No Price Too High: Bound for the Long Carnal Night

NO PRICE TOO HIGH: To the Wrestling Ring (G/G)
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As Alessandra sashayed on into the room ahead of him, Lance again remarked to himself how that tight, round, firm, proud, and sassy ass of hers, wriggling with just the perfect amount of invitation as she strode, was making a huge entrance even as it exited away from him. Wrestling! He had visions of slipping and sliding all over that sweet ass, with her pinned on her tummy, and he taking longer than really needed to flip her over for a point-winning pin. Then again, he could see that ass slithering all over his body as she jockeyed to pin him. Good fuckin’ stuff!

It was a risk bringing him in here, Alexxi knew, for he could easily find another girl that he would prefer to pour his fortune on; however, the risk was part of the game. Two years ago when she started this ‘career’ she would have avoided it like the plague. Now, she used it as a tool to drive potential customers insane with desire, until they were willing to empty their trust funds and turn over the titles to their fancy cars just to have her.

The scene within took him by surprise, snatched his breath for a second. It was a cavernous room with high peaked ceiling. It was dominated in dead center by a standard competitive ring that seemingly could be used for wrestling or boxing. The tightly stretched canvas mat was a vibrant mid-blue rather than the usual dingy buff or off-white of most rings.

Off to one side was a smaller ring, likewise matted in mid-blue. And, in a far-off corner was a large recess in the floor, looking almost like a sunken tub or pool. A bright pink plastic liner lay crumpled inside it, the edges lapping up onto the floor.

It was the scene in the large ring that grabbed his gonads straight on! “God, my God, Alessandra! Look at that,” he exclaimed in genuine astonishment.

Stopping so that her shoulder blade was against his chest, Alexxi smiled and nodded, “Dion knows how to throw one hell of party, doesn’t he?” Then she turned her head so that she could just see him over her shoulder. “Most of the girls start out here in the wrestling ring. First against other girls to entice the crowd, then against the customers - men or women.”

Lance wanted to grab her magnificent body and have his own “hell of a party” with her right there and then, on the floor, in front of everyone! He could see right through her seductive way of fusing their bodies for a quick instant, right through the motive for turning her delicious face to him, right through the drippy innuendo of her words. And he wanted more of it. Hours of it. The finale would be cosmic and unforgettable.

Lance’s eyes fairly did the telescoping traffic cone number at the sight of the girl vs. girl oil wrestling match under way. He saw now that the blue canvas mat was actually a slick plastic mat of some kind that squealed and squeaked in the most deliciously lurid way as the girls’ oiled bodies slipped and slid on it.

“Is this what you’re going to do? Is this what WE’RE going to do?” he asked Alessandra.

He was like the proverbial kid in a candy store, and Alexxi couldn’t be more pleased. Her eyes glittered with delight as she gave his fingers two quick, pulsing squeezes. “For starters,” she assured him. “Sort of an appetizer before the main meal.” Just then the ringmaster stood and blew his whistle ending the pin so that the girls got up from the mat to start the next round.

The whistle startled away the blushing torment he felt in his knotted, tickly solar plexus as her promise of “appetizer” and “main meal” body-slammed into his imagination.

The two scant bikini-clad girls were right out of the swimsuit edition of “Sports Illustrated,” in Lance’s opinion. Both were tallish, but under six feet, he estimated, in their early 20’s no doubt, lithe, fit, trim, ample of bosom, cock-hardening tight of ass cheeks, and beautifully toned and sexy without being bulgingly muscular or Amazonian in any way. Their legs were long, perfectly contoured and athletic, and lethal looking. Get your chest or head trapped in those and you’re fried, Lance reflected.

One was a stunning dark ebony beauty with close, tight, un-dyed corn rolls hugging her scalp. She was a panther in motion. The copious oil beaded and coalesced into shimmering black rivulets all over her bare flesh. Her bikini top and bottom were coal black.

The other was a gorgeous, golden-tanned blonde. Her long shoulder-length hair snapped about all stringy and clumped from the oil that soaked it, but it made her look fierce and dangerous. She was a wound-up huntress, a lioness. She wore a don’t-mess-with-me looking flesh-colored bikini accented with cocoa piping that traced her groin lines on the bottom and her cleavage lines on the top.

A fairly large crowd of patrons, men and women, stood or sat on folding chairs to watch. Several couples play-wrestled with each other on the floor, watching at the same time. A man in briefs only straddled the ass of a woman lying on her stomach, in panties only, and they both watched the match from their vantage points. Two sets of girls rolled around together, fondling and kissing, and watching the action.

In the ring, the two combatants, kneeling on the mat facing each other, were locked, arms wrapped around one another, in pre-takedown position. The black girl pressed her advantage, toppled them both to their sides, and wrapped her powerful thighs around the blonde’s, stretching them out. Her next move was swift and unavoidable. She rolled into her opponent, and the blonde was overturned flat on her back. Her aggressor slid atop her handily, slipping into a deadly pinning grapevine in a fluid motion that was sheer beauty to watch. She clamped her thighs outside those of the bottom girl and twined her ankles around the blonde’s ankles, then spread her legs wide and dragged her opponent’s wide with her. She consummated the hold, and the pin, by grabbing her opponent’s wrists and forcing her arms down onto the mat, bent, with both their hands by the bottom’s ears. Her groin ground into the blonde’s abs, and her stomach crushed onto the blonde’s. She held her opponent’s wrists down straight-armed, lifting her tits up off the blonde’s, but hovering promisingly close above the blonde’s.

The crowd cheered, clapped, and catcalled to the struggling pair. “This is so fucking hot, bitch!” he said to Alessandra, invoking his “entitlement” to call her that and revealing his obvious arousal and enthusiasm.

Having led Lance closer than he would have been allowed unescorted, Alexxi nodded abstractly and pulled him up onto a riser so that he would have an unhindered view of the endgame.

The black girl now was thrusting up and down on her pinned victim, stretching her legs and arms to accentuate the helplessness of the hold, and hurling hot verbal taunts at the blonde. “I told you not to mess with me, you bitch!” she hissed. “What you gonna do? now? Ya’ give, whore? Ya’ give? Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

“ALEXXI!!” a booming, deep voice, replete with laugher and good nature, sounded behind them. Lance turned and saw a shortish bull of a man somewhere in his 40s, balding, twinkle-eyed, and stockily reminiscent of the fine-muscled athlete he must have been when younger. His bronzed umber complexion, thick dark eyebrows, and proud out-thrust chest declared him a pure, salty, glorious Calmatta olive of a Greek, an Adonis in his own special way. “Will you be playing with us here tonight, you bad little bitch, you?” he asked her in the most casual and familiar way. “And who’s this wiry strong-looking blade with you, m’dear?”

With a broad, easy smile, Alexxi placed her gloved hands on Sully’s shoulders and leaned in to air kiss his cheek as he joined them. “I believe I would like that,” she replied, turning to indicate her companion. “I rescued him from downstairs. He looked like he might be fun to wrestle with…” Her arm was around Sully, but her eyes were all over Lance.

Her sultry “fun to wrestle with” clamored about in his head as the tightening in his crotch challenged his Levis to conceal his arousal. Her felt her eyes wrestling his body without need of contact, or ring

“I am Sully. Sully Savikas,” he told Lance. “I’m ringmaster here, and my word is law! Right, Alexxi?”

With a low purr and a playful swat at the air near the older man’s chest, Alexxi replied devotedly, “Don’t say things like that, Sully. You will make me want to be bad just to earn the punishment.” It was all verbal jousting with them though. He’d never lay a hand on the girls – to him they were like prized racehorses.

Then, laying her head on Sully’s shoulder, Alexxi explained, “Sully vets all the wrestlers, makes sure we behave…” She winked at Lance. “So, if you wish to play in the ring - either managing one of the wrestlers or going ten rounds with me - then he’s the man to see.” She was watching his face, wondering if having to pay for the privilege would dampen his enthusiasm.

Lance determined that he’d opt for both. No price would be too high to pay to watch her tigress flesh strain and struggle against another girl under his call and stewardship, and then to climb, alright, into the ring and onto her. Until she climbed all over him with far more than those eyes! “I am Lance Pearson, Sully! Great to meet ya’. This is just an over-the-top place, let me tell you!”

“Well, thanks, Lance,” Sully replied. “So, we should talk terms here. You think you want to manage the champ, Alexxi, here? I assume you plan to throw her around a bit yourself, huh? Haaaaa! If you can! Alexxi, go talk with Fern over by the showers and line yourself up a suitable victim! Lance and I should talk.”

Nodding distractedly, Alexxi stepped against Lance for a second to rub his bicep with her silk-covered hand. Licking, then biting, her lower lip, she stood on tip-toe a little and whispered, “Pay close attention, sweetheart. I want you to at least give me a fight…” Even as she finished she had started walking away, in no rush as she began pinching at the fingers of her gloves to remove them.

“Bitch,” he whispered, playfully, after her, certain that she had heard him. There would be no mercy now.

Sully led Lance to a low table in a secluded booth. By the end of the conversation, Lance had agreed to pay $1,000 to manage Alessandra during her match, which entitled him to oil her down as often as necessary between rounds, and, of course, to “direct” her ringside in her moves, holds, and pins. He also agreed to bid for her as an opponent, and to pay the high bid amount, plus an additional $800 to her for full nude wrestling, plus $500 under the table to Sully to seal the deal of him being high bidder.

It was a most righteous Club, indeed!

Along the right wall was a glass walled shower and changing room, built rather like a car wash, with the showers at one end and the changing room at the other. As she climbed the stairs into the changing room, she pressed her gloves into one hand, twirling them once before disappearing behind the glass that was very lightly ‘smoked’ at the center, so that the girls’ legs and heads were clearly visible, but the middle just very suggestive shapes behind the blur. She made speedy work of removing her clothing, then went and took a quick shower, positioning herself so that her silhouette could be seen though the glass as she tied on her black crocheted string bikini and pasted a sparkling rhinestone into her navel.

Lance sat with Sully and watched in the direction of the showers. There she was, a phantom behind the smoky, not-quite-clouded glass. Her head and full mane of hair were unmistakable. Even from the distance, her legs threatened with power and feminine prowess. The rest of her body was all fluid shadow – like the undulations of a pale distant lava lamp from the 1950s. Would he be sucked in and dissolved by scathing heat? Or would he wrap his limbs around those slithery torso shapes and claim mastery over them?

When she stepped back out onto the platform at the top of the stairs, little remained of the lady-out-on-the-town. Alexxi could have been modeling that swimsuit - or she could have been about to commit murder in it. From the direction of her stare, it was Lance that was in trouble, not the Taiwanese girl standing beside her clad in a vivid green snakeskin bikini.

The sight of the two of them stole Lance’s breath and riveted his manhood. They both were killers – but Alessandra clearly was the one to be bested in uphill battle. He opined it would not be much of a lengthy struggle. His “girl” would trounce the other one. Maybe Alessandra had challenged her to ensure a win – all the more to serve to intimidate Lance! He laughed silently to himself.

Alessandra stood taller than the Asian temptress, and her smooth, svelte lines suggested greater strength and more supple agility. She wore the scant string bikini more as an extension of her sumptuous, ample orbs and taut, defined abs and pubis than as a covering for them. The rhinestone in her navel blinked mockingly at him. His mouth hung agape, a measure of how her body stunned him, none of which was lost on her as she studied him.

The rise in the music marked the beginning of the match. Sully announced Geisha first, who strutted down the stairs and spun circles as she navigated the crowd, who sprayed her with oil and tried to cop a feel in as she passed. Alexxi disappeared back into the changing room during this, having had a marvelous idea…

When Alexxi appeared at Sully’s call, she was carrying a short riding crop with a metal star on the flick, which she used to menace away those that would maul her. This only encouraged many of them, and oil was running down her body as if she had showered in it by the time she twirled gracefully over the rope with the whip in her teeth. The girls posed for a second and then paraded around the ring so that the entire crowd could cheer for them. Clasping hands Alexxi pulled the smaller woman against her and whispered in her ear as the two rubbed their hands over each other’s arms shoulders and Alexxi teased Geisha’s thighs with the riding crop. In that few seconds Alexxi dictated the match and ended by giving her opponent a passionate kiss, their tongues both visible when they drew away, eyes locked.

Lance watched the bawdy, sexy display of affection between the two women, enraptured totally by the sight and his anticipation of many things that would happen in the minutes to come.

Sully, standing commandingly in the middle of the ring, clapped his hands overhead to arrest the attentions of all assembled. “Now,” he incanted in a loud, carnival-like voice, “let me have your attention, please. This is a five-round, wrestle-all rounds match, with the winner being she who garners most points either by confirmed pins or tap-outs by her opponent. A pin constitutes both shoulder blades flat on the mat to a count of seven. A tap-out by a wrestler, indicated either by a verbal, ‘I give,’ or a tapping of the mat with the fingers or hand, is to be honored immediately by the dominating wrestler, who will release and break clean from the tapper. A point may also be awarded if, in the judgment of the referee – me – a hold is being applied from which the dominated wrestler cannot hope to escape. This is a ‘constructive’ tap-out to be called at the referee’s discretion.

“Each round is of unlimited duration. It ends solely by confirmed pin, tap-out, or constructive tap-out. This match is essentially no-holds barred – except that there will be no punching or hitting with closed fist. Slapping IS allowed.

“At the conclusion of this match, there will be a 10-minute open bid for the privilege of wrestling with the winner in the same type of match, same rules. The highest bid wins. The loser of this match will serve as manager to the winning bidder. I shall manage the winner of this match in her match with the high bidder.

“Girls! You know the rules. First round bell sounds in seven minutes. Managers! To the ring, now.”

A very excited woman pushed her Prada pumps into another woman’s hands and climbed up into the ring to take her place as Geisha’s manager, but Alexxi’s eyes were on Lance. Playfully, she rubbed the side of the whip against the front of her thigh, her arms looped over the top rope as she leaned into her corner as if she could fall asleep there. “Do you know what to do, Lance?” she asked him, cool eyes studying him appraisingly. “Have you ever managed a wrestler before?”

“Have you ever been properly managed before?” he asked her as he approached her in her corner. He held a large squeeze bottle of the finest premium organic massage oil from Syria, high in esters and Vitamin E tocotrienols, clear colored, unscented, but lightly flavored with the kiss of wild cherry. In a match such as this, the opponents could expect to experience large mouthfuls of each other, both voluntarily and involuntarily as flesh clashed with flesh. The flavored oil would make such tasty morsels of their bodies.

Lance placed the bottle on the floor, and quickly crossed his arms at his waist, pulling his black muscle tee off. His tanned, magnificently muscled chest drew gasps and sighs of pleasure and longing from the women spectators. Geisha even looked over from her corner and stared at his broad shouldered, firm muscled back, thrilled by the hope that she might be enjoying the feel of his fine chiseled body later, either as his opponent or his manager, should he bid for the next match and win it.

Lance moved within inches of Alexxi and again asked, “Have you ever been properly managed before? Do you know how to snap to direction from ringside and trust the judgment of your manager?”

With a slow turn of her head and an even slower blink, Alexxi gave him a look of pure contempt as if to ask who was he to question her professionalism. “Sully did not tell you much about me, hrmm?”

He twisted his shirt into a tight rope-like roll and threw it over her head, around her neck, and drew her up into him. He pulled down on the make-shift leash so that she bent forward, and he bent forward into her, into a huddle. A manager-wrestler strategy huddle, as it appeared to the spectators.

He spoke to her under his breath. “Now, Alexxi – and I will call you that as it seems to be your handle around here -- I will make things crystal clear to you, love. Haaa! My wrestler management skills at the very least match your skill at setting yourself up for an easy-win match. Haaaa! Geisha is no match for you, and you know it! But,” he tugged gently on the shirt, “that pleases me, my little wrestler. It ensures that you will have me to face in the next match. I have no doubt that this thought will dominate your lovely little head during this match! Haaa aaa aaaa!”

With a sly smile, Alexxi purred, “Our match is the reason I chose Geisha, my sweet.” She did not explain it, but she knew if she had chosen a larger, stronger opponent he would learn too much of her style. It would never do to give him such an advantage.

He broke the huddle and stepped back from her.

I need to be as absolutely slick as you can possibly make me,” she laid her head back on the top of the turnbuckle, looking at him through her lashes. “Especially my arms and legs and my belly.” She smiled at him and raised one foot to press into the top of his thigh. “Would you like to do my front or my back first?”

He clasped a hand around her ankle and held her foot against the top of his thigh, moving it to the inside as he spoke. “Neither. We take advantage of your need to stretch to begin this.”

He pulled her from the ring corner, still holding her ankle, and pulled up on it, positioning her foot hooked onto the top rope, her leg up nearly at a 90-degree angle to her torso and running straight out from it to the top rope. “Now, you know how to stretch like this. Do be a dear athlete and stretch.”

He picked up the oil bottle, aimed it at her leg, and spritzed a nice drippy stream of it onto her thigh. Standing to her side, he at once pressed both hands firmly around her upper thigh and began spreading the slick, glistening oil up and down the length of her thigh to the knee. His hands stroked her oily flesh with deep runs of the heel of his hands alternating with gentler wriggling of his fingers, working the oil in. He squirted more oil onto her and worked it up to the margin of her bikini bottom. He pressed his thumb under it and probed, pushing oil up under it, up to the grooved juncture of her thigh and torso. He locked eyes with her as his thumb traveled the course of that groove, stopping just level with her mons and pulling back up. He traced other fingers under her bikini across the most upper part of her leg, grinning as he watched her reaction. “You need lubricant inside your bottoms here to prevent chafing and irritation.” He pulled his hand out and continued to oil her down, now working beneath the knee after spritzing her generously with more oil. He let his thumb carelessly cross over her bikinied mons when he moved up her thigh again.

As if she were directing a slave, Alexxi gave Lance feedback on how she wanted to be touched; “Oh that’s it, right there… A little harder, please…” or chastised him verbally as she swatted lightly at his denim-covered legs with the riding crop when his hand touched the little patches of fabric covering her mons.

He laughed and confiscated the crop from her. Finished with the one leg, he smacked the sensitive inside of her thigh with the crop. It was a sharp, smarting blow, intended to incite, and even excite! “Let’s stretch the other leg now, Alexxi. We must use time efficiently.” He returned the crop to her.

She snatched back the riding crop and tossed her hair over her other shoulder, giving Geisha a playfully nasty look where she was being passionately, if clumsily, molested by her Prada-wearing manager. “Brave man,” she teased softly, dangling the whip over his back so that the little dangling star tickled along his spine. When he got to her bikini bottoms this time, she added on a sigh, “I don’t know whether to beat you or push myself into your hands.”

He finished with her other leg in the same fashion, and said, “Now your front. Lean back into the turnbuckle.”

Even as she moved to comply, she complained in a low, pouty voice, “You could at least say please while I’m holding the whip.” She smacked at his hip with it again, but missed as he backed away.

He stood back from her and aimed the oil bottle at her. Squeezing hard with both hands, he hosed her thoroughly from neck to bikini bottom, imparting a most lascivious sheen and cling to both the crocheted top and bottom of her scant bikini, until she was drenched with copious slatherings of the rich, viscous oil. He moved up to her and rubbed from her shoulders down around her bikini top and down her midriff and belly and waistband, smoothing the oil all over her supple flesh in the first pass of his hands. He then returned to her upper body, working her neck and shoulders and upper chest with his strong fingers, rubbing and massaging the oil in. Half of each perfectly orbed breast stood bare from the scant bikini top, the cleavage between them deep and rivered with dripping oil. He spared no caution in covering her exposed boobs with the palms of his hands and rubbing, massaging, kneading them with his fingers, boldly and insistently. His body leaned close to hers all the while. He ran both thumbs up and down the length of her cleavage like two eager little motorboats on a valley bottom river, for more time than was really necessary.

She cropped at his legs again as he violated the center of her breasts. He laughed and ignored her protests. His hands spent some quality time down below her tits, rubbing the oil up and down her torso in long, sweeping strokes.

When he was done with her front, she turned and spread her knees so that they were on the second rope on either side of the turnbuckle for him to do her back, then stood on that second rope and bent over to give him easy access to her legs as she turned to instruct. “Make sure you get lots of oil on my ass,” she was clearly enjoying the hell out of this; “You don’t want Geisha to get a good grip and rip my cheeks apart, do you?” The Brazilian thong left very little to the imagination.

“Ohhh, no, we don’t, do we?” he replied. He again snatched the crop from her hand and gave her a sound surprise whack on one ass cheek. He laughed at her reaction and moved up behind her, cupping and rubbing the reddened cheek with open hand. He leaned to her ear and whispered, “You don’t like me whupping your ass, do you?” as he finished with a wet lick behind her ear.

She yelped in surprise but recovered as she turned her ear into his mouth and let her weight fall back until she was against his chest, “It is little fun beating someone that enjoys it, don’t you think? I’d much rather break the unwilling…” Oh, and what fun it would be break him.

He again hosed her thoroughly and rubbed down her back and arms and leg backs vigorously. He playfully inserted the riding crop between her teeth when her jaw slackened, and gave her bum a swift single spank at the same time. “We save these beauties for the end,” he said. Haaaa! The ‘end’!”

He squirted oil all over her ass cheeks until it ran down her thighs and pooled at her feet. He massaged her lush tush with his long, strong fingers, the pads probing deeply into her taut flesh and down into her glutes. The curve of that sweet fine ass in his hands felt so arousing, so promising of things yet to come this night.

Though the rest of his massage had felt good - not that Alexxi often let her real feelings on anything show - his fingers digging into the large, deep muscles of her backside. She would have liked to arch into him; but she didn’t, biting her lower lip to stifle her instinctual moans as she pressed her forehead against the padded turnbuckle.

He squeezed both buns hard with his hands and whispered to her, “This ass is mine, baby,” he whispered. “Now, go out there and do me proud. Whup her ass!”

From kneeling on the ropes and the languor inducing massage, Alexxi could hardly stand. So she clung to the ropes and shook each of her feet in turn before turning to face her manager as she ran the tips of her index fingers along the legs of her bikini. God, he looked so much taller now that she was barefoot, his biceps almost as thick as her thighs, but more solid. Dragging her gaze from his bare chest slowly up to his eyes, she raised one brow and replied cheekily, “That’s the spirit… I want to hear you scream for me, lover…” before slipping past him to where Sully and Geisha were waiting on her.