The Arena's crowd roared above.
His
match was over.
Down below the girl sobbed, deep gut wrenching tears of mourning, which the Handler had long grown accustomed to. He expected such with the pretty ones. Their value attracted the real killers.
He waved a gold disc down in front of her, activating the gem implanted inside her.
"Follow me," he said.
The girl followed, already much calmer and no longer crying.
"I'm not going to do this," she said. "I'm not going to be his. I'd rather kill myself."
The Handler sighed. He heard it all before. He opened a door to a small bedroom where the transaction would take place. "Wait for him on the bed."
He shut the door with a loud thud.
She sat, unsure what to do with her whole being. Should she run? Should she fashion a weapon and seek vengeance? She certainly shouldn't just sit here and wait.
But she found it hard to focus her eyes and she began to squirm uncomfortably.
A hand snaked between her legs.
What am I doing?
She touched herself, and couldn't pull her hand away.
"Oh," she moaned. Fingers drenched and her eyes hazed over. She writhed on the bed like an animal.
Unable to stop.
The Champion came with a woman hanging off each arm. Both were topless, adorned only with slave jewelry. One looked very pregnant. The skinny one giggled.
He watched the girl furiously masturbating on the bed. "My prize. Looks like you're ready for me."
She looked away, ashamed. But she didn't pause her ministrations.
When she looked back the Champion had undressed, and stood with his dick hanging out.
She moaned, the need to mate unbearable. She hid her blushing face in the bed, but did offer her naked backside to him. Her knees spread, ready to be mounted.
Grabbed her hips, readied himself behind her.
