Brett delivered a kick to her temple, leaving her dazed on the mat. He stood with his legs wide apart, and scowled down at the damage with hot moist eyes. His scrotum began to swell and turn purple. With teeth clenched hard, he smiled defiantly. She hadn’t squeezed fast enough to fully crush them. There would be no more time for tricks. He moved to end the game immediately. Gelda covered her ears as she pressed her eyes to her knees, but no one could ignore what came next.


 Without any patience or grace, he slammed every enraged inch inside. The audience screamed louder than ever, then went silent as they were drowned out by Brett’s own. Every sensation from his injury was forgotten, along with the world around him, even his own name. The technology unleashed an ecstasy unfathomable in nature, blowing apart his every standard for fulfillment. It was a feeling any man would gladly die for. The swelling in his scrotum lessened as every sperm rocketed out. The male researchers who created the device tracked his brainwaves in their lab, and celebrated like they’d just won the World Cup.


 Gelda wanted all the time in the armory she could get, and slid as she dashed around a hall corner. Not only had her opponent seen how well a woman could fight, ruining any element of surprise she might’ve had, he’d also seen the true magnitude of the prize. He’d probably been fantasizing about a situation like that most of his life, and now it was guaranteed to feel better than he ever dreamed. She swung around the next corner sharply, and had to grip its edge to stop a collision. She stared at the robe’s fabric, before looking up at his spectacled face.


 “So you’re the one.”, he said, meeting her deer in the headlights expression with a placid one.


 At a loss for words, she could only stand there, and smell the whisper of cologne floating through the robe. His head tilted to gesture the room full of torture devices next to him.


 “What do you wanna do to me?”, his tone carried no trace of fear. He waited for an answer she couldn’t think of.


 “I…”, she tried to speak regardless.


 His eyebrows raised slightly. Lips like pale rose petals parted, encouraging her to say anything. A shout from down the hall made her jolt, and gasp softly. One corner of his mouth flicked up, wordlessly saying he wanted to see her do that again. The clack of stilettos got louder until the only female organizer stood beside them.


 “It’s against the rules to speak to an opponent before the match.”, she said, staring directly at him.


 “You know I’d made you cum, right?”, he asked as if they were still alone.


 “You have five seconds to leave us!”, her tone was so biting Gelda flinched.


 He turned and walked unhurriedly around the corner, leaving a silence that only broke when she made eye contact with the organizer.


 “I’ve actually been looking for you too. I had this made special.”


 Accepting the long narrow case, she finally spoke with a sheepish, “Thank you”. The organizer placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but her gaze was hard and unwavering.


 “This may seem daunting, but I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do when the time comes.”


 Gelda walked slowly toward the medical wing, blank faced and numb after peeking in the case. It was a weapon requiring precision she never attained, impossible to use on a moving target. Clearly, it’s true purpose was to give her an excuse for failure. She remembered that most of the public wanted to see the men dominate, so of the course the organizers wouldn’t even risk the world’s biggest cock losing. Viewers were probably ready to pop champagne when he shot.


 He’d spoken with such relaxed confidence, “I’d make you cum”. Those soft full lips kept appearing in her mind; the sound of moisture between them as they parted. Whereas Brett was happy to make no physical contact beside his cock in someone’s mouth, her opponent seemed just as intent on giving as getting. Would his mouth be as spellbinding as his cool manner? Would he ignore the audience the way he did the organizer, and focus completely on her?


 She’d couldn’t look the other women in the eyes again if she came on his face. She’d be ashamed to show hers if she tried to 69 him, but the idea slowed her steps down the hall. She imagined his long fingers doing whatever work his mouth couldn’t, throughly destroying her loyalty to her team with his addictive touch. She would lose herself in trying to return the pleasure; sensations building between them until they came to an orbit stopping collision.


 He’d inspire fury around the globe if he came just from oral, choosing to satisfy her desires over anyone else’s. Security would probably throw him out on the sidewalk still naked. She pictured him shamelessly standing there when she pulled up in her car, half smile wordlessly saying he knew she could never let him go now. The announcement of the next match made her crash back into reality.


 The doctors worked with the speed of a NASCAR pit crew. She couldn’t even feel the device go in, but blushed all the same as they sent her running toward the staircase. She rose into view just outside the ring, and felt like a bug in a boombox as the audience let loose. She looked down to make sure her top was on correctly, a bra with logos of whatever companies paid for the ad space.


 She touched the weapon strapped to the side of her crotchless panties, debating whether or not to even fake trying to use it. The referee sounded off her name, which got the expected boos. Her knees felt uneasy as she peered at the other side of the ring, unable to see the opening to the men’s stairway. The referee looked at the note baring the man of the hour’s name. The first syllable was barely uttered when he bounded over the ring’s edge, already naked. No one had time to say a word before he snatched the mic away.