Ianthe vs Ivan - A Fulfilling Mixed Affair

[SeptaX1]

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Match Type: Hentai KO Match

Rules: Knock the opponent out via orgasm(s). Competitors are nude and oiled.

Standard Ring.
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The mixed game of LAW always seemed rather distant to Ianthe. Combat between women often took the forefront. Ianthe did not mind, for she loved a good girl who could whimper. Yet, taming a man into a good moaning boy was also under her purview. Men, women, and the enbies, could be the imperatrix's happy little sinners! It was a true sign of the blonde corporate girlie's generous philanthropic benevolence.

Thus manifested a first taste of LAW's male species and an interesting catch at that. Ianthe's opponent was smaller, it seemed the supply of men on par or bigger than her were surprisingly on the down low.

Nontheless, her foe seemed to carry a valuable record, a career marked with rookie slaying, womb-filling, and senseless domineering. A deft and solidly muscled stud with boned endurance to match, she enjoyed a small challenge. Looking at the match conditions, it was clear that the goal was getting to penetration as quickly as possible.

However, taking time to sensualize and feel good about the body brings out true eroticism. Just as the lucky ring girl applied a layer of essential oil on Ianthe's golden body, she fantasms the tantalizing sensation of human touch. The exploration of how the body feels about something and what brings pleasure leads to true happiness. Sex involves connection, not just that of cock to the cervix, but the matching of hearts or of freak level. All of such in Ianthe's mind, was to say she planned to do much more than receive simple penetration and creampie.

Deep into her own consciousness, the imperatrix sat nonchalantly at her corner of the ring. The sheer size of the blonde posed an intimidation factor, her beefy body lathered down with oil. The lubricant's shine only enhanced the tonedness of Ianthe's powerful figure. A glistened set of delicious abs and bountiful bosom that she was happy to use against her opponent.

She locked into a deep stare into the soul of the red-haired man across from her corner. Standing up to full height, her silk-conditioned tamed golden hair left the ropes. Ianthe walked forward with a ostensive sway to the center. Her body consuming a rush of adrenaline and arousal. The goddess's sex felt the perspiration of moistness as nubs hardened with pleasure. She flexed lightly, yet the power on displayed by her nude and oiled body was already cataclysmic.

Spoiler

[MR. Q]

Ivan in nude

Ivan stares up at Ianthe, his blue eyes wide with disbelief at her sheer size. She towers over his smaller frame, easily a foot taller and twice as broad across the shoulders. For a moment, he just stands there gaping like a fish out of water, unable to process the raw power emanating from her oiled body.

"Too big..." Ivan mutters under his breath. "Too strong. No way..."

As Ianthe strides confidently toward the center of the ring, Ivan remains frozen, his mind reeling. The oily ring girls glide around him, massaging and caressing his toned muscles, preparing him for battle. But Ivan hardly notices their touch, too fixated on the blonde giantess before him.

"Fuck," he mutters, his Filipino accent thick with awe and trepidation. "What have I gotten myself into?"

His cock, already semi-hard from the ring girls' ministrations, begins to soften as he takes in Ianthe's massive form. The oil glistening on her golden skin makes her look slick and dangerous, like a predator ready to pounce.

Ivan's battle-honed instincts tell him this is a bad idea. He's never faced anyone this strong before, never mind this huge. His usual tactics of brute force and iron endurance seem useless against such a colossus.

He sends a panicked glance to Mr. Q, silently pleading for an escape clause. But Mr. Q just smirks knowingly, enjoying Ivan's discomfort. There will be no backing out now.

Ivan takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He knows he can't win this fight on strength alone. He needs to use his wits, his technique... and maybe, just maybe, Ianthe's own momentum against her.

He's gonna die isn't he?

Definitely.

"Yo cuz, get the ambulance ready. Hahahaha." Mr.Q said in a call.

[SeptaX1]

Ianthe lived and thrived off the fear. Her analytical stare into Ivan met evident fright, whether the frantic glances, or voluntary breathing. A predatory gaze characterized Ianthe's look across her facial features. The long bangs of her hair added a sharpness to the imperatrix's distinct malevolent stare. She was full of cocksure thought and bravado. A regal arrogance and demeaning leer posed to bring down any foe in the first step of mentally breaking them. All such was part of the vixen's lewd and intimate fun.

Naturally, Ianthe's mind was also deeply set on the prize. Only slightly lower than his abs was Ivan's third leg, merely in a limp state that was characteristic of an anxious guy having their first time. She lackdaiscally teased his impotence.

"You seem not too excited to be here hm? I sense your nerves, let's change that shall we?~"

Ianthe maintained the passionate stare at the shorter opponent while her form etched closer and closer. Her divine chest docked on the upper torso, near the red-haired man's collarbone due to their height difference. A lick of the lips as she cozied her breasts onto Ivan's erecting nipples and pectorals. Enhanced by the smooth sensation of the oil, massaging her new interest's firm pecs acted to rouse endorphin pleasure. A wave of libido washed over Ianthe, taking the liberty to feel up Ivan's figure. The muscled goddess ran a hand along the crevices of his steeled abs that were going to be the foe, or rather plaything, of her proud iron core.

Despite his impressive muscle training, Ianthe's arms simply dwarfed Ivan's in size and visible power. Now up close, he had an intimate view of the imperatrix's corded and incredibly dense muscle packed into the biceps. In fact, she had not even properly flexed still.

The benevolent imperatrix then invited the unfortunate foe to feel up her angelic form. She guided his hand to cup the underside of her chest and run along the bumps of her marbled abs. All off course, was to let the opponent know, who they were going to be dealing with.

"We're going to have some fun hmhm.~ I'm sure you're going to satisfy me aren't you?"

Ianthe moved away to end the first act of foreplay and prepare for the match's commencement.

[MR. Q]

Ivan shudders as Ianthe's oiled breasts brush against his chest, his nipples stiffening at the divine sensation. Her touch ignites a fire in his loins despite his primal fear. He gasps as her powerful hands explore his physique, marveling at the firmness of her muscles beneath the slick surface.

Ivan's mind reels as he tries to process the insane proposition. Him, satisfy HER? It seems impossible. But the needy look in her eyes, the enticing sway of her hips... it awakens something deep within him.

Gritting his teeth, Ivan pushes down his fear and channels his inner beast. He locks eyes with Ianthe, a newfound fire burning in his blue irises.

"You want satisfaction?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll give you satisfaction."

Ivan steps forward, his cock rising to full mast as he stares down Ianthe with renewed determination. No matter how big she is, no matter how intimidating... he WILL find a way to break her.

Ivan nods curtly to Ianthe, signaling he's ready. Whatever comes next, whatever moves she throws at him... he'll meet it head on.

Meanwhile, Hermes is putting his stuff in auction to the dorm housemates. They're not expecting him to go home alive.

His entire wardrobe was sold to Brynhildr for $100,000 alone. No one asked where she got the money.

[SeptaX1]

Oh? How interesting... Ianthe maintained the natural haughty and demeaning gaze. The opponent took her rouses in stride and decided take the challenge head-on. The fire shined bright in Ivan's appearance much like his flame-colored hair, staring death in the eye with a newfound confidence. How brave, Ianthe thought, and it seemed the man's cock was more eager than ever. Such was natural, and what sinful thoughts must be populating his mind. Certainly exhilirating was the idea of an all-powerful goddess being reduced to mere fuckflesh, her demise crafted by his bare hands and dick. She could imagine the man's desires, whether an insatiable yearning for control or the things he'd want to do to her. The imperatrix felt plenty the same all the time.

Yet, how far did his confidence reach? She smirked. Ianthe always loves the scenario of a riled up opponent, high on their own ego being turned down a peg or two. Having high hopes and dreams only be crushed into dust. The vixen was eager to put Ivan to the test. How far could he really go?

The boulder of a woman walked up to Ivan with methodically timed steps, the sway remaining in her hips and shapely thighs. Muscle mass gave the English amazon an inescapable appearance, far too big to run anywhere. Such was like shooing off a bear by making onself appear bigger, but Ianthe was plenty huge and appeared to be the bear in this situation. But instead of the fiery start off to the match with kicks and blows that Ivan may have been used to, Ianthe was different.

Their foreplay entered a new phase, one that would be turning up the heat in frisk. She stopped and stood completely still in front of Ivan. The woman was static for what must have felt like an eternity given the expected fast pace at a fight start. Instead she remained stalwart, essentially aura-farming in the middle of a competitive match. The crowd stared in confusion and intent, unsure of the antics the curious imperatrix was up to this time.

That was until she slightly bent over, her head now got right up in Ivan's face. The goddess's beautiful irises once again stared deep into his perhaps unsettled gaze. She analyzed, examining his defined jaw and deepl blue eyes while not expressing a word.

Then, Ianthe stood back up to natural height, and her hands moved onto him. Lulling his oiled skin with the sense of touch, she gently pushed a palm over his pecs. A set of of fingers would lightly tease Ivan's erected nipple. Another hand massaged his meaty left arm, running up and down and quietly probing the wrist. From the chest, she then pulled his hand towards her own crotch. She spoke, letting out a tease.

"You're excited. You want this hm? I know I'm going to love dealing with youu~"

Ianthe nudged her juicy oil-lathered cleavage right into the side of his body, scrubbing and nuzzling the stud's form. All the while, now the aphrodite begun stroking his third leg, indicating a challenge of mutual masturbation. She mewled a provocative question and cooed in her deeply posh accent.

"Think you can defeat me, Ivan?~"

[MR. Q]

Ivan's breath hitches as Ianthe's fingers dance across his sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. Her oiled breasts slide against his skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. When she guides his hand to her slick folds, he can feel the evidence of her arousal coating his palm.

"Yes," Ivan grunts, his voice rough with both lust and defiance. "I can defeat you."

In one swift motion, he grabs a fistful of Ianthe's golden hair and yanks her head down, locking her against his ribcage. His oiled muscles glisten as he tightens his grip, pinning the giantess in place.

"Let's find out," Ivan challenges with a grin.

His outmatched alright. He knows that but doesn't mean his chances are zero. The match might be in Hentai rules but it's still a fight.

And fighting is what he does best.

Using the momentary distraction, he takes off running, dragging Ianthe into a Running Bulldog as he attempts to slam her face first into the mat.

[SeptaX1]

Perhaps in rather unorthodox judgement, Ianthe had prepared her sweet nothings at the wrong time. Near the beginning, against such an untamed fellow, a slow start was too foreign to the mind. This introduction to the mixed setting was off to a rather questionable start. Now the imperatrix was rather inconvenienced with her hair currently being yanked uncouthly by a newfound annoyance of a pest. It seemed this small piece of meat will need some work, more "training."

To ruin a perfectly euphoric moment was bereft of the art of sex. A moment of irritation tinged, the hair pull was not even enjoyable! It seemed this boy did not understand the joys of erotic human touch much like a stupid American unable to understand the good of having their own worker benefits. "Discipline" was in tall order.

Timing was of the essence in this situation. If it wasn't evident already, the result would soon display the disparities in their raw power. As soon as Ivan's feet left the ground, Ianthe would be keeping well planted on the canvas by pulling back her entire body in-sync against his momentum. At the same time, she'd quickly anchor her arms to collect the meat of his shapely hips while he's in the air. A running bull to faceplant Ianthe would be turned into a quick backbreaker, Ivan hunked over the muscled goddess's arms right before being hurled over facedown and cockdown onto the mat with extra force out of irritation. She taunted while waiting for him to get up, that is, if he could. She spoke not in a soft and mewling lewd voice, but an authoritative mannered—lewd voice.

"I would've been nicer with the throw. However, it seems you'll be in the need of extra roughing up. Then. Perhaps we'll try this again."

[MR. Q]

Ivan's eyes bulge out as Ianthe effortlessly flips his momentum, using his own impetus against him. One minute he's running at full speed, the next he's being hurled through the air like a rag doll, his back screaming in protest as it bends in ways it wasn't meant to.

Ivan hits the mat hard, all the wind knocked out of him. He lies there wheezing, gasping for air, his muscles twitching from the sudden exertion and pain. Ianthe looms over him, looking down with a mixture of irritation and hunger in her eyes.

"Hnnnnnngggg..." A muffled wheeze escaped his lips.

Somebody better call the police on the truck that ran him over!

Ivan grits his teeth, pushing himself off the mat. His body screams in protest, but he ignores the pain, fuelled by sheer determination. He slowly rises to his knees, feigning weakness as he gasps for air.

Just as she finishes her sentence, Ivan explodes into action. With a burst of speed, he surges forward and unleashes a sucker punch directly to Ianthe's jaw from below.

[SeptaX1]

It's been a while since any match Ianthe played in had such intensity from the get-go. The natural regimen of things were much different this time around and her opponent looked capable of taking the pain given he was now about to unload a his cocked fist right into her jaw.

With a quick alertness, Ianthe's head maneuvered away from the punch. Instead, the imperatrix grabbed Ivan's striking arm by the wrist, pulling the redhead in for another session of body breaking. The man's iron form would meet a ruthless clain of knee strikes right into his abdomen. Each aiming to slowly break down the man's core while putting him out of commission.

"You're going to need more than pure instincts to dance with your goddess, boy.~"

The sly Englishwoman cooed before anchoring her other arm around the back of Ivan's neck. Her legs would quickly snap on the back of his firm Filipino calves, using their natural weight differences to simply bring both down to the mat for a guillotine choke.

"I'm going to be teaching proper manners today. You'll be learning how to properly respect and please a real woman. I'm going to love riding you into oblivion.~"

The hot and delicious aphrodite was making a mere example of her prey. The two hardened and oiled forms were locked in a clash of body-to-body dominance. Whose muscles could outlast the other, an important skirmish in the war over who was ultimately superior to the other. A deep ecstasy overflowed as she felt her rock-hard abs dig into Ivan's, squishing and eager to feel them softened. Her heart rate intensified, blood rushing, and loins salivated with precum. Ianthe's pussy sat in close proximity, feeling the hardness of the man's rock-hard shaft. Unholy thoughts ran wild; milking him dry and perhaps how good it must be to take it.

All the while, she maintained a knowing gaze down his muscled back and ass, a salcious look of devious lust.

[MR. Q]

Ivan gasps as Ianthe's knee slams into his abdomen, again and again, driving the air from his lungs. His muscles clench reflexively, trying to protect his core, but the blows are relentless.

"Unnngh! F-fuck..." Ivan grunts, his voice strained with pain and exertion.

As she locks the guillotine choke around his neck, Ivan's vision starts to swim. Black spots dance in front of his eyes as the blood flow is cut off. Desperately, he tries to claw at her arms, to break free, but her grip is ironclad.

In a desperate bid for freedom, Ivan reaches back blindly, his fingers scrabbling for purchase. By sheer luck, he manages to hook his hands behind Ianthe's knees. Using the last of his strength, he throws himself backwards, pulling her legs out from under her as he threw his weight back blindly to unbalance her.