Superstar Squash Women

Dorona: We meet near the basement entrance and head down the stairs; I open the door, and we step inside. I pull the heavy, creaky steel door shut behind us and lock it. I toss the key into a pile of miscellaneous junk in the corner, so no one can find it in a hurry. The basement is dimly lit and very quiet. A massive mat lies in the center of the room, while exercise machines, barbells, and dumbbells are arranged along the walls, and punching bags hang from above. "This basement gym is temporarily closed—no one’s been here for a long time, except for me. Come on, I’ll show you the changing room," I say curtly, gesturing toward where we need to go, all the while making sure not to turn my back on you—just in case.

Mila_Mayhem: "Hi Dorona, have you been waiting long, or did you think I'd back out... you were wrong." I greet you with a grin, putting on a brave and confident front. I followed your last fight closely, and you lost miserably to a much smaller opponent. Maybe today I'll end my losing streak—even if it's just a friendly match, a victory can still motivate me. I follow you down to the basement, a little puzzled as to where you’re leading me. “Where are we going? No one’s been down here in ages—I thought we were going to the gym?” Oh well, whatever—if I start acting like a brat now, she’ll just think I’m scared. You show me the locker room—also deserted and dirty. I wonder if at least the showers work. I look at you a little suspiciously now—what is she up to? But you’re tight-lipped and curt. I turn away from you, set down my gym bag, and start getting changed.

Dorona: I’m glad you finally showed up—I’ve been wanting to beat you down and bring you to heel for a long time, so you’ll stop seeing me as nothing more than an easy target for your mockery and kicks in the backside. I want to show you my dark side—the one that strikes fear into every opponent I’ve defeated. Lately, this urge has only grown, especially after my humiliating loss to little Sweetie Mel. I need to restore my self-respect by taking down someone roughly my own size. Fighting girls who are as small as I am—or even smaller—is always a risky business for my reputation; it’s a real challenge, because if I lose, I can’t exactly claim my opponent had a weight advantage. That’s just one more reason for this fight. With a focused expression, I begin to change my clothes. "The showers here work, don't worry." I can see that the atmosphere of this basement is weighing on you—good. I want to see fear in your eyes from the very start. I pull my hair back into a ponytail and look you over with a mocking, hostile glare.

 Mila_Mayhem: The basement, this changing room—everything down here just feels oppressive to me. The fact that the two of us are completely alone here isn’t exactly helping me feel any calmer right now. What if she suddenly puts on a mask like Michael Myers and comes at me with a butcher’s knife? My body would never be found here anyway. I chuckle quietly at the thought, but I could definitely see her doing it. I steal a glance over at you; your face is focused, almost grim, impassive—I have no idea what’s going on in your head. Slowly, I take off my clothes and put on a pink bikini, my long, blonde hair tied into two braids as always. I look over at you again, and our eyes meet for a brief moment. The coldness in your eyes startles me, making me flinch briefly; a shiver runs down my spine. Maybe it was a mistake to come here, but it’s too late to turn back now. “Okay, Dorona, if you’re ready too, let’s get going—where do we need to go?”

 Dorona: I finish changing as well, remaining in a blue bikini, barefoot. "Over there!" I say, pointing to a large blue mat lying in the center of the fitness studio. We step onto the mat and stand facing each other. Putting on an even sterner expression, I begin my warm-up, scrutinizing you from head to toe. You weigh one kilogram more than I do—and ten kilograms more than that wretched little thing, Sweetie Mel. You’re slightly shorter than me, but your shoulders are a bit broader, and your biceps have more volume. You have an athletic build, and I can say with certainty that you’re at least as physically strong as I am—perhaps even stronger. You told me earlier that you’ve never won a single fight, which might lead me to believe you’ll be easy prey. But what if you’re lying—trying to make me relax and lower my guard by convincing me you’re an easy opponent—only to catch me off guard with a sudden, devastating blow that leaves me waking up as a loser? I beat you easily back at the club, but maybe you just lacked the motivation to fight for real then? No, I won’t underestimate you; I’m going to fight you just as I would, say, Lara.

 Dorona:

 Mila_Mayhem: We step onto the mat together and take our places facing each other. I start stretching—my neck, shoulders, arms, and legs—trying to loosen up a bit and let go of my tension. As I do, I notice how your eyes are scanning me, almost like a predator fixating on its prey with the confidence of victory. I’m still unsure why we’re meeting right here in such seclusion and not up at the gym, where there are plenty of opportunities for a sparring match. My suspicion just won’t go away, but you don’t let on; you seem completely normal now. If it weren’t for that cold, almost hate-filled gaze, I’d be more relaxed, but maybe I’m just imagining it. “Is there anything else to clear up, Dorona? Do you have any requests? Is there anything I should keep in mind? Then say it now—you might not be able to speak again soon,” I say, trying to impress you with my cocky talk. “If not, then let’s get started.” Slowly, I walk to the center of the mat, crack my knuckles, raise my arms, and wait for you.

 Mila_Mayhem:

Dorona: "Requests?" I ask with a smirk. "Oh, right—I meant to ask: have you drawn up your last will and testament before the fight?" I study the expressions crossing your face, then, looking you sternly in the eye, I add, "Don't worry, I’m just kidding. You’ll make it out of this basement alive... probably. You’re not some stubborn bitch like that Japanese woman I had to... well, never mind, let’s not dwell on the unpleasant stuff. You’re such a weak, pathetic creature—you’d hardly dare to test my patience, so you’ve got nothing to worry about." I can see you shifting uncomfortably, shrinking into yourself—exactly what I wanted. Turning a dangerous opponent into a cowering victim before the fight even begins—that’s half the battle won. I finish my warm-up, flex my biceps in a menacing display (never mind that they’re smaller than yours), drop into a boxing stance, and say, "Well, are you ready? Let’s begin!"

 Mila_Mayhem: My plan to impress you when I asked about your preferences backfired completely. You just grin—of course you know my track record, and you’ve seen me in minor brawls at the club before, so you know exactly what to expect from me. Then you start talking at me—all I hear is… “Testament”… “Japanese woman”… “left alive”… “pathetic creature”… My knees start to shake, my mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. If your goal was to scare me, you’ve succeeded. Oh God, what’s she up to? She doesn’t really want to hurt me, does she? We’ve argued quite a bit, but it wasn’t really that bad. You look at me mockingly, giving no hint as to whether you were just joking or were serious. Then you raise your arms, standing right in front of me now, your gaze cold again… ice-cold… Slowly, I start circling you, looking for a spot that’s open for an attack. Then I swing my right leg up and try to land a sidekick against your ribs. Next, I try a right jab to your head, and if that all works, a right uppercut under your left breast.

Dorona: As we close the distance, you launch an immediate attack. I shield my ribs from your kick with my left elbow and barely manage to dodge your right fist—though it still grazes my left cheek. I spring backward, just in time to deflect your uppercut with my right forearm. A barrage of blows this rapid, right at the start of a fight—that’s something you’d rarely see, even from a top-tier superstar. It was a good call on my part to treat you as a dangerous opponent and stay on high alert; otherwise, I might already be knocked out from that right-hand punch, with you sitting on top of me, raining down blows on my unconscious body. My cheek is throbbing now. Not waiting for you to unleash another flurry, I go on the offensive myself. I lunge toward you, throwing a left jab aimed at your chin, and immediately follow up with a straight right aimed at your solar plexus.

 Mila_Mayhem: I immediately try my luck with a quick attack, kicking and punching at you in the hope of landing a hit and weakening you. But you block my sidekick with your elbow, my jab only grazes your face, and my uppercut also misses its mark. Now that’s what I call a great start—really impressive, I curse inwardly. I take a step back to increase the distance between us again, raise my arms defensively, and circle around you once more. But now you attack, throwing a left jab at my chin; I lean my upper body far back so your fist doesn’t reach me. I only feel a rush of air, not the punch itself, but in doing so I also expose my stomach to you a little, which you immediately take advantage of and land a right straight punch to my upper abdomen, the solar plexus. “Ahhhrr…” I groan, double over, and for a moment everything goes black before my eyes; a fountain of saliva sprays from my mouth, and I almost go down. Clutching my stomach, I stagger back, fighting a rising wave of nausea. Damn it, that bitch got me right at the start—where does she even get the strength to hit that hard? With a pain-contorted face, I look up; my legs feel a little wobbly, but I stay on my feet. I keep backing away and try to regain my composure quickly.

 Dorona: I try to land a jab, but you lean back with lightning speed, and my fist misses. My right hand, however, finds its mark, slamming into your solar plexus. I grin maliciously as you double over and stagger back, your face twisted in pain. I need to finish you off right now, before you can recover—a chance like this might not come again! No mercy for you! Those who are too kind or compassionate in a fight usually end up half-dead themselves, writhing in agony at the victor’s feet. I close the distance, grab you by the hair, and yank you toward me. I pull back my right knee; I know an experienced fighter would instinctively shield her face and upper chest, so I aim lower—striking your lower chest or stomach. "How do you like that, you bitch?"

 Mila_Mayhem: I keep backing away more and more to find a moment to catch my breath, but you won’t let me. You immediately follow up, attacking me again. I hold my arms out defensively toward you, but with a nasty grin on your face, you push them aside, grab my hair, and yank me toward you. I scream out loud as you push me down and ram your knee into my stomach again. “Urrggg....” I whimper and sink to my knees. My stomach cramps; my mouth fills with saliva again—I almost throw up, that’s how sick your brutal knee strike makes me feel. It feels as if my intestines are rearranging themselves, and a violent struggle for their place inside me spreads through my body. “Let go of my hair, you ugly bitch,” I howl, kneeling in front of you and trying to drive my right fist up between your legs from below.

 Dorona: My knee strike forces you to your knees, your face twisted, drool clinging to your lip. But before I can wind up for another blow, your fist—which is quite large relative to my own frame—slams into my crotch, sending a jolt like an electric shock through my groin. I love delivering this kind of strike, but I absolutely hate receiving it. I groan, my face contorting in agony; doubling over, I clutch my crotch and begin to back away from you, trying to compose myself. Right now, all I want to do is collapse onto the mat, curl up into a ball, and lie there until the pain subsides. But I can’t afford that—if you recover before I do, I’ll be the one left lying on this mat. "You dirty bitch!" I hiss through gritted teeth.

 Mila_Mayhem: My blow hits you right between your legs, forcing you to let go of me. Groaning, you release my hair, step back, your hands pressed tightly against your crotch. “How does that feel, slut? Isn’t it nice to have something between your legs again—and I don’t mean your own hands,” I growl at you angrily, even though I’m still struggling with my own pain. But at least I’ve hurt you now, too—after all, I’m not your toy, your punching bag, or one of those slaves you supposedly have. “Just you wait, Doro—things are about to really heat up here. I’m going to kick your ass just like I’ve done so many times at the club.” Crawling on all fours, I move a little further away from you and then try to stand up.

 Dorona: I move further away from you, standing hunched over on trembling, buckling legs, trying to soothe the pain in my pussy by stroking it with my palms. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch you; when you scramble to your feet, shouting threats at me, I realize that—even though I haven’t fully recovered—I need to straighten up. I shift into a boxing stance and slowly start moving toward you, pushing through the pain that shoots through my pussy with every step. I’m desperate to see you lying motionless, knocked out. As we close the distance, I feint with my left hand, pretending to throw a punch, but in reality, I’m aiming a straight shot with my fist right at your chin. "Die, you bitch!"

 Mila_Mayhem: Once I’ve put enough distance between us, I stand up—still a little wobbly—wipe my hair out of my face, and look over at you. You’re standing too, ready to continue, your arms raised in a boxing stance. This damn slut will never give it a rest, I groan inwardly, then walk slowly and carefully toward you. “Haven’t you had enough yet, Doro? Do you want another kick in your pussy? Sure, whatever you want, whore,” I shout at you, partly to give myself some courage. Again, I throw a light jab at your guard, mostly to find the right distance. You counter with your left—a punch I can easily block. I laugh scornfully. “You should try a little harder—this isn’t going to work,” I taunt you. I hadn’t quite finished the sentence when your fist explodes against my chin. I didn’t see the punch coming, so it hits me all the harder. “Ahhhrrr....” My head lolls back, my eyes roll, and my mouth drops open wide. I freeze like that for a split second, motionless, and then fall flat on my back. I lie still on my back, drooling, dazed.

Dorona: Contrary to my fears, my fist landed square on your chin. You collapsed onto your back like a stalk being mown down. Hardly able to believe my luck, I hobbled over to you, plopped my ass down on your stomach, and raised my fist, ready to finish you off at the slightest movement. But you lay motionless, your eyes half-closed; there was no fun in hitting you while you were still out of it. I leaned down and pulled off your bikini top. Grasping your nipples between my fingers, I squeezed them hard to see how you’d react. "Well, look where your antics got you, you brazen slut. Not so much fun anymore, is it?" Your tits rose and fell, heaving in time with your breathing.

 Mila_Mayhem: Your blow knocks me off my feet, and I fall unconscious to the ground, twitching only slightly as I stretch my arms and legs out from my body. You look down at me in disbelief, a little suspicious that I’m just “playing dead” to surprise you, but I’m really knocked out. Slowly, you climb on top of me and let yourself fall onto my stomach, ready to react at any moment if I should move—but there’s no danger of that. “What a weak blonde,” you grin, pulling off my top, looking at my breasts and then back at my face, scrutinizing me again and again. Then you place your hands on my breasts, knead them, grasp my nipples with your fingers, twist them, and pull on them so that the skin on my breasts tightens. I moan softly, move my head slightly, and open my eyes, blinking. I come to my senses, but I still don’t understand what actually happened.

Dorona: As I squeeze and twist your nipples, I hear a faint moan escape you and notice you beginning to regain consciousness. I immediately grab your wrists, pin them to the mat above your shoulders, and straddle your chest—my knees pinning your arms in place, my pubic bone pressed firmly against your chin. Locking eyes with you, I ask sternly, "Do you give up, you chatty yet weak bitch—or should I break your nose?" To drive the point home, I press my fist against your nose, flattening it with my knuckles until it hurts. My backside finds it quite pleasurable to sit on your soft, warm tits. *I should take off my bikini bottoms,* the thought flashes through my mind.

Mila_Mayhem: I wake up, squint, my eyelids flutter, and my head is still throbbing from your hard blow. I see you sitting on top of me; I’m still wondering why she has two heads when I realize I’m seeing double. But slowly everything becomes clearer again—only the pain in my chin remains; I hope nothing’s broken there. You pin my arms down and slide higher up on top of me; your fist squeezes my nose, and I groan. “Not my nose… please, Doro, don’t break it… let’s just forget everything… yes… I won’t tease you anymore either… I swear…” I try to talk my way out of this somehow, to get you to let me go. But when I look at you like that, I know it’s a pipe dream—you’re going to see this through now. Desperately, I squirm beneath you, kick, but can’t break free. I’m completely at your mercy and howl with rage that it’s come to this.

Dorona: Your stubbornness and attempts to break free make me truly furious. I deliver a sharp, resounding slap across your face with my right hand, followed by another with my left. "Shut up and just give in!" Without waiting for a reply, I grab the back of your head and force your neck down with all my strength, burying your face into my lower abdomen—pressing my soft flesh against your nose and mouth, cutting off your air. "Either you surrender, Mila, or you’d better learn to breathe through your ass!" I sneer, continuing to smother you.

 Mila_Mayhem: My talking and fidgeting underneath you are driving you crazy with rage; I can clearly see it in your face, and I’d rather be quiet now—but it’s too late. You swing hard and slap me across the face with your right hand. “Ow…” I yelp, my head lolling to the side, my hair flying into my face, and then you do the same with your left. Dazed, I whimper beneath you; my cheeks are burning and already turning a pale shade of red. You yell at me loudly and slide your lower body onto my face. Even if I wanted to answer, it’s impossible now. Your hand grabs the back of my head and presses it firmly against your pussy. I sink deep into it and can’t breathe. You press me tightly against you; I kick wildly with my legs and can now only breathe you in. My lungs start to burn, my head is pounding, and there’s a roaring in my ears. I try to turn my head away to catch my breath, but you hold me tight, even increasing the pressure of your hand. Now I start to twitch, growing weaker and weaker; my resistance is exhausted.

Dorona: After watching you for a while—kicking your legs and squirming beneath me, struggling to catch even a breath of air—I straighten your neck and let you inhale. I fix you with a hard, unblinking stare and ask, "Do you give up? I’m counting to five! Don’t make me angry—I’m already furious!" All the while, I’m thoroughly enjoying sitting on you—this spiteful, pretty girl who caused me so much trouble at the club. Today, I’m going to play with this body as if it were my own personal toy.

 Mila_Mayhem: My senses are slowly beginning to fade; my skull feels like it’s about to burst, my eyes are bulging out, and I can clearly feel myself about to lose consciousness—a feeling I know all too well. Finally, you release me; I greedily suck the air into my burning lungs—the stale basement air feels as fresh and clear as if I were at the ocean. Then your question, harsh and unambiguous... “Are you giving up?”... Now I don’t need to think about it for long—I know I can’t break free, so I nod hesitantly. “Yes, Dorona, I surrender. You’ve defeated me.”

Dorona: I finally hear you give in, so I let go of the back of your head. As your head drops onto the mat, I immediately land a sharp slap across your face—"Why were you stalling, you bitch?" I flash a devious grin, shifting my ass excitedly against your tits before sliding lower so that my knees press down onto your biceps. Holding your wrists in place, I shift my weight onto my knees and begin to rock back and forth, grinding my knees into your biceps. After savoring your torment, I continue, "Now, open your mouth as wide as you can—and don't you dare waste my time again!" Once more, I press my fist against your nose, flattening it in a menacing way.

Mila_Mayhem: After I admit defeat, I think it’s over. You let go of my head, and I breathe a sigh of relief—but immediately you slap me hard across the face again. “Ahhh....” I cry out, writhing helplessly beneath you as tears fill my eyes. “Please, Doro... stop... I’ve already surrendered... what more do you want?” I whimper pitifully, only to be met with a contemptuous smirk from you. Your butt presses firmly against my bare breasts as you rub yourself against them with relish. Then you slide higher up on top of me, pressing your knees into my upper arms, squeezing and rubbing them painfully. I scream and cry out beneath you, start kicking again, throw my head around wildly—you seem to be enjoying my agony and just won’t stop. Then you yell at me loudly, ordering me to open my mouth; your fist presses against my nose, hard and demanding. Fearfully, I tear my eyes away and obediently open my mouth for you.

 Dorona: I gather a good amount of saliva in my mouth and spit it straight into your wide-open mouth. "Now — swallow!" I command. "And don't even think about faking it — I’ll know!" I place my fingers on your Adam’s apple to track its movement as you swallow. I look straight into your eyes, catching the slightest flicker of emotion on your face and the dilation of your pupils. "This is just the beginning — a light warm-up before the real fun starts. An engaging and action-packed program awaits you. I promise, you won’t be bored!"

 Mila_Mayhem: I open my mouth wide, stick out my tongue, and look up at you uncertainly. What on earth does that meanin’ bitch have in store for me? I’ll admit I’ve teased her often enough, and she’s beaten me up for it, but now she’s really scaring me. You lean down toward me, your face so close to mine that I can feel your hot breath, and spit into my open mouth. Disgusted, I grimace, gag, and want to spit it right back out, but your....NOW—SWALLOW...is unmistakable, yes...threatening. Obediently, I swallow your saliva with utter revulsion, and immediately a perverse satisfaction spreads across your face. I sob in humiliation, sensing this isn’t the end of it.

 Dorona: I nod with satisfaction as my fingers feel your Adam’s apple move when you swallow. I get up from off you and say, with a hint of reproach, "You need to follow my orders even faster." Then, I deliver a sharp kick with my heel to your solar plexus. As you writhe in pain on the mat, I pull off your bikini bottoms, strip off my own, and stand completely naked. I sit on your face with the calm, confident air of someone who does this every single day. I command, "Stick your tongue inside my cunt! It’ll be put to better use there than it was for mocking me." Once I feel your tongue inside, I continue, "Now, listen closely! You have exactly 12 minutes to pleasure me with your tongue until I climax. If you fail, I’ll drown you in the toilet! And don’t think I’m joking—I’ve actually done it to another girl before." I glance at the clock on the wall. "Go on—your time is already ticking!"

 Mila_Mayhem: I swallow your disgusting saliva; you can clearly see how repulsive I find it and how I’m fighting the urge to vomit, but you just think it’s funny. You stand up and kick me hard in the solar plexus. “Urrgg…,” I whimper, and my saliva, mixed with yours, shoots out of my mouth again like a fountain. Curled up, I clutch my stomach, writhing pitifully on the floor in front of you, gasping for breath... Oh God, why on earth is she doing this to me, why?....Then you lean down toward me, pull off my bikini bottoms, so that I’m now lying completely naked in front of you, and it dawns on me—there’s no escape; you’re going to savor this until the very end, humiliate me, degrade me...whatever else you have in store. Whimpering, I watch as you, too, undress and then climb on top of me; grinning, you let yourself fall onto my face, your pussy pressing against my mouth, and you threaten to drown me if you don’t come soon. I think I must have misheard you, but one look at your face proves me wrong....you’re completely serious. You push your pussy firmly toward me, pressing your pubic mound against my lips, and I have no choice but to lick you. I slide my tongue between your labia, licking deeply through them, flicking and fluttering it, then I push it deeper inside you and start fucking you.

 Dorona: You lick my pussy, moving your tongue diligently in different directions and in various ways. I begin to get aroused, though slowly. I start stroking my nipples with my fingers. I glance at the clock and warn you: "Lick with more energy, you slut—you only have eight minutes left." I watch the expressions on your face closely.

Mila_Mayhem: I lick your pussy, but somehow you’re still very dry. I start sucking on your pussy, pushing my tongue deeper and letting it dance inside your cave. Your eyes are literally drilling into my face, burning their way into it. “That’s not what arousal looks like,” I think to myself, and I’m startled when you tell me how much time I have left. Your voice is cold, inscrutable; I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but your threat to drown me is always in the back of my mind. If she’s done it once, why not a second time? And I’m just a weak victim. I lick you even faster, stick my tongue out as far as possible, thrust it into you, and fuck you. Come already, you Russian slut, come already.

Dorona: I keep caressing my pussy with my fingers, while you seem to be trying harder with your tongue—but it’s still not enough to make me climax. I start screaming at you: "STICK YOUR TONGUE DEEPER AND LICK HARDER, YOU SLUT!" I rap my knuckles against your forehead, then turn and punch you in the stomach. "You’ve only got four minutes left, you wretch!"

Mila_Mayhem: I lick quickly and intensely, like I’ve never done before; panic drives me on, and time is slowly running out. You’re still unsatisfied, yelling at me, but I’m already doing my best—I can’t do any more. Just as I try to push my tongue deeper into you, you slam your fist hard against my forehead; my tongue slips out of you, I see stars, and my eyes flicker as I briefly black out. Confused, I let out a howl, and you punch me in the stomach—hard and forcefully. “Umpppfffffffff.......” I groan, collapse, and gasp for air, and time is slipping away faster and faster; I howl in despair, lift my head again, and lick you through the pain, greedily gasping for air as I do so.

 Dorona: Your suffering from the blows of my fist turns me on; I focus on the sensations from your tongue, and three minutes later, I finally climax with a moan. My pussy convulses with pleasure, drenching your face and mouth in my juices. I remain sitting motionless on top of you for a few more minutes to catch my breath. Then, I stand up and say, "Congratulations, slut—you’ve survived long enough for our next bit of fun! We’ll need a few accessories for this one." I walk away and quickly return with my backpack, from which I pull out a pair of handcuffs. I sit back down on you and lock them around your wrists in front of you. Then, I take out a straight razor and flip it open.

 Mila_Mayhem: I lick and suck your pussy as if my life depended on it—and in a way, it really does. And finally, just before time runs out, I feel your pubic area clench and twitch; your juices flow out of you, squirting into my mouth, over my tongue. I swallow, listen to your moans—almost happily—and fall back, relieved. I’m lying beneath you; you’re still sitting there, breathing heavily, then you look at me and announce something… I think I’m not hearing right… you’re announcing the next round of fun… “Oh God, no,” I whisper. You quickly grab a backpack and put handcuffs on me. “Doro… what are you up to? Please stop… please.” I start crying again and freeze instantly when I see the razor blade. My eyes widen unnaturally, and I almost pass out from fear.

Dorona: I drag you by the hair to the edge of the mat and force you onto your knees a couple of meters from the bench press. I sit down on the bench myself and, flicking a straight razor open and shut, I say, "You and I are going to play a very simple game: you’ll stay there on your knees, and I’ll spit at you from here. You have to catch my spit in your mouth. Every time you miss—every time you fail to catch it—I’m going to use this razor to cut something off you. Do you understand, you insolent whore? I’m starting now—get ready."

Mila_Mayhem: You roughly grab my hair, pull me up off the floor, and drag me along with you like a piece of livestock. You shove me down onto the edge of the mat so that I fall to my knees, and you walk over to the weight bench. I look at you questioningly, my hands bound in handcuffs, and as I listen to what you’re saying, I start to feel sick from what I’m hearing. “What do you mean, ‘cut off’… what are you going to cut off… you’re not going to… you’re just scaring me… right… just scaring me?” My voice gets higher and higher, almost breaking, and I look at you, filled with panic. “Please tell me you’re joking… say it…” I burst into tears, trembling all over as I look at you.

Dorona: I take a moment to enjoy watching your face—drenched in tears and twisted with fear—and then, instead of answering, I say, "Here goes!" I gather a good amount of saliva in my mouth and spit, aiming for your face from two meters away.

 Mila_Mayhem: "Oh God... no..." Your face shows no reaction—only a diabolical smile plays on your lips. Then you spit; I quickly open my mouth wide, just like we always did with popcorn to catch it, but the spit hits me on the cheek. Startled, I look at you as your saliva slowly runs down my face and drips off.

 Dorona: "You missed, you whore!" I stand up and walk toward you, unfolding a razor as I go. Reaching you, I lean in, take your chin in my free hand, and gaze deep into your eyes—reveling in your fear. Then, I grab your left ponytail, pull it upward, and sever it with the razor. I toss the severed hair aside and return to the bench. "Let’s try again—don’t miss." For the second time, I spit toward your face.

 Mila_Mayhem: Your saliva is sticking to my face; it’s impossible to catch it with my mouth, and I’m sure you know that, too. Slowly, you stand up and walk toward me. My eyes stare fearfully at the open razor. “Doro, please… you’re not really going to—” I tremble violently and raise my bound hands defensively; you grab my chin, look deep into my eyes, revel in my fear, and cut off my left braid. “My hair……nooo……oh no.” Tears stream down my face; I can’t believe it. You hold up my braid like a trophy and then toss it carelessly aside. You spit again, this time more accurately, and I actually catch it in my wide-open mouth. I swallow it, sobbing.

 Dorona: "Well done, you whore! But it’ll be harder for you now—try and catch it!" I spit for the third time—aiming carelessly, without trying to land it right on your face. I wonder if you can crawl on your knees fast enough to catch my spit in your mouth after all.

Mila_Mayhem: You spit again quickly; I crawl forward a little and open my mouth wide—it looks ridiculous, and you laugh at me. Your spit doesn’t even hit my head; it splatters onto my bare shoulder. I look at you, almost resigned. It doesn’t matter anymore—the other braid has to come off anyway, I think to myself.

Dorona: I walk up to you, and with a practiced flick of the razor, I slice off your second braid, then step back. "Well, you whore—no more braids left. Next time, I’ll have to cut off your head!" I spit in your direction—casually, for the fourth time.

 Mila_Mayhem: As expected, you cut off my second braid, joining it to the other one. I gaze sadly at my beautiful hair as if I had no other worries. You walk back and spit again, but so quickly and unexpectedly that I react far too late. My mouth opens automatically, and your spit splatters against my forehead. With wide eyes, I look at you; immediately, your words race through my mind: “No, she won’t do that… or will she…?” I start to tremble; the fear makes me whimper softly.

 Dorona: I approach you: "Well, that’s it, you whore—you’ve lost your head to me. Lay it on the bench; I’m going to cut it off. I have no use for your head—what good is it to me? If it were the head of one of my slaves, at least, I might consider keeping it. Slaves can sometimes be of some use, after all. But what use is your chattering head to me? How could you possibly be of any service?" I gaze at your face—smeared with spit and drenched in tears, your hair no longer in braids—with a cold, cruel stare.

Mila_Mayhem: You walk toward me, your gaze fixed on me, cold and unyielding, the razor in your right hand, open, its blade gleaming and sparkling. My whole body is shaking; a muffled, grunting moan rises from deep within me as fear makes me feel sick. “My head?... No.... Why? Why are you doing this? Just let me go—you’ve won and had your fun; isn’t that enough?” With a voice choked with tears, I beg you, looking up at you, my makeup completely smudged and runny. But all I see in your eyes is a coldness that makes me freeze.

 Dorona: You’re begging me to let you go, sobbing away. It seems fear has shut down your brain—you can’t come up with anything more interesting than that. I feign deep thought and say, "Fine. I can always cut your head off a little later. There’s still one game we haven’t played yet. It’s called 'Lara Catgirl and Her Captive.' Lara taught me how to play it." I tuck the razor back into my backpack and pull out some ropes. "I’m going to do some boxing—hitting the heavy bag to some music. Care to guess what you’ll be doing?"

 Mila_Mayhem: You’re right about one thing—fear has completely clouded my mind. I stammer out incoherent words and cry, looking up at you imploringly. “Lara… what about Lara? What have you done to my wife?” I just don’t understand what you want, but I see you put the knife away and pull some ropes out of your backpack. Slowly, I start to calm down again and take a deep breath. “You want to box—with me as… a punching bag…???” I groan inwardly. Will my torment never end? What else has this Russian she-devil come up with? If only I’d never come here. I didn’t have a good feeling about being alone with you anyway, but I never expected it to get this bad. I nod weakly. “Do I have a choice???”

 Dorona: "Lara? I haven’t quite finished dealing with Lara yet. But I’ll handle her, and then I’ll give her away to someone—maybe that 145-kilogram dominant woman who stopped by our club yesterday :) She’ll be thrilled." I take one of the punching bags off its hook, tie a rope to your handcuffs, loop it over the hook, pull it taut, and secure the other end to the cuffs so that your arms are stretched upward and you’re left standing on nothing but your tiptoes, suspended from the hook. I play "Woland’s Hymn (Hymn to Satan)" on my phone and start dancing around you to the music. I step closer and press my cheek against your warm, damp one, savoring the soft, velvety texture of your skin. Then, I kiss you on the lips, sliding my tongue into your mouth to explore it from within. Suddenly, I step back and deliver a sharp punch to your stomach.

 Dorona: ERROR|3

https://youtu.be/rd6FKVX_fJQ?list=PLQA5HfDLDQ7NX6X6_UuDgr4GK2ivKE0_8&t=55
https://youtu.be/rd6FKVX_fJQ?list=PLQA5HfDLDQ7NX6X6_UuDgr4GK2ivKE0_8&t=55

Dorona: (Above is a link to "Woland's Hymn")

Mila_Mayhem: You ignore my last question, take a punching bag off the hook instead, and hang me from it. You thread a rope through my handcuffs and the hook in the ceiling, then pull me up so that I can barely stand on my tiptoes. Stretched out...helpless...defenseless...I stand before you, offering you a large target—a punching bag that doesn’t hit back. I’ve given up begging you; I’ve realized it’s pointless. Maybe you’ll lose interest too if I just accept everything with resignation—I don’t have any other choice anyway. You pull out your cell phone, play some music—Russian choral music—and start dancing. I’m slowly beginning to doubt your sanity—is she just sadistic, malicious, or completely insane? You sway your hips like a priestess of the devil; everything about you seems eerie—your movements, your gestures, your glances. Terrified, my eyes follow you as you dance around me while the music picks up tempo; you press yourself against my body and kiss me. Your tongue now dances in my mouth, challenging mine to a duet. But before it can go any further, you take a step back, laugh at me, and punch me hard in the stomach. “Ohhrrr....” A throaty groan escapes my mouth; the blow slaps loudly against my bare skin, my body swings as I hang from the ceiling, and if it weren’t for the restraints, I would have fallen to the floor by now. My cheeks puff out and my saliva sprays toward you like water from a hose. Gasping painfully for air, I hang before you with my legs buckled.

 Dorona: I continue to dance around you. Then, I reach out and gently stroke your breasts, caressing them, feeling their soft warmth beneath my hands. Suddenly, I squeeze your nipples with all my might, and the moment I hear you moan, I sharply drive my knee between your legs. Then, I pull you into an embrace, pressing my cheek against yours once more, so that I may share in the pleasure of this pain with you. "You like it, my Mila—don't you?" Our bare chests and bellies touch, and I can feel your agitated breathing.

 Mila_Mayhem: You act as if nothing has happened, continuing to dance freely to the music around me while I hang from the hook, whimpering like a living punching bag. You caress my breasts, gently, almost tenderly; I lift my head and look at you through tear-filled eyes as you powerfully squeeze my nipples together. “Ahhhhrrrgggggggg....” I scream shrilly as the pain shoots violently through my breasts, and at the same moment your knee rams into my pussy. A sharp, stabbing pain races like lightning up to the top of my skull; I groan gurglingly, twitch violently, and find no way to ease my agony. I howl out loud, submissive, hanging limply from the rope and turning slightly toward you. The music keeps playing, burning itself into my brain; I’ll probably never forget this song, and hopefully I’ll never hear it again. You embrace me again, pressing your cheek against my tear-streaked face; our bodies are pressed together, and I feel your bare, warm skin against mine as I breathe heavily and quickly, my heart beating in staccato.

 Dorona: I walk around you from behind and kick your ass three times with force. "We're even now." I wrap my arms around your neck from behind to create a rear naked choke hold - my right hand suffocates, pressing into your cervical arteries with the biceps and forearm bone, and my left hand serves as a precise support and presses the palm of my hand on the back of your head. "And this is a bonus!" - I say and begin to squeeze my hands around your neck. I feel with my bare chest how your body trembles.

 Mila_Mayhem: I’m hanging by my arms now rather than standing, whimpering softly, twitching. My head is hanging down, my hair is stuck to my face, and saliva is running out of my mouth, dripping onto my breasts. You walk around me, look at me with satisfaction, and then kick me in my bare butt—three times. Again, I scream out, and my body sways weakly from the kicks; my resistance seems completely broken—you can tell I’ve given up. Now you wrap your arm around my neck from behind, while your hand presses my head against your arm to increase the pressure even more. You start to squeeze, choking me. Your body presses against my back; I can clearly feel your breasts, your nipples hard with arousal. “Urrggggg......” I gurgle, writhing in front of you and trying to throw my head back, but your grip is firm and merciless. My eyes are wide open, bulging from their sockets; I gasp for air, choking, my mouth wide open. An agonizing tremor runs through my body as my lungs start to burn, my head fills with a thick fog, and a roaring sound begins in my ears. I twitch violently, now dancing, bound to the hook like a hanged woman; my tongue slips out from the corner of my mouth, and with a hotter gurgle I collapse, twitch violently one last time, and then hang motionless before you.

 Dorona: As soon as I start tightening my hands around your throat, you lose consciousness—or perhaps you’re just pretending. It’s hard to tell, so I let go immediately. I take you down from the hook and lift your bare legs, hoping to get blood—and oxygen—flowing back to your brain. "Are you trying to escape me, you wretch? You don’t get away from me that easily," I whisper. "I’ll drag you back, even from the other side! The game isn’t over yet! Come on—wake up, now!"

Mila_Mayhem: You choke me fiercely with your arms; I convulse violently and slump unconscious, hanging lifelessly from the rope with my arms outstretched. You hold me and untie the rope from the ceiling hook, laying my limp body on the floor. You lift my legs to help me come to; it takes quite a while, and you notice the first signs of movement in me. My eyelids twitch; I let out a stifled groan, then move my head and blink, looking at you in confusion, coughing and clutching my throat. The first thing I hear are your words... “The game isn’t over yet...” ...and I just want to lose consciousness again.

Dorona: "How are you feeling?" I ask, with a touch of concern. "I’ll perk you up a bit, you whore. I’ve got an interesting little thing here—a surprise for your wife, Lara. I just happen to need someone to test it on." I pull a powerful, contact-style police stun gun from my backpack. "Is there anything you’d like to tell me right now? Anything you want to ask for? Anything you’d like to offer me? Speak up now—otherwise, it’ll be too late."

 Mila_Mayhem: I slowly wake up, lying on the floor in front of you and looking up at you. You’re talking at me again, but I’m not yet able to process it all. Coughing, I hold my throat and see the stun gun in your hand. Oh God, is this happening again? Doesn’t she ever get enough? “Let Lara out of here—she hasn’t done anything to you. Please don’t hurt her.” I sit up. “I have just one request: let me go at last, please.” Again, my voice breaks into a whimper; overcome with fear, I start shaking violently.

 Dorona: "Sorry, but I can't let Lara go—just accept it!" I say in a firm voice. I don't bother to clarify that the reason I can't let Lara go is that, in order to let her go, I would first have to capture her—something I haven't managed to do just yet. "We’re about to play one last game: 'Capturing Lara.'" I take the compact stun gun, press its contacts against your pussy, and push the button—a crackle of electricity rings out...

 Mila_Mayhem: I stare at you blankly, expecting your next act of cruelty, because you surely have nothing good in mind with that stun gun. “Dora, let’s not do this anymore—I’m not mad at you, really. You’ll let me go, and I’ll forget all this, and my hair will grow back, too.” I laugh feignedly and artificially; you can tell right away that everything I’m saying is fake, and you notice it all the more—you know me. Then you press the stun gun against my vagina and set it off. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh....” A scream so loud it echoes through the large hall escapes my mouth; a burning, stinging jolt shoots through my lower abdomen. I topple to the side, pulling my legs up in a spasm and pressing my hands against my burning pussy. The electric shock makes my body shake violently; I’m on the verge of fainting, my eyes rolling back.

Dorona: As you drift into a semi-conscious state, I grab the chain of your handcuffs and drag you toward the exit of the basement. While you’re coming to, I manage to find the key to the front door and unlock it. Then, I remove your handcuffs, and once I’m sure you’re fully awake, I say, "Sorry, Mila, but your bikini and the rest of your clothes are staying with me—as a trophy. You’ll figure out a way to get home naked. I managed it after my fight with Lara, so you can too! Have a nice day!" With that, I set you on your feet and, with a kick to your backside, shove you out the door—completely naked. I lock the door again and head back down to the basement to change my clothes and gather my things, humming "Woland’s Hymn."

 Mila_Mayhem: Even though I’m fighting it, the powerful electric shock causes me to lose consciousness again. You look down at me with a smirk, pack your things back into your backpack, then grab the handcuffs and drag my lifeless body out of the basement like a sack of potatoes. The cold air outside brings me back to my senses, and I shiver. You just walk away, leaving me there like that, naked and abused. “No, Doro, don’t leave me alone like this—at least give me my things… please… you can’t leave me out here naked in this neighborhood,” I scream in horror. You close the door; I rush after you, pounding on it. “Open up… let me in… Doro.” No reaction. Wailing, I crouch down next to the door, curl up, and wrap my arms around my drawn-up legs, waiting. You’ll have to come back out here eventually, and then maybe you’ll take pity on me.

Dorona: I emerge from the basement—fully dressed, with a backpack on my back—and there you are. I knew you’d be waiting, hoping to beg for your clothes back. Oh, naive Mila—you still haven’t grasped that I am capable of being ruthless. Before you can even open your mouth, I kick you hard in the crotch, lock the door, and vanish into the darkness, leaving you curled up, naked, on the ground outside the basement entrance.