***
Match Type: Fuck Tank Match (with no disqualifications)
Victory Condition: Forcing the opponent to forfeit the match or rendering them unconscious. There will be a cage at ringside, in which an aphrodisiac-stricken lumberjack will be waiting. When a competitor scores a pinfall or submission, the opponent must go inside the cage, prohibited from resisting the lumberjack, who will be allowed to do as they please until they achieve an orgasm for themselves. After this is done, the opponent will be released.
***
Match Type: Fuck Tank Match (with no disqualifications)
Victory Condition: Forcing the opponent to forfeit the match or rendering them unconscious. There will be a cage at ringside, in which an aphrodisiac-stricken lumberjack will be waiting. When a competitor scores a pinfall or submission, the opponent must go inside the cage, prohibited from resisting the lumberjack, who will be allowed to do as they please until they achieve an orgasm for themselves. After this is done, the opponent will be released.
***
Minutes Before The Match...
was alone in his locker room, doing a few stretches to limber up. A little shadow boxing that had become a habit. His debut would technically be tonight, but when it actually comes down to it, he wasn't counting this. All he'd be doing is sitting in a cage at ringside, waiting to fuck whoever eats a pin or taps out. And that just isn't as much fun. He wanted to be active. He wanted to be in that ring.
If he were doing this for anyone besides Kira Valentine III, he would've minded this a hell of a lot more. Most likely refused outright. But a favor for a favor...And he knows she'll deliver when the time comes. And besides, he'd been told that this drug he's gonna be taking is strong enough for him not to give a shit anyway, after it kicks in.
Ichi's a guy who likes to party, so he was looking forward to seeing what it does besides make him horny. He knows it's gotta be something.
And right on cue, like she was reading off of the script of his life, opened the door and stepped inside. Not a knock or anything to announce her presence before she did it, either. Thick ass syringe in hand, saying not a single word to him. For a second, she just stood there in the doorway, letting just a little of his medicine spray out in a quick test to make sure that thing was working.
The sheer size and make of the balls this woman had on her to just be waltzing right on in on him like this got a chuckle out of him, where somebody else would've gotten an express trip to the emergency room. "It's that time, huh?" He waved her inside as he continued. "Well, come on in and give me the good stuff!"
Kira was already walking in after the wave. She grabbed an arm, gave it a flick to make a vein stand at attention underneath his skin, and injected the substance.
"So how high is this gonna get me?"
"You'll see."
With her business here concluded, the blonde turned to leave.
"Come on, don't leave me hanging like that!" Ichi's tone remained light and irreverent. He certainly didn't mind watching her leave, however. And that put an important thought in his head. Something he needed to bring to her attention. "Hey."
Kira stopped, but didn't turn to face him. Didn't even move her head an inch. So cold!
"If you lose a fall, I'll have to fuck you too. You know that, right?" And he'd do it with zero hesitation, holding nothing back even if he were sober.
"I am aware of the conditions of my own match. Just enjoy the ride when the waves come in, and I'll take care of the rest."
And with that, they both knew where they stood. Kira left to prepare.
Now...
Ichi was not ready for this. He was standing there in that fucking cage, sporting the most aching hard-on he's ever had in his thirty-four years on this earth. It felt like it was threatening to pierce a hole in his shorts, and urged him to reach inside and relieve some of the tension, but Ichi Nakamura does not masturbate. That need is not for a man like him.
But holy hell, were the thoughts never leaving his mind. Why did there have to be so many hot bitches in the front row tonight? There was that he could not take his eyes off of. Pretty face. Silky long hair. He liked a woman with silky hair. Felt nice in his hand when he pulls it. Tight blouse that contoured some big tits. A handful for him. Leather skirt. Nice legs. She was a tiny thing. He could pick her up like a feather. Turn her into a living onahole.
Emilia Morasanu. Yeah, that was her name. She's one of those sisters shooting horror movies here in LAW.
She's a wild one. Really went to town on that one guy -- he forgot his name. Did it while she was dressed up like a nun too. Ichi wished that he'd noticed her before he was locked inside. He could've gotten a good one out, and he would be just fine now.
Her hazel eyes turned to look his way, making contact with his red and receiving an intense stare back. Complete with him walking into the bars, gripping them so tightly, his knuckles turned white. Boner poking out of the cage. It was like he was trying to will her to come on over and join him. It got him the most curious look, like she was sizing him up for something. He didn't know what, but if he gets out. Of. This. Fucking cage. It's going to involve his dick and her holes. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
He kept staring. And staring. Until she finally grew disgusted with him and averted her eyes. Whatever. He kept staring. Fantasizing about all the things he'd do to her.
This match needs to hurry the fuck up and happen so he can do those things to somebody. He didn't really care who.
***
The arena was suddenly shrouded in darkness to coincide with the sounding of Kira's At the fourteen second mark, purple strobe lights would provide some, but not much light, making the place look more like a nightclub as the song stated picking up its pace.
"I wanna feel you..."
"I want it aaaaallll...
"I wanna feel you..."
"I want it aaaaallll...
Truth be told, Kira didn't care much for the Hucci Remix of Meg Myers's "Desire". Too sexy for her taste: It takes too long for the lyrics to start producing the intended feeling, communicating that a match with her would be something quite different from what one would expect with most other women. And even then, it doesn't reach the finish line.
But her nitpicky brain would not allow her to use the original version in Hentai affairs with other women. The lyrics do not fit. But in the Hucci Remix, they do, by the simple omission of one word.
But then again, it's not like she would mind disabusing Ripley of any potential misconceptions. It's fun to watch the shift in demeanor when it becomes clear. And so, she walked out at fifty-eight seconds, ultimately unbothered with her infamous barbed whip in hand. Her risque outfit, curves, and the natural sway of her hips, captivating without effort, drew many an admirative eye and garnered her a substantial amount of vocal support, though surely there were those in the audience who already knew of her and the work she does.
Not that she cared. She was here to amuse herself, and by happenstance, her ally...
"The following contest is a no disqualification Fuck Tank match! After scoring a pinfall or submission, the opponent must enter the cage, where Ichi Nakamura can do as he pleases until he achieves an orgasm, upon which time she will be allowed back into the ring. This will continue until one competitor forfeits the match or is rendered unconscious! And introducing first, standing at six-four and weighing in at one hundred and eighty-three pounds, from London, England...! Kiraaaa Valentiiiine!"
...Who, as she saw when she closed in on the ring, was more taken with her than anyone else in the building, she was sure. Though that was sure to change if anyone got too close. And on that thought...
Kira circled around to the cage, and Ichi immediately started pleading...
"Hey. Do me a favor here, yeah?"
...In his own way, pressing against the bars, letting his rock hard member stick out of the cage. It was an excellent size. Liable to hurt somebody if he doesn't take his time. And he never does.
"If you could give me the old five knuckle shuffle..."
A good idea. Kira Valentine III is a perfectionist. When she acquires a tool, she wants it working at optimal capacity always, for as long as it lasts. And Ichi was no different. She would oblige him, but not exactly in the manner he might have been hoping for, treating him to steady strokes through his trunks, her hand never coming in direct contact with his member. "Oh yeah..." But nonetheless, he started moving his hips, fucking her hand the best he could, grunting his appreciation of her half-hearted ministrations.
She would maintain that pace, changing nothing. No flair. No pizzazz. No passion. Not on her side, at least: Ichi was picking up the pace with every single thrust. That was fine with her. "You've got me burning up inside!" He simply had a destination...
"If just your hand feels this good..."
...And she needed to get him there.
"I wonder how your pussy feels!"
She ignored the comment and kept working, adjusting to his pace until...
...She stopped. Just before the finish line, much to his chagrin.
"What? Hey, wait!"
Kira turned to the ring and climbed the apron, her side objective completed.
"Hey!"
She bent through the ropes. Slowly. Allowing him one last especially tantalizing view of her.
"I'm not done! Hey!"
And it had exactly the reaction she was looking for. "Get back here!" He was desperate for more. And as a man who was used to getting his way, that desperation gave rise to anger. Anger that drove him to kick at the door. To grab it and shake it, trying to force it off its hinges. All to no avail. At this point, he switched to Japanese, which many in this Australian crowd did not speak. But Kira understood every foul word of his frustration-induced tirade.
She set her whip down at a corner and stepped over to the center of the ring. No one could see it, but she was smiling underneath her mask.
