She was protected by a phalanx of supporters but still a cup of red liquid managed to hit Zoe on the head. That was counterproductive because it only sharpened her fury. The people of Eden might be smart but that still did not prevent them from doing something stupid with overexcitement. She was ushered into the change rooms where she would be given a quick medical check and tested for performance enhancers along with her opponent. This was when the adrenalin really kicked in and her instincts told her to attack him now, while they were distracted. They were kept apart at either end of the room but it was also a time they could try to psych each other out. She caught his eye once and he leered. She decided the best strategy was to stay calm, instead focusing on the screen showing a junior bout between two girls she had not seen before, both bird-eyes from the north. She was impressed with the fast, flowing style of the one with the yellow eyes (very likely a student of Nkechi, who had moved north to teach). It didn’t take too much longer for her to triumph. The other one was tiring and losing focus. She failed to block a sidekick to the ribs and reeled. This allowed yellow eyes to grab at her leg and flip her onto her back. It was all over when she pinned her victim and delivered a left/right combination to her head, knocking her senseless so that the referee was forced to intervene and declare yellow eyes the winner. This sent a thrill of blood lust through Biyu and sharpened her senses even more. She was well aware it set a standard she had to best, lest yellow eyes steal the night – especially given that yellow eyes was now helping her opponent up and giving her a reassuring hug, thus showing respect and compassion and winning the crowd (who were on their feet cheering).
This was now the most difficult part. The twenty-minute break to allow the crowd to relieve themselves, fetch refreshments or stretch their legs. She closed her eyes and visualised her opponent, recalling his style and every muscle twitch. She breathed steadily, fully oxygenating her blood so that when she entered the ring she had all the energy she needed.
The time passed quickly. She was directed into the stadium and onto the fighting mat. She looked around her as the crowd roared and jeered; she found Zoe sitting in the front with brightly dressed dignitaries and officials. She smiled at Zoe and then raised her hands to the crowd, who roared in approval. Overhead drone cameras hovered and circled, capturing every angle.
Her opponent came out and the crowd erupted again, but this time the sound was different because it contained laughter and crude comments. She understood why when he turned because he was fully erect and proportionally well endowed. He looked like an Adonis. She tried not to react. Clearly it was an example of crude showmanship designed to entertain the crowd and distract her. It was well understood that these matches were a mixture of skilled aggression and eroticism. Their bodies were on full display. It was meant to be a celebration of human embodiment, of the beauty and sensuality of perfected bodies. It had inspired her when she was young and she had been infatuated with several fighters, male and female, she had examined every pore and muscle; imagined fucking each one. Clearly he understood this and had taken it to the next logical step with a frank display of his potency, primarily for the benefit of the audience. Her one regret was that a deliberate blow to the genitals was illegal for obvious reasons. But if that thing got in the way accidentally, too bad, she wouldn’t hesitate.
The rules were simple: no fatal blows to the most vulnerable parts of the body (throat, spine, heart), no blows to testicles, no wrestling or clutching, and an immediate cessation on the referees signal. There were no bouts, no time out. The match went as long as they were both standing. It was over when there was a knockout, capitulation or the referee made a declaration out of concern for the well being of one of the fighters.
It began with a ritual display of their speed, flexibility and gymnastic skills. They flipped, vaulted, twisted and kicked in floor routines that combined wushu and classical gymnastics. She had been practicing a new sequence and completed it flawlessly to the delight of the crowd: a triple somersault with a triple twist landing in full splits. It was not something he could match and she hoped it might dent his arrogance.
When that was over silence descended on the crowd. They bowed and the referee signalled. She wanted to rush him and wipe that smile off his face but she had to stick to her strategy. He attacked first with a surprise butterfly kick. She dodged it easily. They circled each other and he attacked again with a flurry of punches. She blocked each one and dropped, swinging her leg out to try and trip him. He jumped and attempted another butterfly kick. She rolled and managed to connect with a punch to his kidney.
It continued in a stalemate for five minutes. The crowd was getting restless, demanding something dramatic or brilliant. She was watching him carefully, looking for the signs of tiredness or restlessness that might lead him to a rash decision. She decided to feign a mistake and allow him an opening. She noticed him hesitate, momentarily suspicious, but he could not resist the opportunity and let fly with a rapid punch and kick sequence. She blocked it all but fell back a few steps. He attacked again, trying to punch faster and harder in order to land a blow. Again she fell back, the crowd roaring and booing at her apparent weakness. She rallied a response and pushed hard, flipping over his head and causing him to spin, where a punch to his stomach awaited him. He reeled back but again took the initiative, incorrectly sensing she was on the defensive. As he attacked she noticed his face was getting flushed from the strain. He was getting tired. Now was the time to draw him in. She saw a micro twitch in his left hand, the signal he was going to attempt a full power punch. He came at her with a kick and a right jab. Everything now depended on her judgment and reflexes. She allowed herself to stagger just a little. He saw his opportunity and she readied herself. It all happened in microseconds. He let fly with his left at full force, giving a bloodcurdling cry as he did so. She let it connect, turning just at the last moment to avoid the full impact. It still hurt and she staggered back. The crowd roared and booed as she put her arms up in defence and he pressed his advantage. She made an attempt to rally and he was forced into defensive moves. It was then she saw his eyes drop for just a fraction of a second, as if he was unsure of his footing, the signal that he was definitely flagging. She could have attacked but it was not the time. She hesitated and he attacked again, knowing that he needed to finish this soon. Again she allowed him to connect: a sidekick to her ribs and another left to her face. She reeled. That one really hurt. The crowd grew silent. They sensed the unexpected. Her defeat.
She looked at him carefully. It was there: the slight curl of the lips, the smirk. She had him. His arrogance would force mistakes. His left hand twitched. He was going for the knockout punch, the same punch that broke his last opponent’s jaw. But what he did not know was that she had watched the sequence over and over and had seen the weakness. When he prepared for the hit he leant forward on one foot, leaving a microsecond opportunity for her to unbalance him. He came at her again. This time she took the blows in order to position him to her liking. He smiled arrogantly and let fly, but she was too quick. She dropped, kicked at his weak leg and unbalanced him. She knew he would recover quickly so she had to put all her skill into the next sequence, a lightning fast double roundhouse kick. It worked. He was taken by surprise, the first kick connecting hard with the side of his head. He hesitated, dazed, his ear ringing. This allowed her to place the next kick with absolute precision. Normally she would have pulled back and aimed higher but he had to learn a lesson: if he wanted to play a hard game he had to be prepared to get it in return. As she reached the peak of the kick she adjusted her foot so that the hard ball of her heel found the exact point his mandible connected to his zygomatic bone. This would break his jaw and shatter his cheek. She could feel it break and dislodge as she followed the kick through with a snap into full extension. The blow lifted him off his feet and flat onto his back. The match was over and the crowd roared and stamped its feet. She had never heard such a commotion.
She looked down at him. Her
reaction was contradictory because she was both sickened by what she had very deliberately chosen to do and elated that she had had such a comprehensive victory. Her next move was spontaneous. Despite the fact he was bleeding and there was a splatter pattern on the mat, she bent down over him and flicked his now shrunken penis and looked up at the cameras, pulling a mock sad face, thus indicating that she had robbed him of his potency and arrogance. It was an act of humiliation and the crowd loved it. There would be no recourse for him now but to retire. It was not a gracious gesture but it was part of the narrative that he had chosen – the only option for the bad gladiator was either complete triumph or complete defeat. There was no middle path. The crowd demanded cathartic revenge and she had delivered it.
She was hoisted onto people’s shoulders and carried around the mat, the crowd going wild with excitement. Everyone was on an adrenalin high and there was only one way the night would end for many. They would hit the clubs and bars, recount the night’s events and carry the rush through to a night of dancing and fucking. Only the essential services would be expected to turn up to perform their duties the next day.
She was in a daze as they went through the award ceremony, with the sports minister awarding her the trophy. She shook hands with officials and honourable elders and was drowned in a wave of congratulations. The sight of justice Carabajal smiling at her focused her attention immediately. She knew she would have just a few days to soak up the adulation. She looked around for Zoe. She found her, her face wet with tears of pride and relief. She was standing next to the runner she had picked up in the park, Kat. She had forgotten about that and didn’t know if she could cope with a threesome that night. Maybe she would recover but all she wanted to do now was rest. Zoe pushed through to hug her, Kat tagging along behind beaming. It was when Zoe clasped her tight that she felt the pain in her ribs and then her face. She knew that she would have bruises and a black eye. Zoe kissed her and she sagged in her arms and cried tears of happiness and relief. She felt another set of arms as Kat joined in to lift her. She expected Zoe to object but clearly she had consented to her presence and might even be looking forward to the night. She surrendered and allowed herself to be gently guided out of the auditorium as hands reached out to touch their hero.
42
Cynthia
The excitement in the camp was palpable. The officers had allowed a night (and the following morning) off to watch the championship bout between Zhang Biyu and Simon ‘The Tank’ Fallaci and the mess had been converted into an auditorium with a large screen. Beer, wine and stimulants had been permitted in limited quantities (controlled by each person’s guardian) and everyone was clear the night would likely end with adrenalin fuelled multiple sexual liaisons.
She was ambivalent about it. In one way she was looking forward to getting fucked silly, but over the last few days she had been thinking of Aris almost obsessively. It was clear she had fallen for him, that they had a deep genetic compatibility and she had become addicted to his oxytocin filled pheromones. One of the boys had teased her that she was in love and that her cunt was hungry for the taste of Aris’s cock. She supposed it was true. She had certainly been masturbating to various scenarios involving Aris. One of the girls, Olivia, suggested that all she needed was a night of sexual abandon to free her addiction, hugging her and suggesting that together they would try and fuck as many boys as physically possible.
The night was humid with moist air being sucked from the ocean toward a low-pressure zone over the mountains. This usually meant rain, heavy rain. Her skin was already damp from sweat as she queued for her first ale and found a place to stand. Olivia sidled up beside her and was clearly already geared up for a night of pleasure, enthusiastically pointing out some of the boys she was going to target later on and loudly and crudely commenting on their attributes.
Her ears were ringing with the jeers and cheers as the opening junior match reached its climax. There was a crush of bodies as naked defenders fetched more beer or went outside to piss in the bushes, the women standing beside the men and competing in raucous pissing competitions.
There was a rush when the championship bout was announced and stragglers hurriedly pushed their way back to their positions. If her ears were already ringing, they were shattered by the whoops, laughter and wolf whistles as Fallaci was introduced and he turned to reveal his full erection. Olivia (along with many of the women) yelled out her crude appreciation of his manhood. She had to admit that she was impressed. He wasn’t as big as Aris but he was a very pretty boy and his cock had a very pleasing curve.
There was another roar as Zhang was introduced. She had heard of her but couldn’t recall seeing her image (although she was so well known she must have). She looked small compared to Fallaci, and younger because of her delayed puberty. Cynthia thought she looked surprisingly pretty, her body a tight mass of perfectly toned muscle. She was in awe as Zhang demonstrated her skills and she whooped and clapped when she performed a triple somersault and twist landing in a full split.
“Tank is going to trash her,” shouted Olivia clearly signalling who she was barracking for.
Although they looked physically mismatched Cynthia reasoned that Zhang was the champion for a reason.
The roar became even louder when the match began. Each sequence and connect bought cheers and boos. She couldn’t help but get carried along and she felt sick when it appeared Zhang was losing. When she took a hard blow to her ribs and then her head it looked like it was over.
But then, impossibly, Zhang recovered. The final sequence stunned the crowd into shocked silence as Zhang completed a double round house, knocking Fallaci flat. This was broken by shocked and riotous laughter as Zhang bent over Fallaci and triumphantly flicked his now limp cock. The vid then went into slomo reply showing the final shattering blow in hi-def detail. The sight of his jaw dislodging and blood and tooth flying out of his mouth was gut wrenchingly shocking, yet it still excited a strange visceral blood lust. She knew that she was sexually excited and also repulsed. Theoretically she knew exactly what was going on. She had just witnessed a carefully orchestrated contest designed to arouse and purge those parts of the brain that had evolved to hunt and fight. The blood lust was a deep instinct that like sexual desire could not be repressed without negative consequences. When it was frustrated the violent impulse could be expressed in anti-social ways. This was the reason for the Roman games and the mass spectator sports of the modern era, the reason that gladiators and sporting heroes were objects of desire. It was folly to deny that she had been aroused. The point was to be conscious of it and not let these natural, instinctive responses cloud her reason.
The crowd began to disperse after the replays and during the award ceremony. Olivia dragged her outside to find men. There were already people fucking or playfully re-enacting their favourite sequences, despite the light rain beginning to fall. Most of the men and boys were proudly fully erect and searching for action. Olivia dragged her to a mixed sex group that she knew and they ran to one of the dorm huts as the cloud broke with torrential rain. They were soaked as they ran inside, squealing and yelling excitedly. She didn’t remember much after that. Stimulants and bodies were shared and she participated willingly, losing track of who was kissing, fondling or penetrating her, male or female.
She staggered back to her own bunk early in the morning sexually satiated but emotionally unsatisfied. She missed Aris and would have traded everything to have had spent the night with him.
43
Prax
Prax watched the match in an auditorium with the other officers and some of the supporting staff, including Vera and Tojo Shimazu, Torv and the three girls. He appreciated the display of martial and athletic skill but found it difficult to engage with it emotionally. Perhaps it was the display of stoicism by the strategos that were present or the fact that Torv kept whispering technical asides to the girls during the match.
The finale became an anticlimax when Torv announced that Zhang B
iyu had used a very clever gambit to exploit her opponent’s weakness, using the slo mo replay to point out certain visual cues to the triplets.
“But you could beat her, couldn’t you?” asked one of the girls.
“Don’t know, maybe in swordplay but not in hand to hand. She’s very skilled and very quick.”
Vera Shimazu had overheard the conversation and walked over. “You may very well have an opportunity to find out.” All the eyes in the room turned toward her and she used the moment to perfection. “I had wanted to wait until now to announce this, although it might have been awkward if Biyu had lost… Mind you, not that I had any doubt. In any case, Biyu will be joining us in a few days.” The girls’ faces broke into broad smiles and their skin changed colour with excitement. “Yes, that’s right,” she added, acknowledging the surprised looks. “She’ll be joining the diplomatic mission to Earth, but that’s as much as I am prepared to divulge,” she said nodding toward Prax indicating that he would be fully informed in due course. “There will also be some other arrivals too. We are steadily building a comprehensive defence force so may I propose a toast to the new champion and new member of the EDF.”
The room broke into polite applause as the strategos motioned for Prax and Torv to follow her into a quiet corner. “This is for your ears only,” she said softly. “Biyu will be head of security for the mission. Torv, you will work closely with her to bring her up to full speed with weapons training. She will come in with the rank of magnus.” She turned toward Torv. “In which case I consider it appropriate to promote you Torv, you’ve excelled and I want you to take on more responsibility in general. As we expand we will need more people with your commitment and skills.”
“Well, congratulations magnus Torv,” said Prax giving her a light-hearted salute.
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