[bcw8]

This is a sequel to The Peacock and The Samurai, at https://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php?topic=88120.0

“Why should I?”

It was a simple, infuriating, humiliating question.  Three words that dripped contempt.

Four months had passed since Halloween, and their fight at the movie producer’s pool party.  Connie and I were still together, but Kirika had dumped her boyfriend that very night, for the party host.  She was living there now, in his mansion.  He was gone, though, on location in Europe somewhere.  Kirika’s boredom was the only leverage Connie had.  She’d met the two of us at a cafe.

Connie wanted a rematch.

I couldn’t help but wonder why, myself - after Kirika had broken her, Connie had confessed two things to me.  One was that she wanted revenge.  OK, I get that.  But the other thing was darker, more conflicted.  “I liked it, giving in to her,” Connie had whispered to me while she fucked me.  “When I had to submit.”

I think Kirika sensed that conflict too.  I think that was the only reason she was even talking to us.  When she said “why should I,” she was saying so much more.

      I already whipped your ass.

      I already made you beg.

      You crawled.  You licked my pussy.
   
      What do you have to offer me now?

“Whatever you want,” Connie said, answering the unspoken question.

Kirika’s eyes flicked to me.  I heard Connie breathe in, sharply.

“I do have the house to myself,” Kirika said.  “David has lots of . . . toys.”  David was the absent producer.  I wasn’t surprised.  “A playdate might be fun - if the stakes are high enough.”

“Anything,” Connie said.  Only then did Kirika look at her again. 

“Say ‘please,’ bitch,” she said.

Connie flushed.  I put my hand on her leg.  She closed her eyes, and kept them closed while she answered.  I felt Kirika’s foot against my leg, under the table.  It slid up my calf.  “Tomorrow night, ten pm,” she said, and left without a backwards glance.  Connie didn’t open her eyes for a full minute.

[Rocko23]

Nice.. Hope that the fight is closer and that she does seem real damage - but that Connie loses again!

[tr0tz]

Connie is lovely, but she's getting herself into big trouble. Again. Curious about the stakes. Says a lot about the power relations between the characters.

bcw8, huge thanks for doing this sequel. Loved the first part and what a pleasant surprise to get a sequel.

[Drake8]

A sequel to The Peacock and The Samurai, what more can i ask for! I knew Connie is amazing, after that devastating defeat she is proud and brave to ask for a rematch.

[snw]

The first encounter was one of my all time favorites. The Samurai is my idea of strong,sexy,cocky,and dominant. Add to that her attitude to conquer completely, to the degree of showing all watching she’s the best. The trash talk the way she made the sexy Connie enjoy the beating and the fact she was made to watch her man be satisfied by the woman who destroyed her in front of both men. The worst part of that story was waiting for each part to be posted. Can’t wait to read this one.

[bcw8]

“First, video.”  Kirika stood at the huge window that filled one wall of the room.  She was dressed in green, lace lingerie.  Her gorgeous hair hung down her back past her ass.  Her body was tight and compact;  her nipples jutted up under the lace, her ass was perfect, her waist was rounded, not flat, and hard as a tree trunk.

There were cameras all around the room.  Some were scattered around the perimeter; some were set to record very specific spots in the room.  “We record it all,”  Kirika said.

“Second, you.”  She meant me.  She pointed at a chair set to one side.  It had restraints built in, straps and buckles for arms and legs.  A camera was dedicated to it.  “The prize has a place of honor,” Kirika said.  “Undress him, bitch,” she ordered Connie.  Connie obeyed, not meeting my eyes.   As she took my jeans to the floor, she also took my cock in her mouth.  Kirika smiled at her insolence.  “Winner takes him,” Kirika said.  “Loser never touches him again.”  I told myself I couldn’t protest; it would show no confidence in Connie.  Did I want to protest?  I sat, and Kirika strapped me in.  As she buckled the leg restraints, her red-painted lips slid down my shaft to its root.   Oh fuck, it was sweet.

“You.”  She meant Connie, now.  Connie stripped to her lingerie, black satin.  Her face was set.  God, her body was beautiful.  Kirika eyed her as hungrily as I did, but her appetite was different.  “You and I play with the toys.”

There was a table.  Kirika tossed a pair of gloves to Connie.  Fingerless, weighted sap gloves.  Six ounces of sand and steel shot sewn into them around the knuckles, a ridge of metal studs on the outside.  The impact of a punch, to the attacker’s hand, was spread and diffused.  The impact to the recipient was multiplied by the weight and studs.

Leather choke collars.  The harder you pulled, the tighter they constricted.

A thin chain.  Kirika let it unspool, and rattle on the hardwood floor.  A connector at each end; one for each collar.

There were more toys on the table.  Enough for now.

In addition to my chair, two cruel stations had their own cameras.  At one, a chain hung from the ceiling, ending with handcuffs and a hook.  It ran up through a pulley and down to an anchor on the wall.  The other was a rack of sorts; a padded beam across two uprights, a second crosspiece behind the main beam that locked into place, a trap for pulled-back arms.

“Or - “ Kirika said to Connie.  “You can lick my pussy once, and leave intact.  He stays, of course.”

“Fuck you,” Connie said.  The first words she’d spoken since we’d left the apartment.

Kirika smiled at her.  She clicked a remote on the table.  Red lights came on, all cameras.  “If you fight me, little girl, and you lose - like you lost last time - you belong to me.  My slave.  You understand?  I won’t just break you once.  I’ll break you, over and over.”  She walked to Connie, her stiletto heels clicking.  She looped one of the collars around Connie’s throat, and snapped one chain end to it.  The chain hung between Connie’s breasts, trailing down her stomach, over her crotch.  “He’ll watch,” Kirika said.  “For as long as he can stand to watch.  He’ll fuck me, for as long as I want.  If he doesn’t perform, you are punished for it until he does.”

Kirika stepped back. She put on her own collar, like a precious necklace; her gloves, like elegant accessories.  The chain dangled between them, its arc just dragging the floor. 

“Those are the stakes,” she said.  “Yes or no?” 

My cock was like steel.  I should have been praying for Connie to refuse, but I wasn’t.  I should have been praying for Connie to win, but I didn’t do that either.

Connie raised her fists.  The studded knuckles caught a flash of the ceiling lights. 

“Whatever you want,” she said, just like the day before.

[melissa_stakes]

Mmmmm, love the title .    If the stakes are high … then you better win or pay dearly .

[bcw8]

They circled.  Kirika’s left hand was on the chain.  Every few steps she took another turn of it around her fist.  Connie did the same, to guard against the Asian suddenly jerking it.  They slowly spiraled, closer and closer.  Kirika feinted with her left, the chain jangling; Connie’s hands came up defensively, too high.

Kirika’s right fist shot under Connie’s elbow, into her ribs.  The sound the sap glove made was a dull wump.  Connie’s torso twisted.  Her face contorted in pain.  Kirika’s left fist, wrapped with the chain, smashed her mouth.  Connie spun 180, blood spurting from her lower lip.  She landed on her knees.  Only the chain kept her from going down completely. 

Kirika’s foot stabbed into Connie’s back, an anchor between her shoulder blades.  Both hands on the chain, only a few feet from the back of Connie’s neck, she pulled, her biceps and forearms taut.  Connie was facing me.  I saw her eyes for just a flash as her head jerked back, blood spraying from her lips.  Kirika’s foot in her back arched her, her shoulders thrown back, her breasts thrust forward.  Her left nipple popped out of its bra cup, its sister hovered hard just inside the edge of the right one.

“Stupid cxnt,” Kirika said, to Connie? to me?  Connie’s face, pointed at the ceiling, was darkening.  Blood ran down her cheeks from the corners of her mouth.  Kirika held her for a few more long seconds, then dropped the chain.  Before Connie even drew breath again, Kirika kicked her in the back, driving her face down to the floor.

A brutal, sickening start.  Kirika’s heels clicked around Connie’s prone body.  As soon as my girl began to push up, Kirika jerked her sideways with the chain.  A game.  Let her start to rise, and slam her down.  After four times, Connie lay on her back, breathing in harsh sobs.  The chain had dug deep into her neck, an angry red ligature mark.

“Come on, bitch,” Kirika taunted her.  “Get up and fight me!”

“Let me get up,” Connie gasped.

Kirika lips curled.  “Say ‘please.’”

Connie closed her eyes.  I think part of her wanted to say it.  But Kirika was impatient.  Connie screamed, as Kirika lashed the free chain down across her breasts.  The Asian grabbed the center band of Connie’s bra, between the cups, and dragged her up to her knees.  This jerked her bra up, into her armpits, her breasts spilling out below it.

Kirika held her that way, and rifled punches into her tits.  Connie’s body jerked as each one landed, her head bobbing like a badly-managed marionnette.   The gloves.  Their weight, the studs.  Oh fuck.  Again, Kirika stopped, when she could have finished Connie right then.  She took Connie’s bra, and left her on her back, her breasts sagging to her sides, red turning to purple.

Kirika came to me.  She only had to drag Connie a few feet.  She knelt between my thighs.  She ran her amazing fingernails over my balls, then up my shaft to tease the rim of my cockhead.  A thick drop of cum built at its throbbing tip.  She dipped the tip of her tongue into it.  “Who sucks your cock better,” she said.  “Her?  Or me?”  I thought about how she’d made me cum during their first fight.  When I didn’t answer, she took me all, into her throat.

“Noooo,” Connie moaned.  I ached to have my hands in Kirika’s flowing hair, but not to direct her.  She needed no direction.  I was at the edge of no return when she pulled up, licking me as she went.  “Her or me?” she gasped.

“You,” I moaned, and I felt like I’d hit Connie myself.  Kirika smiled and nodded.  She turned back, as the motion of the chain told her Connie was getting up, and laughed when she saw her face.  It made Connie wild, that laugh.  She swarmed into Kirika, fists and elbows swinging.  The studs on her right glove split the skin where it was tight across Kirika’s left cheekbone.  Kirika staggered back.  Connie hit her in the belly, left, right, then gripped her lace top and ripped it open down its flimsy front.  Kirika’s tits were free, her stiff dark nipples jutting up an inch.  Connie hit them, the heavy gloves beating them flat against Kirika’s chest.  “You fucking cxnt!” Connie screamed, as Kirika buckled under the beating.  She hit her with each syllable, left right left right.

Connie dragged Kirika with the chain, dragged her to the toy table.  She slammed Kirika’s neck into the edge of its top, her long black hair fanning out across it, and held her there.

One of the toys was a strap-on, double-headed.  The wearer took a curved cock inside herself, and wielded a thick, rigid, immense shaft.  Connie picked it up, and beat Kirika’s upturned face with it like a billy club, then forced it into her gasping mouth.  “Suck this,” Connie snarled, and drove it as deep as she could down Kirika’s throat.

Oh fuck, it was brutal.  Kirika was choking, gagging, her eyes wide with panic.  Connie wanted more.  She lifted one knee up to the table to get over her foe, and raised her fist to hammer it down against the base of the dildo.

Kirika hit the inside of Connie’s planted knee.  Then, as her leg buckled, her pussy.  Connie fell, with a choked shriek of agony.  Kirika wretched as she pulled the thing out of her throat, dry heaves as she flung it away.  Her face and chest were soaked with sweat.   She tried to speak but only a croak came out.  She snarled instead.  Her eyes. Those were eyes from hell.

[CA Sleeper]

This is off to a great start!  I couldn't stop reading!  I absolutely loved the original, and I'm looking forward to finding out who pays the steep price in this one...

[bcw8]

Connie fought to her feet, but she couldn’t put all her weight on her knee.  She hobbled as Kirika stalked her.  With limited mobility, she made a stand, fists up.  Kirika was the better fistfighter.  Connie had hurt her, so the edge was slight.  Maybe for each two punches Connie landed, Kirika landed three.  It was savage.  They just stood there and hit each other.  I think the pain in Connie’s knee eased, because she used the leg more and more, but Kirika was brutalizing her.  Fist after fist rocketed into Connie’s body.  It was clear that Kirika didn’t want to knock her out.  She wanted to break her.  Connie stood, and fought, even as the ratio deteriorated to two to one, then three to one.  The Asian seemed to grow stronger as Connie weakened.  A final uncontested gutshot buckled Connie’s legs, and she fell.  She fell like a nerveless bag of meat, hitting the floor without any shred of control to break the impact.

Kirika stood over her, trembling.  She was soaked with sweat, her glossy black hair stuck to her face and back.  She was bleeding steadily herself, not only from her split-open cheekbone, but from her mouth and nose.  Her compact body was blotched with bruises, livid on her gleaming skin.  But she was standing.

She dragged Connie to the table.  Connie was conscious, but so badly beaten that she might as well have been dead.  She couldn’t lift her arms.  She couldn’t lift her head.  Kirika put a foot on her neck, but she didn’t need to.  She peeled off her sap gloves and dropped them.  There were other gloves on the table.  Gloves with curved, polished claws at their fingertips.  On Kirika’s hands, they transformed her into a tigress. 

She dragged Connie to me, propped her on her knees in front of me, knelt behind her, the chain coiling and rattling on the floor.  Two sets of eyes met mine:  Connie’s, dull with pain; Kirika’s, alight with sadistic fire.  Kirika’s damaged throat made her voice harsh, or maybe it was just what this fight was doing to her.

“Look at her,” Kirika said.  She curled one hand around Connie’s slender white throat, and squeezed.  The other cupped Connie’s left breast, lifted it, molded around its underside, and squeezed.  All ten claws broke her skin, pinpoints of blood beading around the stainless steel curves.  She turned Connie’s breast.  She knew it was there, on the outer curve, the faint K scar where she had marked Connie at the end of their first fight.  Slowly, with her thumb, she retraced it, the claw cutting Connie easily. 

The sharp pain of this cruelty cut the fog in Connie’s brain.  Her eyes cleared, but now lit with panic.  She screamed.  Kirika squeezed her throat, and a little trickle of blood ran down, pooled on Connie’s collarbone, and spilled down her cleavage. 

“When he sucks your nipple, he sees my mark,” Kirika said.  It was true.  “He thinks of me.”  Also true.  To me, she asked, “Who’s the better woman?”

“Don’t,” said Connie.  Her eyes.

Kirika tightened her grip on Connie’s breast.   “If you don’t answer,” she said.  “I will put her on the rack and I will shred her tits.  Understand?”  I nodded.

“If you do answer,” she continued.  “I’ll let her up.  She gets the other tiger gloves.  Understand?”

“Don’t answer her,” Connie sobbed through clenched teeth.  Blood from the claw in her breast dripped to the floor.

“Who is the better woman?” Kirika asked, again.  I closed my eyes rather than see Connie’s.

“You are,” I said.

[bcw8]

“You are,” I said.

What else could I say?

Kirika stepped back, and let Connie get up.  Connie limped the few steps to the table, Kirika following her at the chain’s length, waiting and watching as she changed gloves to the glittering claws.  They moved back into the room, circling each other. Kirika crouched low, almost slinking.  From her nipples and her face, it was clear that the fighting claws, the image of a cat, aroused her immensely.

“Come on, bitch,” she said to Connie, her voice still hoarse.  “Come at me.”

Connie did, her teeth bared.  Kirika met her, head on.  Jesus.  I couldn’t imagine two men fighting like this.  They tore at each other with those gloves.  Both bodies were striped with red slashes as they went at it, screaming at each other.

Connie hurt Kirika.  She hurt her bad.  She got her claws under her breasts, into their creases where they met her chest wall, and sank them deep into her.  That put her thumbs in the perfect place to stab into the borders of Kirika’s dark areolas.  It was an unbreakable, agonizing, vicious grip.  The pain on Kirika’s face was incredibly erotic.  Her teeth were clenched, her head thrown back.  Tears streamed from her eyes, mixing with the blood on her face.  Connie shook her breasts, ground them together, jerked them apart.  Kirika sank to her knees.  The sound that squeezed from her throat was tortured, half-moan, half-broken-scream.

“Give up, bitch!”  Connie screamed at her.  “Goddamn you - give up!”

But it’s not quite right to say Connie’s hold was unbreakable.  Kirika couldn’t tear Connie’s hand away without suffering devastating damage to her breast - it was unbreakable in that sense.  But she could hurt Connie back - hurt her worse - until Connie let go, to save herself.

From her knees, Kirika dug one claw into Connie’s abs, and the other one into her pussy.  Connie’s scream was indescribable.  Within seconds, her legs buckled.  Both on their knees now, they leaned together, forehead to forehead.  Almost sisterly.  And dug in deeper.

Then Kirika shifted, and hit something.  I think, simultaneously, a steel claw stabbed Connie’s clit and another found some nerve in her abs.  Connie screamed, and jerked.  Her head whipped back as if Kirika had hit her straight in the face.  Her hands released, her arms fell limp.  Kirika shoved back too.  She lay on her back, sobbing.  Blood from her tits ran down her ribs.  Connie just lay still, on her side, her back to me.  I couldn’t tell if she was still conscious.

After a minute, Kirika dragged her to me, again, pulled her up to her knees.  Connie’s eyes fluttered, and opened.  Kirika reached over her shoulder, and used one polished claw to trace the thick blue vein on my throbbing shaft.  “He does have a beautiful cock, doesn’t he?” she said.  “Wasted on you.  It’s mine now.”  Connie sobbed, a sudden harsh burst. 

The discarded strap-on lay within reach.  Kirika picked up the chain, and pulled it across Connie’s chest, carefully sure that it was squarely across her nipples.  Behind Connie’s back, she pulled the two segments of the chain, left and right, together, and twisted them.  She thrust the hard rubber cock into this makeshift knot, and turned it.

The chain pulled tight.  Tighter.  Tighter, with each turn.  It bit deep into Connie’s tits, crushing her nipples back into her breasts, her breasts back into her chest wall.  Her breasts bulged over, and under it.

Another turn of the cock.  Another.  Kirika grunted with the effort.  Connie was barely breathing. 

One
Final
Turn

Kirika planted a knee against Connie’s back to keep her torture device from unspooling.  With her left hand, she dug her claws into Connie’s scalp, and tilted her face to mine.  With her right hand, she toyed with the swollen, exaggerated cleavage at the top of Connie’s crushed tits.  “When I first saw this chain,” Kirika said.  “I thought of this.  She’s so proud of her tits, isn’t she?  She likes for you to cum on them?

I couldn’t speak, but I nodded.

Kirika pushed Connie deep into the vee of my legs.  With her teeth, she pulled the sweaty, bloody tiger glove off of her left hand.  She gently stroked my cock.  It jumped at her touch, desperate for release.  With her still-gloved right hand, one finger, she carved a K into the tops of  Connie’s breasts, one on the right, one on the left.  Deep.   

I groaned.  Her hand on me, it was too much.  I couldn’t help it.  The first, explosive burst hit Connie’s face, and ran down her throat to her chest.  The rest spurted across Kirika’s mark, cum mixing with blood.

Kirika spoke to me, first.

“Who won this fight?”

“You,” I said softly.

“Who is better, me or this bitch?  Who do you want to fuck?”

“You.”

“Not this weak bitch?  Say it all.  I want her to hear it.”  Kirika was watching Connie’s face, not mine.

“I don’t want that weak bitch.  I want to fuck you.”

“Mmmmmmmmmmm,”  Kirika smiled.  “Now you, bitch.  Who won?”

It took a few seconds.  “You did,”  Connie whispered at last. 

“So what can I do to you now?”  Kirika asked.  “Remember?”

“Anything.”  Connie closed her eyes.

Kirika dug the claw hard into her scalp.  Connie sobbed. 

“Please,” Connie screamed.  “Please do anything you want to me!”

Kirika nodded.  She released the crushing chain.  When it fell away from Connie’s breasts, she screamed as blood flowed back into ruined tissue.

Kirika held the strap-on, and dragged Connie to the chain that hung from the ceiling, with its handcuffs and hook. 

High stakes.

[Lizzie]

Brutally delicious

[snw]

Absolutely love when two girls fight and the the gf or wife is beaten and her man is all to happy she got her ass kicked. To the point her man openly confesses his desire for her as she kicks his girls ass. Love to see Kirika use her strength advantage to break Connie. Like the first fight where the mutual  bearhug  When she was too strong for her. I think a bearhug is one of the most dominant ways to win when its 2 girls. Pressing body against body strength vs strength till one body can’t take it anymore. Kirika is bad ass in her dominance with the taunts . Breaking her mentally and physically while taking her man sexually while she watches because she’s to afraid to stand up to the  Asian fighter. Can’t wait to hear what she does to Connie next or to her man who is now at her mercy as well using the beating and sex appeal to captivate him.

[bcw8]

Kirika cuffed Connie.  The hook went into her collar, the chain around her neck.  It wouldn’t pull tighter now, but Kirika made sure it was tight enough.   She pulled the ceiling chain, hand over hand, until Connie’s was lifted to her knees, her torso bent forward.

Kirika came to me, released me,  brought me to Connie’s head.  Only a foot from her dull, beaten eyes, Kirika dipped to a deep crouch and took me in her mouth.  She made me hard again in no time.  With a contemptuous grin, she spit in Connie’s face and stood.  Slowly, she stripped off her lace panties, soaked with sweat, and blood, and her pussy.  She stuffed them into Connie’s mouth.

“Put it on me,” she said to me.

I picked up the strap-on.  Kirika stood in front of Connie still, her feet apart.  From behind Kirika, my cock against her perfect ass, I slid the anchor cock - much the size of mine - into her pussy.  She was dripping wet.  I buckled the harness around her hips.  The thick weapon jutted out and up, slightly curved. 

Revenge first, of course.  I watched as she pulled her panties from Connie’s mouth and forced the cock in.  Connie shuddered, helplessly.  Sweat and blood dripped from her tits to splash, drop by drop, on the floor.  An inch at a time, Kirika pushed her hips forward.  Connie gagged.  Desperately, she sucked air in and out of her nose alone, a thin whistling sound.  Just as slowly, Kirika reversed, pulling the thing back until just its head rested in Connie’s mouth.  She brushed Connie’s hair from her face, and gripped it with both clawed hands.  Connie closed her eyes.  I didn’t.  Kirika screamed and thrust - hammered - the cock down Connie’s throat, viciously fucking her face.  Connie’s tits flew and then swung in rhythm, slapping together when Kirika drove in, bouncing out when she pulled back.  The cock inside Kirika was driving the Asian close to orgasm, I could see it in her face.  I leaned in to her.

“Stop,” I said softly in her ear, but Connie still heard it.  “I want to be the one who makes you cum.”  Kirika was breathing hard.  I ran my hand over her breast.  It was slick and solid and incredible erotic.  I bent and sucked her nipple.  She arched her back and moaned.  I wondered if she thought I was doing this to spare Connie.  Either way, she pulled back from the ravaged brunette at her feet.

But all I had done was convinced her not to cum, yet.  Heels clicking, she walked around Connie, her cruel cock bouncing and swaying.  She knelt behind Connie's ass, and peeled her panties down, and off her legs.  Connie moaned when Kirika spread her legs wider; jerked when the tiger glove claws dug into her ass cheeks and spread them as well.

“I hope I’m your first,” Kirika said, and drove the cock into Connie’s ass.  For something that size, she was first, for sure.  She fucked Connie hard for maybe five minutes, but Connie fainted halfway through.  When Kirika realized that, she was furious.  She raked the claws down Connie’s back until the fresh pain brought her back. 

“You better stay awake, you weak bitch,” Kirika snarled.  She pulled the thing out of Connie, who shuddered violently as she did.  Kirika came back to me.  I took it off of her, for now at least.  Kirika slid to the floor, to her back.  Her face was under Connie’s.  Apparently, Kirika liked what she saw, because she smiled.  She reached up and gripped Connie’s head.  She spread her legs, for me.  When I mounted her, I was practically forehead to forehead with Connie.  Just how Kirika wanted it.  Connie was forced to watch my cock penetrate her enemy.  We all three trembled as I did.

“How does my pussy feel?” Kirika gasped.  Oh god, it felt amazing. I moaned.  I knew what she meant by the question.  “Better,” I said.  “Much better - than hers.”  Kirika squeezed me, hard.  God.

She shook Connie’s head.  “What do you have to say, slut?  Which of us deserves his cum?  You?”  Connie sobbed.

“No,” Connie whispered.  Her throat was wrecked now.  “You do.”

“Why?”

“You’re . . .better.”

I think those words, much more than my cock, are what made Kirika climax.  It was a convulsion, an animal storm.  Her pussy gripped me, milked me.  No man could have not cum from what she did.  I barely heard the sound Connie made when I did.

[bcw8]

I lay on top of Kirika as the sweat dried on our bodies.  She held my cock in the grip of her pussy, and I got a taste of the tiger gloves on my ass as she kept me there until I shrank to complete limpness.  She pushed me off then, and rolled to her knees, now nose to nose again with Connie.

“Tell me, bitch,” Kirika said.  “If we fought ten times, would you ever win?”  There was a flash of defiance in Connie’s dark eyes.  Kirika lifted her claws to Connie’s tits, and the defiance died as she flinched.

“No,” Connie whispered.  “I can’t beat you.”

Kirika stood.  At her motion, so did I.  She pulled me in front of Connie.

“I want to fuck him again,”  Kirika said.  “Make him hard enough.  If you don’t, I punish you.”  She stepped back, to watch.  “I’ll give you five minutes.”

Jesus.  Connie’s eyes lifted to mine and I don’t know if the hate in them was for Kirika or for me.  She parted her bloodied lips and I slid my cock into her battered mouth.  She tried.  I tried.  But Kirika’s body had drained me dry only minutes before.  Kirika peeled off her tiger gloves slowly as she watched.  Connie’s head bobbed up and down as time ticked away, more and more desperately.  It was no use.  When Kirika pulled me back, I was only semi-hard, and even that dissipated in seconds.

“It’s almost like you wanted to fail,” Kirika said, her smile sadistic.  “Let her go.”  I unchained Connie, neck and cuffs.  “Crawl to the rack, weak bitch,”  Kirika said to her.  “Don’t you dare look at me.”

Connie obeyed.  I helped her stand when she got there.  I locked her into it.  Its purpose was obvious; it held Connie upright, her back arched, her arms pinned back.  Her breasts, on display.  Her head was down, her hair across her face.

Kirika came to me, behind me.  I felt her tits against my back, her pelvis against my ass.  She reached around me, one hand toying with my nipple, the other caressing my cock.

“Look what I’ve already done to her tits,” Kirika said.  “She asked for that, didn’t she - challenging me again?”  I nodded.  “What do you think her punishment is, for not making you hard?”  she asked.  I was already stiffening, in Kirika’s hand.

“You’ll hurt her breasts,” I said softly.  She kissed my back, and squeezed me.  “Just like we planned,” she said.

Connie’s head lifted.  We both smiled at her.

Kirika moved to my front, and crouched.  “Watch how it’s done,” she said.  Her amazing mouth.  Her incredible body.  The promise of what she was going to do next, for me to watch.  I was hard as stone within a minute.

Kirika stood, satisfied.  Her hands curled into fists.  “No more gloves,” she said.  “I want to feel this.”  That first punch, into Connie’s slashed, battered tits, was savage.