THE SPORTS CAGE
A super-heroine adventure by InterestingLife featuring SPORTY, based on an image by Exit-Zero (245).

DISCLAIMER : This story is a work of fiction. It may contain scenes of violence, sexual imagery and may depict scenes of non-consensual sexual activity, as well as torture and many other illegal activities. It is intended as literary entertainment only.
All characters used in this story are property of their respective owners.
This story is part of the continuity established by myself and my interpretations of the Exit-Zero universe, presented with his permission, and may not work in continuity with other stories. 

Direct any comments to : youngasuq@yahoo.ca

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"Let the games begin!" Lady Olive said at she sat down on her throne, gazing down into the arena pit where the heroine called Sporty was being thrown to the wolves - though not in a literal fashion. From inside the confines of her cage, Sporty wasn't ready for any kind of combat, let alone the one that was about to take place in the ring. Thankfully, they hadn't fully stripped her - just the parts to say that she would be naked. Her blue mask was still on, as were her long gloves and laced sports boots. Everything else, well...

She looked through the chicken wire grating of her cage and sighed. In front of her, ready for battle, were three opponents. The first one to stand out was a tall and muscular man, a black man, wearing nothing more than a loincloth, wielding a baseball bat. The second out to grab her attention was a a tall and muscular tanned woman, naked except for the belt she wore around her waist, where an impressive looking sexual apparatus had been setup. The third was younger than the other two, leaner but still very athletic, caucasian, also only adorned with a loincloth; he also had a length of rope tied into a lasso.

"This is madness!" Sporty called out, just as the door to her cage started opening.

Lady Olive simply smiled, leaning down towards her, exposing the ample cleavage from her low-cut golden-embroidered light green dress.

"My dear, this city is a little bit mad, I think. I'm just filling in the blanks..."

Sporty didn't want to leave the cage, but someone on the other side poked her back with the stick, forcing her to enter the fighting area. The cage door slammed behind her, locking her in with the other three fighters.

"Why are you doing this?" pleaded Sporty, hoping for some reprieve.
"There are many reasons..." answered the hostess. "Boredom, mostly..."
"Have you ever considered getting in on the action yourself?" hazarded the heroine.
"I did, and I have, young woman... I've earned my share of rewards in that pit..."

There was no backing out now. Sporty's enemies were advancing on her. She steadied herself, evaluating her chances against each individual, then against them as a group. She built herself a mental plan, hoping it would be enough.

***

"But dad! I don't want to be a princess!"

Mary Kipp was pouting in her halloween costume. She was eleven years old now. She could dress up anyway she wants. Her father had other ideas on the matter. The dress was pink and purple, and her blonde hair was tied in a pretty pink bow. She hated it. She had hated it the previous years but had never said anything about it before.

"Honey, you've always been a princess."
"I bet if I'd stayed with mom I wouldn't have to be a princess."

It was hard for Mary at that time. Her parents had just finished a messy divorce. Apparently, she had slept with someone from her work and now, their parents were no longer together. She didn't understand why. Her mother had tried to explain to her how unhappy she was, and how it would be better for everyone, now that the secret was out. The custody battle had granted the rights to her father. She didn't know why, though. She had heard it had something to do with character witnesses, whatever those were. It meant that this halloween, her father was making her wear the dress from last year. But she didn't to be a princess. She wanted to be Joe Montana! Greatest quarterback in the history of the world! So what if he was a man and she wasn't. Halloween was all about make believe.

"Now, don't go there, Mary..." her father chided her, "or I'll have you skip halloween this year."
"Fine! I don't want to go anyway!"

She hurried back to her room, still sulking. Her father did not go after her. She shut the door, resisting the urge to slam it. She jumped on her bed, on the NHL hockey blanket and hurriedly took off the dress, tossing it in the corner. She retrieved a basketball Jersey (Magic Johnson forever! she thought) and put it on. She tuned in her amateur radio to listen in on the game. The Yankees were playing locally, visting the Eve City team. It was going to be a great game, she thought.

***

The fighter with the rope lasso was the first she dashed towards. Immediatelly, he tossed the weapon in her direction, trying to wrap the noose around her. Quite expertly, she managed to intercept it around her left wrist. As the noose closed on itself, she ran up to him and punched him in the face; he was too focused on the weapon to actually block her attack. The hit knocked him on his back. She then kicked the end of the rope out of his hand.

The black fighter with the baseball bat was heading towards her. As he swung hard, she rolled low,  avoiding the hit, then she used the length of rope to trip him. It wasn't elegant in any way; she simply tossed the rope between his legs and he tumbled to the floor.

She was able to pick up the first opponent, lifting him off the ground, next wrapping the rope around his other arm to secure him as a body shield, while the muscular woman moved in on her.

"What do they have on you?" Sporty asked her. "Why are you doing this?"
"Honeypot, they ain't forcing me to do anything..."

So much for that idea, reflected Sporty. She knew everyone had a motivation to do anything; it was often just a matter of bringing it to the surface and making the individual think about the what and the why of their actions. It had helped her defuse some rather nasty situations in the past. But these three warriors, this combat pit, that was beyond the realm of reason. If pleasure of the fight was the only reason these three were here (and the promise of a reward afterwards), she could not hope to appeal to their better natures.

The caucasian man she was holding down with the rope was starting to struggle free. She was keeping between herself and the other two; the black man had retrieved his baseball bat. She calculated her swing, then pushed her dancing partner towards the caucasian male, forcing him to catch the propelled individual in his arm; she darted forward towards the tanned lady, who swung hard in return; while the lady's fist connected with Sporty's forearm as she deflected the hit, Sporty used the protruding appendage on her waist to gain leverage to push the lady up and above, flipping her above her head. The tanned warrior girl fell hard on the dirt.

Sporty turned to her assaillants, casting an ever so brief glance at Lady Olive, contemplating the fight with glee. It didn't seem to matter who won to her, so Sporty knew this was not simply about humiliating her. Lady Oliver seemed to revel in this kind of activity.

Recovering from their bump, the two male warriors tried to start coordinating their assault but Sporty was one step ahead of them. She moved to her right, keeping the opponent with the baseball bat at the greatest distance, then managed a quick kick to the other's shin. As his foot hit the ground, she waited for the other to swing the bat and miss; she stepped on the prone enemy's hip and jumped in the air, ready to fall down on the black fighter.

***

"Kipp! Front and center!"

Mary Kipp raced up to her coach in her black and blue volleyball uniform. It clung to her athletic body like a permanent hug, exposing her strong arms and legs. 

"What's up, sir?" she inquired.

The coach looked down at her. It was hard to believe that this rising starlet was not part of the team only a year ago. Where had she been all these years?

"That was some good handwork, out  there... maybe play a little more tactical, like a team..."
"I was hogging the ball a lot, wasn't I?"
"Yeah. Listen, Kipp... volleyball's a good fit for you, but I heard you also registered for tennis?"
"Yes. Is that a problem? The schedule's aren't contradictory. I checked."

Again, the coach smiled; this girl was so practical, it was insane.

"You don't want to overdo it... it's all I'm saying. Next year is the last of high school, you know... might want to focus on your studies."
"I am."

This time, the coach was perplexed.

"How can you be?"
"Look, coach, I know you're worried about me. Everyone's worried I'm pushing myself too hard in all things... and I've had this talk with other teachers and my mom..."

Mary Kipp put a hand through her blonde hair, looking around the gymnasium.

"I like sports... I like moving. Activities. Between the boxing, volleyball and now tennis, people think I don't have a social life. This is my social life. Not to mention the chess club and acting classes. My mother had me talk with a psychologist last yeary, when she finally got custody of me... basically, I'm something called an Alpha-type personality. I need to move. I need to have things happening. It's my mind that never stops racing, so I keep myself busy, because I like it. Don't worry coach... I've got this."
"You certainly seem like you're on top of things."
"I am. But thank you for caring. Was that all?"
"Yeap. Go back out there."

She smiled at her coach and returned to play.

Later, in the girls' locker room, Mary was sitting on her bench when she noticed two of her teammates staring at her. She turned her head to them and smiled. One of them walked up to her.

"So... the star outscored everyone again?" she barked at her.
"I just played the best game I could."
"And she's too cool to be proudful too..." the girl added.

Mary got up from her chair. Once a week now, something like this happened. It was getting tiresome.

"Henrietta, if you have a beef with me, tell me."

There were only three fifteen or sixteen year old girls in the locker room. Henrietta and Kacey, versus Mary.

"My beef is that you hog all the spotlight, and since you've gotten here, I haven't had any tail from any of the guys. They're all fawning over you."
"I'm not interested in that..."
"Oh! so you're into girls..."
"That's not what I said!"

Henrietta laughed, elbowing for Kacey to laugh along.

"Our star is a lesbian... who knew?"

Mary had heard it before. She had no interest in girls - or boys for that matter. Her only love was physical and mental activity, keeping her mind focused on the tasks at hand. Henrietta and Kacey walked away, but somehow, Mary knew this argument was not over and would come back at a later time. There was little she could do about it.

***

Sporty's fist connected with the blackman's jaw. Those boxing lessons were paying off, as were the rest of her athletic pursuits. This wasn't her first threeway fight, to be fair, although it was the first time she was exposed while doing it - but not the first time there had been people (in this case, Lady Olive) watching it. So far, Sporty was faring well, but she didn't feel any pride in it. It was all about getting results, maximizing the results while minimizing the energy spent doing it.

The blackman collapsed onto his back; she reached in and grabbed the baseball bat, rolling to her sides on the dirt as she too was a victim of gravity.

She saw, for the corner of her eye, that the tanned warrior had gotten up and was charging her, her heavy exposed chest bouncing as she neared. Sporty's reaction was less than honorable, but in battle, she had understood early on, there was very little honor. Only winners and losers. At the last second, without standing up herself, she lifted the end of bat towards her agressor; the tanned warrior had too much momentum to avoid as the tip of the bat connected with her crotch. But Sporty carried it one step further; she used the enemy's momentum to completely flip her her overhead. Rolling with her allowed the heroine to perform a handstand as she dropped the bat. She quickly darted away from the enemy she had knocked down, refocusing her attention on the two males.

Lady Olive applaued loudly, entranced by the battle.

"In all the months I have been running these shows, I have never seen such a playful and wonderful bout... you, Sporty, are a magnificient athlete."

The compliment was nice, even coming from someone as sick as the spectactor to the event, but there was no time for quips or comebacks. Sporty was all about getting the job done, and she needed to put these opponents down. So far, she had managed to keep them at odds with each other, but she knew they might eventually cooperate better, and that would add a level of complexity to her defense.

It looked like they were not going to be helping each other right now, though. The black warrior charged alone, not bothering to pick up the weapon lying on the floor, while the smaller caucasian picked up the length of rope. Sporty had maneuvered herself to stand right in front of the cage she had previously been confined in. When her attacker neared her, his full might aimed at tearing her in half, she dodged out of his path and above his head as he ran into the cage. She used her full weight to push him to the ground, then jumped forward and charged the other male fighter, hoping to get the drop on him before he could recover the entire rope.

***

"Kick her ass," the female voices screamed, goading on the attacker.

Another hit connected with Mary Kipp's gut; she took it in, refusing to retaliate. Henrietta and herself were now locked in a fight - more accurately, Henrietta's friends were holding her still, securing her arms so Henrietta could give her a beatdown. And Mary was taking it; her lip was torn, her nose felt like it was broken (but she knew it wasn't from previous accidents); mostly, her gut was on fire, since that was where her opponent was concentrating her blows. Mary was holding the pain in : boxing lessons had helped her internalize the pain and ignore its immediate outcome.

"Too good for us," Henrietta snarked.

Mary did not answer. What was the point, she thought. Henrietta and her lackeys had already made up their minds. Besides, there were only a few weeks to the end of High School. It wouldn't be so bad. Besides, Mary knew what this was really about. She had Henrietta pegged from the start. This was about pure jealousy, about Mary overperforming everyone else in the Volleyball team. The recent breakup between Henrietta and her boyfriend (something with which Mary had nothing to do with) was just the last straw. 

Henrietta was out-of-breath from her assault, so she retreated for a second. She examined the bloody face of her hated enemy, the ever-so-perfect Mary Kipp. How dare she interfere with her plans? She would make sure she couldn' participate in the last matches of the team, that way, all the spotlight would be on her, and she might finally get to score in all the ways that mattered.

Just then, one of the girls called out a warning.

"Shit! I think it's the coach coming."
"Fuck!" screamed Henrietta. "We gotta blow..."

She hit Mary in her mouth for good measure, then the gang retreated. As they let Mary go, she almost collapsed - almost. Seeing her remain standing, even after this beatdown, made Henrietta somewhat fearful. How much damage could this girl withstand anyway?

The coach was indeed rounding the corner. The attackers had vanished by then. He saw Mary from behind, standing for a moment more before falling to her knees. He immediately raced up to her.

"Mary! Gods! What happened?"
"Nothing important... I need to get to a hospital."
"Who did this? No. Never mind. I know."
"Coach... there's no point in telling on them... they'll get expelled, we'll lose the match, and no one will profit from it..."

Her calculated demeanor shocked him.

"Mary... they just beat you up."
"No. No charges. Please. Just get me to a hospital..."

He did that. And he followed her recommandation.

The week after that, bruised and injured, Mary Kipp played in the volleyball tournament. She scored second in the number of points, and Henrietta was only fifth. Mary played an incredible game during the few matches she participated in.

Once it was done, Henrietta and her lackeys never bothered her again.

***

Holding back was not an option here. The consequences of defeat were much more severe than a few minor injuries. Sporty still had the tactical element on her side as she strided towards her next adversary. She anticipated his action : he would try to wrap the rope around her in order to secure and bind her. She was fine with the first option.

The speed at which she arrived prevented her opponent from actually securing the rope as it swung around her waist. She propelled herself into his gut, head first. The air knocked out of him, he managed to hang on to the rope. She toppled on top of him; it was time to be more agressive. She swung hard, one left, one right, straight to his face. Boxing was paying off again - it was almost a knockout.

She suddenly felt strong female arms pick her up and wrap around her neck in a chokehold. The tanned female fighter had gotten up more quickly than anticipated, and Sporty had been forced to look away to focus on one enemy. As the taller female warrior picked her up off the ground, Sporty felt her impressive breasts compress against her back; she also felt the artificial appendage tied to her enemy's waist come rest against her lower back. The tanned warrior squeezed hard; luckily for Sporty, she managed to squeeze her left hand underneath the restraining arm of her adversary, thus preventing the choke from closing completely.

Getting out a chokehold was a very difficult maneuver, especially if you weren't grounded at the time. The taller opponent meant she could not use the floor as leverage.  Elbows to the sides sometimes worked, as did headbutts. Sometimes, just being a nuisance was sufficient, shitfting your weight left and right and up and down. There was also a time factor involved. The caucasian man on the ground would take several moments to stand, stunned as he as. But the other one, the black fighter, was an unknown at this time. It was uncertain how much the grate impact and subsequent knockdown had taken from him.

Sporty figured she had probably five seconds at the most to get out of the hold before things became grim.

***

It would have been a wonderful Christmas. Mary Kipp had been anxiously preparing for it, wrapping the gifts for her mother and grandparents early on, getting in the mood. It was a strange time to have a Christmas party, not simply because it was three weeks earlier than the actual date, but also because, less than a year ago, the world and Eve City had changed. The comet. The heroines. They were now all over the place, making a difference, making the world a little brighter. Mary had taken up to following their actions on the social networks.

Things weren't perfect for them either. Not two months prior, the heroine Andromeda had been publicly stripped and paraded across The Scene district by some villain or another. There were rumors of other things happening behind the scenes. And of course, there was the porn. Lots and lots of it. Hollywood had picked up on it instantly, casting actresses in heroine roles and filming their debasing. It was a burgeoning industry. It wasn't what Mary focused on more, but if prompted, she would have confessed to having watched a few, if only to sate her curiosity.

This was also the first Christmas where Mary would introduce her new partner to her family. Her father was permanently out-of-the-picture now, after what he had almost done to her on her fifteenth birthday. She was fine to talk about it now. In fact, she needed to air it out with her new partner.

She didn't learn about the attack until much after it had happened, and she raced to the hospital. There were police on site and she wasn't allowed to see the victim until they were done with their interrogation and the family had their say. Ten hours after the fact, desperately anxious, she entered the room where Kim Larkin, her very recent girlfriend, was being treated. Kim looked up, hopeful, but Mary's stern gaze made her cringe, almost fearful. Mary sat on the edge of the bed, caressing her cheek. Kim looked away.

"What... did he do?" Mary asked.

The was not immediate answer. Of course, Mary already knew what the criminal had done. She had overheard the police talking about it.

"Did you tell the police who it was?" a second question came.
"I... gave them a description."

It was strange for Mary to watch her friend - her lover? - find herself in this predicament, one where she almost been - no, not almost. There was no use denying it, not matter how little he had done to her. Something snapped inside Mary's mind at that moment, a new focus and determination, catalyst for everything before and after.

"Tell me..."

Kim Larkin did not answer. She didn't understand any of it. It made no sense. Mary understood that, as long as they were lovers, she could not deal with this as she should. A lover would remain with her, support her through this difficult process, help her move on. But this wasn't what Mary wanted to do. Someone who actually cared about Kim would stay at her side, like her family and parents, waiting in the hall for them to finish their conversation.

"Kim... listen to me."

Mary's tone was cold, almost unfeeling. It brought Kim back to her.

"On my fifteenth birthday, I went out to party with some friends. My father - he was very controlling. I came back around eleven. He scolded me, having waited up on me. He tried to punish me by sending me to my room. I laughed at him. That's when he snapped. He grabbed me by the arm, dragged me to my room. I was too stunned to react. He slapped me... hard. He tied me up on the bed, my limbs to different posts. After that, he panicked..."

She marked a pause. Kim was staring at her girlfriend, bewildered, unable to grasp where she was coming from or why she was telling her this, at this time moment of all times. Mary kept on going with her narrative.

"I was bound in bed for the entire night. I wet myself. He came into my room in the morning, less panicked, more sinister. He said he was going to teach me about partying. He said if I didn't want to be his princess, he would treat me like the slut I was... He laughed at me when he saw I had wet myself. Then, he got undressed; he started jerking off on top of me... I was certain he was going to rape me. He didn't though, not fully... but he covered all of me... did it twice that day. So I shit myself too. Second time was deliberate. It threw him off and he left."

She paused for a moment. 

"When the police came around, they said he'd gotten himself an attorney who had called them. They were polite about it, but I could tell the policemen were thinking I was responsible, somehow. That's why I live with my mom now."

Kim was in tears. This was a horrific story to share with someone who had just been victimized along the same lines. Or was she saying it for sympathy, to show that she was not alone.

"Mary... why are you...?"
"The reason I'm saying this is because I need you to know two things. One, I understand what you're going through.  Two, I can't stand by and let this go on a moment longer."
"What do you mean?"

Mary hated how cynical and logical she had become with time, but she could not deny herself anymore than she could lie to someone she cared about.

"If I was a good girlfriend, Kim, I'd stay with you and help you deal with this. But I'm not. I can't see you like this... I can't be with a victim."
"What?" Kim was stunned from the words, tears forming in her eyes.
"But I will not stand idly by and pretend it doesn't matter. It does. And I'll make it right. Goodbye, Kim. I did love you - it's just... I don't love myself."

Mary walked out of the room without looking back, wondering how cold she had to be in order to make it work, to become the person she wanted to be, out there, in that cold, dark, violent and sexist world.

***

Sporty didn't have time to consider options, so she acted on instinct. As reasoned as she was as a person and a warrior, sometimes, she knew from experience, letting your reflexes dictate your actions was the only acceptable course. Her right elbow went wide, connecting with the tip of her grappler's own elbow, right on the funny bone. Grip was slightly released, allowing Sporty to glide her left arm up into the opening and twist, pushing outward. It was impossible for the other woman to hold on; Sporty dropped to the ground and shuffled herself between the legs of her opponent, kicking her rear end as she did. The tanned female warrior almost toppled over.

The heroine's hunch had been right. The black man was already getting back up to his feet. She needed to hurt him quick and bad. She propelled herself through the air just as he was turning around and her right hook came down as hard as it could, powered by all her weight dropping from the sky on top of him. She felt the sting of the contact on her closed fist and let out a yelp of pain; he felt it more, his head bouncing back against the grating, only to bump into her falling form, right against her breasts. With her left hand taking the brunt of the cage onto which she was herself collapsing, Sporty managed to avoid injury.

She rolled to her side and quickly contemplated her opponent. He wasn't out, but he was clearly not in any situation to give her grief for several moments. The other male warrior was still wrestling with his senses as well. It meant only one opponent remained in the immediate.

"She can give up now, I'll accept her surrender."

Lady Olive laughed at the notion. The tanned warrior woman pounded her naked chest, then advanced on the heroine, determined to make short work of her. Sporty took in a deep breath; there was too much pride at stake for her adversary to give up.

As the tanned female lunged at Sporty, she used all of her boxing skills, raising her arms in front of her, deflecting hits away, striking back when an opening appeared. Her enemy was taller, but not stronger, and definitely not tougher. Sporty had realized, very early in her life, that she was made for sports and athleticism. It was only later that she figured out it included combat. Boxing wasn't her only combat form either.

Sporty blocked a right, then a left; using all of her built up energy and momentum. she front flipped, sending her knee onto her opponent's chin. The tanned warrior's head rolled back; Sporty's foot followed as she completed the twirl, falling on her sides with a loud thump. Her opponent, however, hit the ground and did not get up.

Sporty stared at the carnage she had just made. Three opponents down, two barely stirring, one completely out. She had won this fight. She knew better than to hope it was done as she raised her hands to an impressed and applauding audience of one. The Lady Olive had been given quite a show - what else was planned after this was another story altogether.

***

"What's this I hear about illegal fighting events?" Sporty inquired.
"Please," begged the criminal hanging upside down from the rafters. "I'll tell you. Don't hit me!"

It had been several months that Sporty had been operating in the district of Penton, also sometimes referred to as the Sports district, due to the presence of many arenas and sports places. It had seemed a perfect fit, and still was, despite all the bad experiences that she had endured in the time working to defend the citizens against all perpetrators.

"Tell me and I'll let you go," she replied with a glint of humor in her eyes.
"Wait, no... don't let me go... I mean... I'll tell you."

Just because she was cold and logical didn't meant Sporty couldn't have any fun.

"So... tell."

Tell, he had. In spades. For several months now, there had been rumors of some kind of illegal fighting operation going on. Fighters from various guilds had been approached by an unidentified third party and offered lucrative contracts to fight in an underground spot. That in itself, Sporty considered, was not a big issue. It was the other rumor, the fact that some people were actually being forced to fight - or possibly even kidnapped - that was most troubling. The latest one to disappear was one of the reserves for the Eve City Bombshells. Sporty was trailing her for the past two days. The criminal confirmed he had helped in securing her against her will, and had delivered her to an adress where whoever had paid him (cash only) would come and collect.

The rest, of course, was elementary. Classic ambush, resistance, defeat, capture. Lady Olive. The pit. The fight.

Lady Olive kept applauding for several moments more.

"Sporty, my dear, you truly are a wondrous creature... the most exquisite form I have ever witnessed in battle. Versatile, reflected, intuitive... did I mention sexy and hot?"
"Flattery's pointless, Lady Olive... I won. What next?"
"No pleading for escape? No true bravado about victory?"

Sporty shook her head, wiping the dirt off her exposed body. Being exposed like this... it scarcely mattered anymore, with the amount of times she'd been stripped by her adversaries. For them to believe it still affected her reflected what little understanding they had of her psyche.

She saw Lady Olive slip out of her dress. She wore nothing significant underneath, only long boots, elbow and knee guards and a choker.

"Well, Sporty, you have certainly earned the right to face the champion in battle."
"The champion? You?"
"Of course, my dear..."

Lady Olive jumped from her perch and into the pit with Sporty. Not only was the villainess sexy as hell, her form was strong, yet very easily hidden underneath an ample robe. She kept her body trimmed, in excellent condition. She cracked her neck.

The men were now standing up, but they retreated to the far corner of the pit, dragging the still unconscious woman along. Clearly, they would not inferfere.

"All right," Sporty said, "I have to fight you. I can live with that. But after?"
"After?"
"Yes, after... I know what you'll do if you win..."

Lady Olive's smile betrayed her intentions.

"But what if I win?"
"Well..." stated Lady Olive. "You get to fuck me with the strap-on."
"What if I don't want to?"
"It's not a choice, love. It's the rules."
"And them?" pointing to the three opponents she had faced earlier.
"You can have them fuck me too."

Sporty didn't get it. Why was Lady Olive submitting herself to this? Why was she involving herself, putting herself in harm's way, so to speak? Surely, she got off on this kind of activity. But there had to be more involved in what was happening.

"How'd you get messed up with this, anyway?" Sporty asked, hoping to spark a conversation that would allow her to evaluate her opponent - and fully restore her energies.

Lady Olive seemed only to happy to answer.

"Well... I started out in the ring, what... nine months ago? I was a fighter. They recruited from my work in the porn industry. I worked at a website called 'Fuck The Loser'. A format kind of like this...."
"This is being filmed, right?"
"Of course. Not streamed, though. No live viewers."
"Go on," Sporty said, trying to remain calm.
"Well, I got my ass thoroughly handed to me in the ring, several times... I must have sucked a hundred cocks, had even more inside my pussy and ass... sometimes all three at the same time. Then, there's the ladies... forced to munch, strapped, bound, fucked every which way... I could deal with that. It was part of the job. But you see... the previous owner, he really was a bastard. I remember, he took this young woman off the street, not even a combattant... twenty or so men had their way with her that night. Well, it just seemed too much, so I did something about it."
"What did you do?" Sporty asked, knowing the answer in advance.
"I ratted him out. Police took him away. I took charge of the organization and have been happily leading the warriors in contest for the past three months."

Sporty had fully recovered, but she wanted more than this for infomation. She wanted to know about the kidnapped girls.

"And you've never taken girls off the street like the previous owner?"
"Never. I only pick combattants. You were my first... unexpected visitor."
"You're bullshit!" replied Sporty, trying to get under her skin. "I know for a fact that women have been taken here and made to fight and fuck for your enjoyment!"

Oddly enough, Lady Olive was not fazed at the accusation.

"That is simply not so."

Suddenly, illumination her face.

"Ah! You are refering to the disappearance of Gabriella Burns."
"Yes... the Bombshell reservist. Where is she?"
"Not here, I'm afraid. Someone else must have been after her."

Sporty was generally a good judge of character. Somehow, Lady Olive seemed to be telling the truth. But if that was he case, who was behind the athlete's disapperance. The villainess actually proved even more helpful, adding information.

"If I were you, a heroine I mean, I would like into a more personal motive for her disapperance. It is more often than not someone you know..."

Sporty slapped herself internally. She was right. Even as a logical person, the heroine had come to conclusions, had linked two events which were unrelated : the fighting pit and the disappearance of the girl. She would have time to chide herself later - she hoped.

"Well," said Olive, "this being out of the way, what do you say we get this match under way? I'm eager for one of us to get fucked..."

Sporty sighed. This wasn't one of her best days. Then again, she had brouht this upon herself, and she would see it throught, as she always did.

***

It had been a grueling day for Sporty. Upon her escape from the pit, she had not managed to locate the criminal who had previously confessed to the kidnapping. She had instead followed the trail in a different direction, heading back to the arena and locating the victim inside the heating room. Apparently, she'd been the victim of particularly nasty hazing ritual, orchestrated by one of her teammates. With the police looking into it, Sporty was left to consider why the criminal had confessed, but there seemed to be only one logical conclusion. He had been hired to direct her to the fighting pit, so she would fall into a trap and be submitted to the trial. It had worked. The recording, she figured, wasn't simply for the benefit of whoever would be jerking off to it. Her fighting prowess was displayed in all its glory, as much in the first as in the second fight.

Back home in her apartment in Penton, Mary e-mailed her mother to let her know she was fine. She checked the dating website where she had registered. There were several messages from ladies interested in getting to know her. She deleted them all. She got up, took a shover and went to bed.

That night, she dreamt of the fight in the pit, confusing how it had actually happened and how she had wanted it to happen...

Lady Olive was defeated, her naked body laid bare against the dirt in the pit, covered in bruises, while Sporty triumphantly stood over her, her boot against the evil woman's throat, while she begged for leniency. The warriors looked on, amazed and terrified, at the sight of the victorious heroine.

Or perhaps it was Sporty on the ground, her head smashed against the dirt, and Lady Olive triumphantly and painfully sticking her heels into her buttocks, while the three warriors beamed with glee at the heroine's humiliation.

It might even be a tie, with both women wrestling on the ground, bodies clenched together in violence, their chests heaving, their legs intertwined, their exposed sexes rubbing ever so slightly as each attempted to maneuver their opponent into submission. They would exchange kisses as they fought for supremacy, groping each other as best they could, their catfight cheered on by the three warriors.

Sporty knew it was a dream. It was a way for her logical mind to reason the assault and violence of  the entire encounter. Being kidnapped... stripped... forced to fight for her virtue... it wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last. It was better than the encounter itself be diluted, spread over a myriad of possibilities.

Her victory meant that Lady Olive was on all fours, her back arched painfully as Sporty penetrated her pussy with the strap-on stolen from the tanned woman. The villainess moaned and panted as Sporty dominated her enemy fiercely, retaliation for the attempt at humiliation. The tanned woman could be in front of Lady Olive, their bodies interconnected as the subdued villainess was forced to eat our her lackey, while the other two men waited their turns to finally get some revenge on their boss. Sporty slapped her enemy's rear end as she gave her the most intense orgasm possible, knowing she was being filmed and fucked, defeated by the heroine whom she had tried to tame.

Her defeat meant that Sporty was caught, captured, and Lady Olive looked on as the three warriors had their way with her. The black man was in her face, forcing himself down her throat, gleefully enjoying her wet lips and welcoming mouth. Below her was the tanned warrior, the strap-on deep inside her pussy, ravaging her insides and teasing every sensitive spot it encountered. Of course, the caucasian warrior was just behind her, his dick planted firmly in her ass, pounding away until kingdom come. And Sporty looked on as Lady Olive masturbated on the dirt, watching her be violated, getting off on it.

Or it could be no one won. With both the heroine and villainess too weak to fight them off, the lackeys proceeded to exact revenge on the heroine and their employer. They forced the two enemies to work on each other in an 69 position, while the boys rammed their hard cocks into the deep pussies of the victims, as the tanned female warrior goaded them on.

Regardless, it all ended in a wild and violent orgasm for everyone involved, the victim - heroine or villain - covered in semen from the male participants.

A few days later, Mary went on the internet and typed in the keywords : Sporty Naked Fight Fuck. She deactivated the safe filters. It was the third result, and it was already available - for free. She watched it, if only to see if the images on the screen matched the images in her mind. They did, but it did not feel like her on the screen. That person looked like a stranger. It took a moment for Sporty to figure out why.

As soon as she figured it out, she deleted the video and never thought about it again.

THE END