of smacks devolving the defiant yelp into a pathetic mewl. “Do you know why I hit you, whore?” she asked sweetly, grinding Ava’s face against the wall as she inquired. When no response came, she sent another smack across the battered behind of the sun-soaked fighter, adding “When I ask a question, I expect my property to speak” she quipped, taking pleasure in the word property.

Ava grimaced at the phrasing, but not wanting to take anymore pointless hits, capitulated and growled “No”. Another hit followed, and she realized that the champion was looking for some sort of title, something that separated the prize and the prize-holder. Tentatively, she rasped “No Miss”; a satisfied ‘Hmmm” confirmed Ava’s suspicions.

“Because, instead of doing what I told you, you start using your hands on yourself. Now, as pathetic of a slut as you are, I’d thought you’d have at least a little restraint. When I tell you to do something, you do what I say and only what I say, I won you” she barked, following it up with another hard smack, which elicited a pathetic whimper, before asking “Do you understand?”

All Ava could do was softly whisper “Yes Miss” before she was once more thrown to the floor. It felt dirty, referring to her hated rival with such a respectful term. There were so many things she wanted to call her, ‘Bitch’, ‘Whore’, ‘Slut, but ‘Miss’ or something of equal respect was not one of them. It made her stomach twist in knots as she lay on her stomach, slowly rubbing the sore spot left behind by the powerful hand of Aida.

Aida pulled out her phone, swiping to the newest picture of her prize and savoring for just a few seconds before kneeling down and grabbing a fistful of hair, making Ava look at just how depraved she had become. By comparison to the first image, Ava was a broken and completely willing toy that the Valkyrie could use to her heart’s desire.
Several emotions flashed across Ava’s face: anger, disgust, shame, and embarrassment. However, there was one emotion that seemed to ring true no matter how high the others flared, and it was determination. No matter what Aida did to her, she would come back, a vengeful harbinger inflicting twice as much wrath upon her target as was inflicted upon her. And for a second, a mere hair of an instant, Aida was unsettled by the prospect.

But then, she stepped back and looked down at the battered, naked form below her and grinned. Despite her vast array of conquests, this was by far the best, and she would show that appreciation in one way; suffering. As she towered over the pathetic fighter below her, ideas raced and thoughts formed, each one a rougher, more depraved punishment than the last.

Ava was in for a long night, one she would never forget.