The Ancient Wizard’s Labyrinth of Lust [closed, pm to join]

There were many legends about the Karmath the wizard. Some claimed he was of divine origin, son of the god of trickery and the goddess of love, some said his origin s were far more mundane, and his father the royal executioner, his mother the emperor’s concubine. Some even doubted that Karmath had ever really existed, and placed his story in the realm of superstition.

It must have been about five hundred years ago when he last was seen walking the earth. There were many stories about his powerful magic, and his great sexual appetite, of the sometimes conflicting tales some described him as sadistic, lecherous, manipulating, cruel, others as wise, charismatic, inventive, and generous.

All tales agreed though that in Karmath’s mighty tower a great wealth of magical artefacts were stored. Items of legendary power and value. The dream of every adventurer. Only a woman – so the legend said – would be able to enter this tower, and then make her way through the labyrinth of ordeals and challenges that surrounded the dark tower. These tests were said to be of the most imaginative nature and often of a rather painful or sexual kind, possibly even both at once.

Sadly though, the tower had never been found.

Not until now. It been dark days recently, evil had gained in strength and once proud and independent kingdoms had been destroyed and enslaved. In an age of oppression and despair, an age of darkness and slavery the people only dared to talk in whispers upon what had been discovered in some distant, hidden valley. A valley inaccessible until the recent spring, when a landslide had revealed a previously blocked passage. For some few, these new rumors were a much needed sign of hope. In a situation as dire as the current one, the powerful artifacts supposedly hidden in the wizard's tower could be what was needed to start the liberation of a downtrodden people.

The locals considered the valley taboo, and didn’t dare to even speak of it, so finding a guide into the valley was impossible. But once the hidden passage, a narrow and slippery crevice between two steep and windswept mountains, was found and mastered, the rest of the path was not much less hazardous, but much easier to find.

A path overgrown with the most resilient and thorny shrubbery lead to a huge black tower of phallic shape, rising high above the vegetation of the valley. Almost covered by bushes, mosses and weeds, the path was lined with ancient statues which at closer inspection all turned out to be of a rather obscene nature. There were solitary statues of men proudly displaying their enormous genitals, as well as of naked women, touching themselves in raving ecstasy. Getting closer to the dark walls that surrounded the tower, the statues now became group scenes, displaying various positions of amorous intermingling, with two, three or even more lovers involved. Some statues where of a crueler kind though, displaying scenes of floggings, contortion, chocking, or rape. But in each case the faces of those on the receiving end seemed to be twisted in lust as much as in pain, making them more seem like consensual submissives than like unwilling victims.

This was the path that ended at the rectangular wall surrounding the tower. What was behind the wall was impossible to see, but according to the tales, there surrounding the base of the tower was the wizard’s labyrinth, and only she who won the seven magic keys in the many ordeals and challenges to await her would be allowed to enter the tower.

There was a huge gate in the wall, a closed gate with a obsidian handle that was shaped like a massive manhood.

Isandra lived peace with her family for years. She always went with her father as he trained the guards of the castle. She often slipped away from home, skipping her duties as a woman under her mother's auspices to train with the guards. She was by no means an excellent fighter, but she was good enough to hold her own ground. It wasn't often, but when she was able to train with the soldiers, she won a few times, but lost much more.

On the one day that she ventured out into the wild alone with her best friend, disaster struck. Riding back to the village, she saw what happened to their once strong, but humble village. She saw rows of dismembered bodies of all the men of the village on stakes. The children were being cooked and the women enslaved. Houses were crushed and burned, and the fortifications, smashed.

Isandara almost rushed in if Saelma hadn't stopped her. If the men could not stop the hoard, how could she? It took a while to calm her down and Saelma had to push her to the ground to reason with her, but when she did saw reason, she calmed down, and, with a very heavy heart, decided to leave. She looked back vowing revenge--to stop the evil that was apparently spreading throughout the world.

In rage, both women vowed to look for the tower of Karmath as impossible as it was to find, according to everyone who sought it. And, if the legends were correct, it was dangerous. It was the only thing that could give them hope, especially since both of them were women. It meant that they could get in, take the thing that could defeat the evil and rid the world of them. In those travels she they found an elven quarterstaff and Isandra practiced with the weapon everyday, growing ever more proficient with the weapon, until she could single-handedly handle bandits without breaking a sweat. Two years of traveling and doing odd jobs in every village they came to and they haven't gotten any closer, until the day Saelma found a clue. They followed her lead and they saw the tip of the famed tower. The famed unmistakable tower.

They went back and gathered provisions and making sure that they were well-stocked and well-prepared. A local cleric who was passing through the same village they were in blessed both of them to make them both impervious to pain and injuries. He didn't believe that they found it, but he indulged their request nonetheless. Isandra took what's left of their money to buy a small leather armor barely covering her body.

Taking the elven quarterstaff, Isandra and Saelma headed for the tower, and because Saelma couldn't fight, she stayed to stand watch and come in to warn her should the need arise.

Isandra walked through the horrible menagerie of statues depicting the most grotesque acts done to a woman. She kept her head straight at the door, trying to ignore all of the depictions before her.

She reached the door and winced at the phallic doorknob, holding her breath in anticipation to what the tower holds as she held it in her hands to open the door..

A firm downward pressing of the phallic handle opened the gate and it slowly swung open, revealing a short dimly lit doorway, leading into a mosaic tiled room. There was a water basin in the center of the room, fresh water flowing into it from a well. A faint scent of roses seemed to emanate from the water, and indeed there were a few red petals floating on the surface. The tiles on the floor around it depicted various scenes of erotic encounters in the water, involving male and female humans as well as magical creatures like merfolk, dryads or nymphs

On the wall opposite the entrance there was the mosaic of a tall man who seemed to be in his mid thirties. Clad in red wizard robes, holding a magic staff, he stood proudly. Even though his build was rather slender, his facial features were stern and masculine, long brown hair and goatee framing his face, his dark eyes centered on the entrance.

On the walls left and right of the entrance there was a door each and there seemed to be mosaics too, but it was impossible to have a clear look at them without stepping fully into the room. This though, seemed harder than expected. For even though there was no visible barrier, something seemed to block her way as Isandara tried to set foot into the first room of the labyrinth.

The invisible barrier was firm and seemed impossible to penetrate. But suddenly a deep, masculine voice was heard, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “Who are you stranger? And what leads you to my tower?”

Isandra stepped back a little her hands on guard ready for a fight, but there was nothing there. She waited a few more moments before finally deciding that there was no ambush, but a girl couldn't be too careful.

She stepped inside, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her hand held the quarterstaff ready for anything that might jump out of the shadows as her feet gingerly took one slow step after another. Her eyes scanned the entire building and aside from the horrid scenes of sexual depravity, it was beautiful in an eerie sort of way. She had to admit though, the sculptures from both the outside and the inside were brilliantly made as nasty as they looked.

Perhaps it was true. He was more sadistic and lecherous than he was a sage anyone could count on. But he was powerful. Very much so. And they needed that power now if she wanted to be able to exact her revenge and, if possible, rid the land of the creeping darkness.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the halls until she hit something. Isandra couldn't see what it was but it was certainly blocking her way. She pushed at it with one hand but it didn't give. She hit it with the quarterstaff and still, it remained. She looked around trying to look for a way to switch it off, but a voice stopped her.

"My name is Isandra of the Eldana Valley," she said loudly looking around trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. "My village was destroyed by the evil plague we thought was vanquished long ago. And since then, many other villages and kingdoms had been destroyed. I come to seek the weapon to destroy them once and for all! Please, grant me access before it's too late for the entire world."

“A powerful weapon only belongs in worthy hands”, the voice replied to the young woman’s statement. “Prepare to be tested”. The invisible barrier now all of the sudden was gone, no longer blocking her path.

The room that awaited her seemed so serene and peaceful, the water flowing from the well into the pool the only other sound apart from her steps. The scent of roses became a bit stronger as she advanced towards the water.

Now it was possible to have a clear view of the mosaics on the sides too. On the left hand side there were two mosaics next to the door. One depicting a woman wrestling with a man, both of them naked, while another naked woman holding a whip stood nearby. The other mosaic on the left hand side depicted a similar scene, but this time it was two woman wrestling and it was a man holding the whip.

The mosaic was surprisingly detailed, The wrestlers in each of the scenes looked attractive and athletic, and completely absorbed in their fight, their faces showing how strenuous their activity was, how determined they were to defeat their opponent.

On the right hand side the door was surrounded by mosaics too, but those were of a different nature. They showed a woman crawling on her hands and feet through a narrow tunnel that seemed be lined with obstacles and traps of various natures. Unfortunately the depiction of the obstacles on the mosaic wasn’t very detailed, as if the creator of the mosaic didn’t want to give away what was awaiting the one who went through this door.

As the barrier faded, Isandra's grip on her staff grew tighter. She approached the doors, she took a good look at them, knowing that the images on the doors revealed the trials she would have to face. The serenity of the hall wouldn't last. Soon, she would be plunged into chaos.

Looking at all the three images, she wanted to see a match between a man and a woman. She, herself had gotten to the point where she could go toe-to-toe with a man, but that was with a quarterstaff. Pure hand-to-hand combat though, was another matter. She didn't know what the woman with the whip was for, but it meant something. The other door had the roles reversed--with the women wrestling and the man holding the whip. Honestly, a guy with a whip scared her a bit. She pursed her lips, not liking the fact that all of them were naked. Did it mean she had to get naked as well? She shook her head. Being naked could cripple her fighting ability by making her conscious of her body.

The third image was on the second door. It felt like a better choice because it didn't picture a naked woman. But what deterred her was that she had no idea what was in store for her. It could be anything at all and she didn't prepare much aside from her water, a bit of food and her staff.

She closed her eyes and gripped her staff. Fighting was her strength and she knew she had a better chance there than dodging traps she had no idea about. She walked over to the door with the fighting scene and held her breath as she stared at the images before opening the door.

The door on the left was easily opened. It lead into a room that looked quite different from the previous one. It had grey stone floors and its walls were painted in many scenes of wrestling and other forms of unarmed combat. In all these scenes the contestants were naked, and their bodies seemed to be glistening with oil. Again some scenes depicted fights in which a woman fought against a man, and scenes in which two women fought each other.

The room was illuminated by the flickering light of torches which were held by rings on the walls. In the middle of the room was a ring which borders were lined with tiles of a stone that was lighter in color. Sandstone possibly. The ring itself was filled with sand.

On either side of the ring there was a metal cage of about seven feet height. In the cage on the left was a tall, muscular man, with dark skin and a head that was shaven bold. He was wearing nothing but a loincloth. In the cage on the right was a woman with dark blonde hair tied into a pony tail, and tanned skin, her body lean but athletic. Both stood perfectly still and perfectly upright, looking almost more like statues than like living human beings. Both cages seemed not to be locked at all.

Behind the ring was a ceramic amphora filled with some fluid that was difficult to distinguish from afar. Next to the amphora stood a chair on which a long cruel looking whip rested. At the very end of the room there was a heavy red curtain, covering the whole rear wall of the room. There was a faint smell of sweat and of olive oil in the room, but it wasn’t strong enough to be obnoxious.

With the two humans in the cages standing perfectly still, the only thing moving in this room beside Isandra, was the flickering light of the torches. But even that became much more regular as soon as the door closed heavily behind her.

Isandra's head whipped back as the door shut behind her, sealing her in the room she chose. She looked around and found no other possible point of exit other than the one she came from. She tested the door from where she came and found it unmoving. Of course, she had to finish whatever trial was in this room.

Taking a deep breath, and wrinkling her nose as the smells reached her, she moved toward the ring, gripping her staff and her small satchel of provisions and walked gingerly past the cage of both the man and the woman. She couldn't help but stare at them both as she passed. If she had to fight them both, she didn't know if she could win, but fighting them one at a time could be very taxing. If she won one, she might not win the other due to sheer exhaustion. She hoped she only needed to fight one.

How to wake them though, she didn't know.

She moved past them and over to where the objects were, she moved first to the amphora to try to see what was inside it. But with only the light of the torches around her, she still wasn't sure, so she dipped her finger in it, touching the liquid to sate her curiosity before moving on to the curtains. She swept them open to see what was behind them.

The amphora was filled with a thick, clear, slightly greenish fluid - olive oil. It seemed it was meant for the contestants in this ancient wrestling ring, to oil their bodies before beginning a match. It seemed to be fresh and of good quality.

The curtain on the end of the room was heavy and not easy to pull a away. It almost felled as if it was resisting Isandra’s attempt to pull it. Once it was pulled back though it revealed a heavy stone door, which was shut. Next to the door was a relief sculpted into the stone, depicting a short, stocky man with a long beard – a dwarf it seems – standing in front of a a rack of various weapons. The dwarf was clad in an apron made of what seemed to be made of leather – the typical apron of a blacksmith. He was wearing heavy leather gloves, and his stone gaze seemed stern and determined.

A closer look would reveal, that some of the weapons had rather odd shaped, as there where long shafted weapons with balls, wheels, blunt hooks, cones or cylinders at the end. Strangely none of the weapons seemed to be bladed. There seemed to be no way though to open up the door that lead to the room. Either magic or a strong mechanism held the heavy door perfectly closed no matter what a would be intruder might try.

Behind Isandra the two naked figures in their cages still stood perfectly still, not even moving during the time it had took her to move the heavy carpet. As their cages weren’t locked it should have been rather easy for them to just walk out, but they made no attempt at all, not even the slightest hint of movement.

Isandra sat in the chair for a while, setting aside her staff as she tried to figure out the room. She thought on the figures and depictions and sighed. It said the trial was wrestling--with oil, apparently--and the combatants were there, unmoving. She stood and took the amphora, heading to the female's cage and opened the door to pour the oil on her, the turned to the man's cage and did the same. Part of her hoped that they would be fighting one another, but that didn't seem like it would be a trial.

As the last drop of oil dropped on the man's body, she stepped back, waiting for anything to happen.

When the door of each cage was opened, and the oil poured upon the athletic, muscular bodies inside, the stasis was broken. Suddenly both people opened their eyes, blinkingly at first, shaking their muscles a little, like someone awakening from a long slumber. Then they stepped forward, towards Isandra.

“You have chosen this challenge”, the man spoke looking straight at, Isandra “now you must chose your opponent. “ Meanwhile the woman moved out of the cage with catlike grace, her eyes already studying her potential opponent.

“Once you have done so, you will undress and oil up to get ready to fight”, the man spoke, now starting to rub the oil Isandra had poured on him into his dark skin. The woman was doing the same, as she prepared herself for the possible upcoming fight.

“The one you do not chose will be the referee, and use the whip to enforce the rules.” The male wrestler continued, speaking in a relaxed baritone voice that was full of confidence. The oil made his muscles glisten impressively in the torchlight, every movement he made bringing another part of toned flesh into focus.

Even though Isandra had sprinkled all of the oil upon the two wrestlers, the amphora now was already full again, as if no oil at all had been spent.

"Oil? But..." The words died on her lips as the amphora suddenly felt heavy again. She looked at it and was surprised to find it full again. Then again, the place was magic, she shouldn't be surprised by those little tricks.

Sighing, she knew she couldn't get out of the room without playing by the rules. She didn't want to undress but there was nothing much she could do. Tentatively, she stripped down starting with her shoes, then her shoulder armor before moving to her leather leg wraps then her thigh-high stocking. For a moment, she paused and took a deep breath before removing her leather clothing and like them, she was naked.

She put her arms around herself feeling self-conscious as she made her decision. She knew that a woman was always going to be weaker, but she had barely fought against a woman before, and she knew knowing the enemy was half the battle. She was used to fighting men and winning against them, from her father's soldiers to bandits. She knew how they moved and attacked. From there it was easy to choose her opponent.

Pouring the oil on her body, she nodded to the man. "You. I will fight you. But tell me, what happens to the winner and the loser? How are they determined? What are the rules?" Gingerly, she rubbed the oil on her body with quick passes on her skin, making her ample breasts and her bubbly ass jiggle as they were the only parts of her body not tight and toned.

The two athletes watched the young woman in silently as she undressed and then oiled herself up, their gazes devoid of lewdness but also devoid of the polite discretion of looking away in such a situation. It seemed they were assessing their potential opponent even as she undressed before them, studying the build of her body, the strength of her muscles, the flexibility of her limbs.

As Isandra chose the man, he bowed his head before her lightly, while the woman stepped away to reach for the whip. Whip in hand, she replied now. “I am the referee so it is up to me to set the rules”, she said, glaring at the two other people in the room with a hint of cruelty in her catlike green eyes.

“If you win, you may advance to the door behind the curtain. And he…” she used the whip to point at the hulking male, “… goes back to his cage. If he wins..” smiling, she stepped closer to Isandra now. “… he will have his way with you. And then goes back to his cage. While you will leave through the door you came in through. And don’t worry we’ll drag you out if you won’t be able to walk on your own feet after he’s done with you.” The female fighter now let her sharp fingernails slowly run over the biceps of the male, his upper arm thicker than Isandra’s thigh.

“Oh and about the rules. Those are simple. No kicks or punches to the face. No stepping out of the ring. No killing your opponent. If you kick or punch your opponents face I will give you five lashes.” She smacked the whip upon the ground. “If you step out of the ring, I’ll whip you back into it. If you kill your opponent you lose. You win if the foe surrenders, or you bring them down on the ground thrice. For a throw to count both shoulders have to be on the ground, and your foot in the opponents crotch.”

The woman paused for a moment, then let her green eyes gaze fall upon each combatant. The man now removed his loincloth and stepped into the ring slowly, his massive manhood now exposed to the view of the two women.

Isandra listened. The rules were pretty straightforward but there were some things that made her want to back out of the challenge. One, if she lost, he would have his way with her? Not if she could help that! Even if she did lose, she wasn't going to let him just have his way with her. And second, to win, she had to put her foot on his crotch? And he would have to step on hers? A tingling feeling coursed through her body at the thought.

She looked at him as he removed his loincloth and she gasped at the size of him. Everything about the man was huge, and unlike her, he was confident. While he might have been wrestling naked for most, if not all, his life, it was her first time to be both naked and wrestling, but she figured that the fight would be just like any other. If she could hit him in the solar plexus, he would crumple, just like any other human and she had to avoid getting hit. Even with the cleric's help to remove pain and injuries from her, she still didn't want to find out what it feels like to be hit. It has to feel something else if it didn't hurt.

She stepped into the ring with him, assessing him. His size and bulk would make him slow. She could use that to her advantage. It was a little awkward getting into her stance to have her feet planted wide apart, as naked as she was, but she did, waiting for him to make the first move to respond in kind and, as was her strategy, to counter and turn the tide in her favor.

Dark eyes measured Isandra. Her opponent stood there, slowly rolling his shoulders as he watched her enter the ring. He flexed the muscles in his strong arms, then his fingers, still standing there, watching her with a disinterested gaze of half-closed eyes, as if he had endless time on his hand for prepare. There seemed to be no rush at all to attack and start this bout.

Then suddenly the woman who had taken the position of the referee cracked the whip on the stone floor, signalling the start of the match. And within a moment the hulking fighter who had seem so calm, almost sleepy, let out a thundering roar of primal, savage lust for battle.

Like a tiger upon his prey, he pounced upon her, his powerful legs catapulting his hulking body surprisingly high into the air, his arms reaching forward to grapple her and pull her down. It seemed almost impossible for a human to jump that high, leap forward that fast without even a running start.

Isandra thought she was ready for anything, but as the man launched himself at her, she quickly realized that she was not dealing with an ordinary man. He moved as fierce as as quick as cat. She barely had time to react especially since she was still very conscious about her state of undress.

She felt him slam into her, but years of experience against stronger opponents took over as her as she cushioned her fall. His mass and the impact winded her as her back hit the floor, stunning her for a moment. But a moment was all the man--any combatant--really needed to gain an upper hand. She shook her head to gather herself, only to find herself held by her powerful opponent.

Isandra needed to act quickly and soon. Otherwise, she had to count on the second round to rebound, and she was not a person who liked to take her chances.

Having torn his opponent of her feet with his mighty pounce, the ebon skinned wrestler held her down on the sand covered ground with his weight, his huge hands on her upper arms. His muscular body pressed down on Isandra’s, his weight shifting with her every movement to keep her down on the ground.

Even though he was physically so much stronger than his opponent, he seemed to take the fight very serious, and was to determined not to give her a chance to break free and get the upper hand in this fight.

She could feel his breath now as his face was so close to his, his dark eyes burning with ferocity. Suddenly he pushed his left knee forward, to knee her in the crotch, trying to weaken her, to wear her down by hitting such a sensitive spot, as he of course was yet unaware of the protective spells that were upon her.

Isandra squirmed under him. His massive body and tight grip on her prevented her from doing much else. She arched her back trying to push him off to no avail. She tried to kick or kneed him in the sides, but she didn't have enough leverage and all she could do was brush her leg along his body. She tried to free her arms but his grip was like vise. Trapped under him, she felt helpless, and strangely aroused with her skin rubbing against his. She fought the feeling as she tried to rouse herself with anger, growling as he put his face so near hers.

But that proximity was one thing she could exploit. She had one more way to fight him, and that was largely unhindered. She opened her mouth to bite his face, but a sudden shock of pleasure landed through her body making her cry out instead.

Her pussy throbbed where his knee met her quickly dampening crotch. She moaned as the initial shock passed, quickly feeling the effects of the pleasurable assault. It should have hurt like he'll. Her battle sense told her that she should be curling up in pain, not wanting another strike.

Then she remembered the spell. It deadened her senses to pain, but of course, even magic can't justice something disappear. There is always a replacement. And it seemed like the cleric heightened her sense of pleasure. She tried to fight it, force down her arousal, but at the same time she was becoming more and more aware of the change in her body.

In a last ditch attempt, she howled and threw her head forward to headbutt him. She didn't feel pain, but her brain shook enough to spin for a moment, but she quickly recovered. Using the oil, she slipped out of his grasp. Now that she knew how he moved, she was more ready for him, butt the same time, she was all too aware of her new vulnerability. Pain she could push past after fighting for so long. This...she didn't know if she could resist for long.

Taking no chances, she moved to try amd finish the fight as quickly as possible reaching out for his neck for a headlock.

It might have been her reaction that had caught him by surprise, the lustful moan were a howl of pain would have been expected when he kneed her in the crotch. She had used that moment of surprise to headbutt him. For a moment all was black, but then he blinked his eyes to see the room spinning around him, and he began to rise to his legs slowly, too slowly.

Before he could properly defend himself, he was caught in a headlock. The imminent danger made him come to his senses again. Instinctively he tucked his chin to make it harder for her to cut off his air supply. One hand went to her interlocked hands that strangled him and with all his force he pulled them down. If he could not break her grip on his neck, he’d at least be able to loosen it.

His arm he used to steady himself into a better position, with both his feet firmly pressed into the sandy ground. Then suddenly he elbowed her hard in the crotch. This time her reaction would not surprise him and he wasted no time to reach back for her hair with his other hand, pulling back her head while he tried to break from her grip and rise to a standing position again.

Isandra kept her hold tight on his neck, the oil was slippery enough for him to get a little leverage to breathe. She was straining to hold him, her muscles shaking under the strain. It took most of her strength to hold him in her grasp that she couldn't stop him from standing up and gaining leverage. But even if she did have her full strength, his mass and strength would be more than enough to toss her around like a rag doll.

She tried to keep herself grounded well, her legs open wide to keep herself balanced, but as she did so, his elbow met her pussy and she screamed turning into a low groan, letting go of him as her legs buckled. She put her hands on her crotch feeling aroused to her very core. She felt wetness as her pussy leaked onto her hands.


It took all of her willpower not to rub herself with her fingers, as she knelt on the floor. Her breathing was ragged and deep, less from the exertion, and more from the arousal. She felt like a man's shaft just slammed into her several times taking her near the point of orgasm. She moaned again feeling her hands touching her sensitive crotch that only emphasized the feeling.

Before her knees dropped to the floor, she felt her head yanked up by her hair and felt a few strands being pulled out. She groaned as her hands flew to her head trying to pry his fingers off her hair, but it was tangled in his grip and she couldn't break free. Pulling away made her strain her neck. Her throbbing pussy also made it difficult to fight. All she wanted was to lay down and let the feeling pass, but she doubted the man would let her.

No more wrestling. Besides, punching and kicking was her forte anyway, second only to her skills in the quarterstaff. With all her might she aimed a kick right at the man's neck, still a legal move, but barely, forgetting that she was naked, exposed, and her body hot, her pussy wet and quivering.

Her reaction to his low blow was really quite peculiar and even in the midst of the heated battle the male wrestler didn’t fail to notice how incredibly aroused the woman he was fighting was. A vicious little grin appeared on his lips. Of course he would try to exploit this strange weakness, this extreme reaction to his attacks. Yet, even though he was all focussed on the fighting, on defeating his opponent, he couldn’t help but feel his manhood harden.

He did not allow this arousal to distract him though. He swift kick to his neck was blocked by his strong arm. Unlike her he felt the pain though, as her powerful kick almost shattered his radius bone. But he was well trained though in not letting the pain hamper him in his fighting ability.

Her kick left her crotch unprotected for a moment, and knowing about her weakness now, he tried to exploit it, attempting to planted his foot right upon her most vulnerable spot, while his hand gripped for her leg, to gain a hold of it before she could pull back. It certainly wasn’t a gentlemanly approach to try to win a fight against a female by continuous strikes at her most feminine region, but this fighter was determined on using every advantage he had to win this bout.

Even though he and his female counterpart looked like humans, felt pain like humans and bled like humans, they were not exactly human. They were magical creations of the wizard Karmath, powerful homunculi created only for one purpose, to fight and defeat their opponent in this challenge. No mercy or sympathy could be expected from them.

He took the bait! She knew that he would follow-up with another kick to her crotch, but she was ready for him. It was time to put her weakness to her advantage.

Isandra dodged the kick and held onto his wrist using most of her weight and his lack of balance from his kick hoping to topple him over as she jumped to get her free leg between their interlocking limbs to catch on his neck. Twisting, she bent her knee to lock his head between her thigh and her calf, roaring as she squeezed tighter.

The man was strong. Far stronger than any other she had ever faced, but he was not a god. He can make mistakes and that could help her win.

She tricked him! Before the fighter even realized it, he was down on the sand again, pulled down when he had tried to kick her. His head locked by her leg, squeezed like a lemon in her relentless grip.

He groaned out in pain and anger, mad at himself for taking her bait that easily. Now though he had keep calm, wildly struggling to break free of her hold would only make him pass out faster. Thus he shifted his head just enough to still have room to breathe.

Before he could get his head free, he had to get his arms under her and lock his hands together in a double under pass. She couldn’t keep on this hold forever without her muscles tiring just for a moment. But he knew he only had that one moment, if he didn’t use it the fight was lost. His hands around her, he pushed his legs up to her shoulders, his feet pressed into the sand to get up, lifting her lower body up with him.

Isandra could feel the pressure the man was experiencing. Despite his advantages in a fight, she was winning. She tried to follow as he adjusted his head, but wasn't able to get to him in time, loosening her thigh-and-calf grip on his head a little. In response, she twisted her body and brought her other leg up to his head to increase her hold on him.

She ignored her tenuous position--his head between her thighs, so near to her glistening, wet center. She ignored the screaming demands of her body to feel more pleasure. To satiate her untouched body, the tingle of her skin and the throbbing of her pussy and her breasts. His skin on hers. His heat and sweat mingling with her own. His breath caressing her. She growled willing herself to push them away and concentrate on squeezing his head.

Her desires distratced her so much, that she didn't notice him shifting positions. It wasn't until she felt her ass being lifted from the ground that she knew she was in trouble. Her eyes widened as he pushed, her tenuous grip on his head loosening even further in her position. She tried to scramble back and reset, knowing she'd be in trouble if she didn't, but he already had the upper hand, only ending up scraping the sandy floor with her hands. She couldn't push him with her feet with her legs above his shoulders, nor could she try to roll over and recover quickly folded over and lifted the way she was. Any change in position would only result in disaster. All she could do was hope he passes out. But her thighs trembled, her muscles tired, her angle loosing her strength. She cursed, unable to do anything.