HerCreed-ARE-epub Page 6

  “Me, too. I’d like super authentic. Leather bralet, or maybe even one that looks like metal. One shoulder piece. Mean looking. Forearm shields. Leather skirt that’s made up of panels. More show than actual cover. I’ll want to be able to still wear it with a strap-on when I’m fucking my prizes.” She bobbed her eyebrows at him and spoke with her hands, not needing any encouragement to discuss her costume. She knew exactly what she wanted. “And super high heels. Something that laces up my leg.”

  “Gladi-Raper shoes.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And your female assistant could remove all of it down to a sports bra and boy shorts for you to fight in.” He looked over her shoulder as if he were working out all of the details in his head. “Her at your feet. Hot. Won’t be another fighter though. Don’t want any of the other girls looking submissive. Fucks with their image during their fights.”

  “Oh, yeah. My bad. Didn’t even think of that.”

  “No worries. I’ll bring someone in for it. Create quite the buzz when you have your own slave at your beck and call.” He looked thoughtful for a second, and then nodded. “Actually have the perfect person. She’s already friends with all the fighters, male and female, so everybody would be comfortable with her. People like her. She’s wicked dirty and would totally dig this. And completely submissive. You could do with her anything you wanted, and she’d thank you for it at the end.” With that he turned around and left the ring.

  It almost sounded like he spoke from personal experience about her gonna-be slave girl, which made her want to vomit. So she tucked that into her never-gonna-think-about-it-again file. She walked to the edge and leaned on the ropes. “Hey, do you know who I’m fighting yet?”

  “Her name’s Layla. And she’s an asshole.” He kept walking, pushed open a side door and paused. He looked back at her. “And just remember what they say.”

  “Which is what?”

  “You never forget your first.”

  With a nod of his head, he was gone.

  When the door slammed, the auditorium was eerily quiet, and her fatigue from earlier had all but vanished. Moving to the center of the ring, she threw a few punches at her soon-to-be rival.

  “My first,” she whispered to the empty space. First fight, first asshole fucked—she didn’t know which he referred to. Didn’t care. There would be quite a few cherries popped in a few days, if she had anything to say about it.

  “An asshole.” KC pictured her opponent on her knees, ass in the air, with KC’s strap on deep in her ass. Her clit tingled at the thought of taking her first victory fuck. “I can most definitely handle an asshole.”

  Chapter Five

  Training.

  She hadn’t just been training for a few weeks. Nor a few months. This night had been years in the making.

  Hundreds and hundreds of days.

  Thousands of hours.

  Millions of heartbeats counting down to the moment she sat in the corner of The Cage with Creed at her back, his voice in her ear, telling her what she should do to plunder the woman facing off with her in the opposite corner.

  Boomer told her the day before that Creed didn’t coach many of the Rapers anymore during the fights. Usually, he left that to Boomer, Jackal or Rage. Too busy growing the business, his attention was shanghaied in too many directions, and he didn’t want to fuck with a fighter’s focus so he stepped back.

  But not with her.

  She felt special and loved it.

  And he was right.

  Layla, whose fighting name was, The Torturer, was definitely an asshole.

  KC had no clue how many bruises she was gonna sport the next day from the short redhead she’d been fighting. Her back was tight and she felt as though she’d pulled a muscle around a rib, and several of the hits she’d taken had ranged somewhere between unsportsmanlike and downright illegal. Even in their world. “She fights dirty.”

  “Then stop toying with her and finish it.”

  She halfway smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the man she wanted. Then she affixed her eyes on her target again. “What makes you think I’m playing with her?”

  “I know how you move. I’ve studied how you fight the past few weeks. You’re a machine. Better than most. As if your ego needs another boost,” he muttered when she let him see her smirk. “I bet you’ve already picked apart each of her weak points and devised a handful of strategies on how to flip the odds in your favor.”

  She smiled again, but didn’t turn around.

  He held her shoulder and rubbed one of the tight muscles close to the top. “So I know you’re just fucking with her, and letting her think she has a chance. It’s an interesting ploy.”

  Shaking her head, she stretched her neck and settled into the easy working relationship they’d seemed to find together the past few days. “It’s no ploy.”

  “Tomato, tamato. Then what do you want to call it?”

  “Her biggest problem? She’s too cocky. Thinks she can’t be beaten, and she’d gotten sloppy. So, I call it a derivation on the underdog property. Everyone loves a story of triumph. None of the people that paid to see the fights tonight has any clue who I am. None. I’m a faceless girl who’s about to get her ass handed to her. Well, you know what I mean.” She paused for a second and studied the other woman. The ref for the evening stepped away from the ropes, signaling the last break was about to come to an end. “But, tonight. In a few minutes. They will all know who I am.”

  They both stood, and KC found her focus.

  “And who are you, Gladi-Raper?” Creed was so close his lips brushed her neck when he spoke.

  “I. Am. Spartacus.”

  A bell rang, and Creed held up her mouth guard, just as The Cage began its descent to enclose them in, again. “When you fuck her, I want you to make her squirt all over the ring. And I want every last person in this auditorium to hear her begging for you to make her come. Understand, little girl?”

  Facing him, she gazed into his eyes and bit her lip. “Yes, Daddy.” Taking her mouth guard, she may have licked his thumb. Remove may and have.

  Just as the metal lowered enough to cut off their contact, he growled. The sound was low enough only she could hear it over the roar of the crowd.

  Stepping forward, she drug just a bit, giving everyone the impression she was tired.

  That was actually correct. But she wasn’t physically exhausted. She was tired of holding back. Tired of trying to be something she wasn’t.

  She was a Raper. One of the best they’d ever see. And the cocky redhead eyeing her from a couple feet away was about to meet her match.

  Centering herself to only the other fighter, she blocked everything else out with laser-like precision as The Cage finished its descent, sealing them into the ring.

  “Fighter ready?” the ref asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Fighter ready?” he asked Layla.

  She snarled or some kind of approximation of an answer.

  “And…fight!” The ref moved just far enough away to avoid Layla’s foot as it almost collided with his face.

  The other woman was an aggressive fighter, which had served her well, but she left herself wide open for defensive measures and offensive tactics to gain the upper hand.

  KC blocked the kick and slammed her fist into the woman’s upper thigh. The blow knocked her off balance, and she went down. Rolling with it, she ended up on the balls of her feet, charging KC again.

  Punches came at her in rapid succession, but now, they lacked power and follow through.

  KC more than filled the void. Every advantage she’d cataloged since the start of the fight, she employed to gain a quick advantage.

  One, two, three. Each hit met KC’s intended targets, and the other woman yelled in frustration.

  Layla rotated her hip too far when she kicked, giving KC the exact opportunity she’d been waiting for. Using a heel-hook, KC swept the feet out from under the other woman. It was a perfectly executed takedow
n, and the other woman’s expression was priceless. A little bit of awe and a whole lotta panic.

  The woman tried to turn over, but KC followed her down, pinning her head between her legs. Trying to escape was futile. KC had never lost a match with another when she had her thighs wrapped around her opponent’s head.

  Layla tried to get her hand up to loosen KC’s legs, but KC just grabbed her hand hard. Locking her arm with a bit of a twist at the end put the last nail in the other fighter’s coffin.

  Okay, maybe more than a bit, if the woman’s scream was any indicator. Her other hand hit the mat in rapid succession signaling KC’s first…official…win…as…a…Raper.

  The noise in the stadium as she removed her self-imposed filter would have knocked her on her ass if she hadn’t already been prone.

  It was like nothing she’d ever experienced.

  What a rush.

  The ref pulled KC off the other girl ‘cause apparently she didn’t move fast enough. She may have dallied a tad, but not a huge amount. The other girl coughed and wheezed as the doors to The Cage were opened. The Cage normally stayed in place for the victory lap, so the participants were protected while they fucked. KC just thought it was hot.

  Layla’s trainers entered the ring to check on her, and she shook off their hands. She was pissed.

  Hell. Yeah.

  Which was gonna make KC’s reward even that much sweeter.

  Then KC was lifted into the air. “You won. You won,” Boomer yelled in her ear as he twirled her around.

  She laughed as she looked for Creed, more than a little panicked that he’d left. That he’d missed it.

  But there he stood. On the other side of the bars.

  Proud.

  He was proud of her.

  His smile. A slight nod in her direction. Of respect. Pride that she fought for him.

  “I am Spartacus!” she yelled to the heavens.

  “Spar-ta-cus! Spar-ta-cus!” the crowd chanted all around her.

  “Miss?”

  Boomer stopped spinning her, and it took her a second to focus on the woman smiling up at them. It was her slave, Meghan. The woman who’d undressed her for the crowd at the beginning of the match.

  “I’ve brought what you told me to when you won.” The bag with her clothes hung over her shoulder, but she held up a strap-on with a good-sized dildo attached to it, a bottle of lube and her Gladi-Raper shoes.

  “Hell yes,” Boomer answered for her as he lowered KC to her feet. Before she could reach for her new weapons of choice, Boomer grabbed her hands and unwrapped the tape protecting her knuckles. “Trust me. You’ll thank me later. You’re gonna want to feel every inch of this victory, if you know what I mean.”

  “Fuck,” she growled, glancing over her shoulder at the other woman.

  The Torturer stood mouthing off to her trainers, looking more than a little pissed off. There was pacing and hand gesturing as she bitched to the two men glaring at her.

  KC had done her homework on the other woman.

  She never lost. A few times when she first started fighting a few years before. But not recently. Not in more than a year and a half.

  Until now.

  Taking away her winning streak made KC’s pussy wet. KC could only imagine how the other woman felt.

  No worries.

  KC was about to take and redirect her attention to something quite…different.

  Chapter Six

  “Meghan?” KC turned her attention back to her attendant, who was dressed as a slave from Roman times. Small in stature suited her bare-breasted attire.

  “Yes, Miss?” Her simple straight skirt hung nearly to the floor with slits almost all the way up to her waist. Metal cuffs at her wrists with a matching metal collar were so hot. Dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail, along with simple makeup, highlighted her nubile persona. But the attire didn’t look like a costume. She truly fit the role. Her gaze kept cutting to Boomer and a blush tinged her chest.

  “Put my shoes on me, please. And the strap-on. Then the rest of my Gladi-Raper gear. But you can keep the lube. That girl’s about to learn exactly what happens when she’s beaten by a Raper.”

  Meghan’s eyes expanded, and a wistful look flitted across her face. “Would you like me to remove your underclothes now or after I get your shoes on?” The girl glanced at her tits and her cloth-covered pussy, licking her bottom lip before she looked back up for the answer.

  “Before.” KC pulled her sports bra over her head, and Meghan needed no additional encouragement to hit her knees, drop all of KC’s gear, and draw her boy shorts down her legs.

  “Oh, fuck,” Boomer cursed. “I’m getting out of the ring now, or I’m going to get in huge fucking trouble. Enjoy yourself out there.” He kissed KC on the cheek and whispered into her ear. “Cause everyone else in the stadium has eyes for no one but you. Including a certain owner, pacing at the edge of the Cage.”

  KC glanced Creed’s way from beneath her lashes, and her pussy spasmed at the sight of him pacing. Like an animal. Fuck.

  “And he said to take your time. You’ve earned it.”

  “Thanks, Boomer. For everything.”

  With a wink he turned to leave.

  “Boomer? Can I ask a favor?”

  He looked down her body, not even trying to hide his interest. “Anything in that get up. Or lack thereof.”

  “Will you stay, but in the corner.” She nodded toward the one she preferred. “I’m going to need help with something in a minute.”

  With nothing else spoken, he backed into the corner, crossed his arms and waited.

  No questions.

  Turning her attention back to her slave, she nodded for her to continue.

  With a hand on her calf, Meghan drew one of KC’s shoes from the bag. She slipped it on, lacing it up to right below her knee. She grabbed the next, again leaving a hand on her other bare leg. It was sexy. Indulgent.

  KC stepped up onto the first heel, allowing her slave to guide her other foot into the second of her strappy shoes.

  “Very sexy, Miss,” Meghan told her in a hushed tone.

  “Agreed,” KC told her while looking right at her. “Very, very sexy. Now grab the strap-on. I’m so ready to fuck an asshole.”

  Meghan smiled, turning to grab the strap-on from where it had fallen on the mat. Her hand this time rode high on KC’s thigh, her fingernails digging into her skin just a bit. For leverage or from arousal, KC didn’t know. So hot.

  Dragging her fingers across her skin, Meghan finally had to let her go to unbuckle one of the side straps on the harness.

  “Meghan?”

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “You see the two smaller dildos in the middle of the harness?”

  “Ye-s-s-s, Miss.”

  “Get them good and wet before you put them inside me. I like the idea of coming on your spit when I fuck her.” KC nodded in the general direction of the loser she was about to take, but didn’t spare her even a glance. Which she was glad for, or she would have missed the rosy color filling Meghan’s cheeks at her instruction.

  Meghan unbuckled the other strap and brought the dildos to her mouth, one at a time. She licked them, sucking them between her lips.

  KC pivoted around and held onto the ropes, tilting her pelvis back as she widened her stance. Over her shoulder, she spoke to Meghan. “Spit on the one going in my ass.” She licked it again, and then spit on it. “Good girl.”

  Meghan’s smile was radiant as she crawled beneath KC’s spread legs.

  “Both at the same time, and ease them in. Not too fast, or I’m going to come. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.” The word whispered across the tiny crease where her thigh met her ass. Meghan’s warm hand held where her breath left off.

  “And, Meghan?”

  She stilled. “Yes?”

  “Get my ass wet, too. For the simple reason I want to know what your tongue feels like before the plug stretches me open.”

  The girl need
ed no more encouragement. She pulled her ass open with one hand, zeroing in on her puckered rear with divine accuracy.

  “Fuck.”

  “Fuck,” they spoke together.

  Her tongue. Perfection. Soft as she licked her, and then hard and pointy as she pushed it inside her. Not far. Not deep. But enough to tease her, tempt her, seduce her into the role of victor. As if she needed any help.

  KC finally spared a glance for Layla who stood on the other end of the mat, transfixed. “Naked,” she called to her.

  After several blinks, the other woman focused on her.

  “I want you naked and kneeling in the middle of the ring by the time I’m dressed.”

  She scowled at KC who just smiled, and then gasped as Meghan spit on her ass. Her eyelids fluttered closed as the tips of the dildos touched her holes.

  Oh, so, deliciously slow, Meghan pushed them inside. Then retreated. Push and retreat. A little further each time. They weren’t huge, but stretching her simultaneously made her burn in the most addicting way.

  “It’s like you’re swallowing them, Miss.” Meghan’s voice was shaky but her thrust was steady and sure. Her tongue licked across the top of her thigh. “And you’re so wet.”

  “Take them out. Clean them off. Both of them.” KC waited until Meghan had slid them out. “With your mouth. I want to see you use your mouth.”

  “So. Dirty.” The slave-girl huffed the words out, and then sucked one of the dildos into her mouth. The whole thing. The one that had been in her ass.

  Fuck.

  KC had to concentrate not to come. And that was saying a lot since it normally took a shit-ton to get her off, and it normally involved power tools.

  Meghan licked the other dildo clean and moaned, then spit on the one going in KC’s ass.

  While her slave put the thick cylinder up to her slit, KC tilted her pelvis back, exposing her ass to the arena. “Slow. Slow.”

  Meghan followed directions to a T. And this time, she never pulled them back out. One steady thrust seated both toys inside her. The one in her pussy was curved toward the front, riding her g-spot as she straightened to her full height. Turning to face the middle of the ring, KC watched a naked Layla kneel a few feet away.