Oscar’s hands choked the life out of Emilio. Estefan watched the two closely from a few feet away, ready to halt the contest at the first sign that Emilio has lost consciousness which Estefan felt might be any second now. Emilio was on the flat of his back and Oscar was seated on his chest. Oscar had “fully mounted” Emilio, to put it in the language of grappling. Oscar’s hands were crossed over Emilio’s neck. Each hand had grabbed Emilio’s grappling gi and they were pulling the cloth into Emilio’s neck to choke him.
“Don’t give up, Emilio!” shouted his beloved Ana from the crowd watching the fight.
All Emilio could see was Oscar’s leering face hovering over him as he struggled to breath and stay conscious. Emilio’s mind was in a state of panic at his lack of oxygen, but the words of Ana reached him in his desperation. He steeled himself as he rolled to his left side, pulling Oscar in so that he could connect with his right elbow to Oscar’s jaw. The blow dazed Oscar and Emilo was able to buck him off.
The crowd roared, but none louder than Ana as Emilio took advantage of Oscar’s situation and pushed Oscar off of him. Both attempted to scramble to their feet, but Emilio got there first. He placed his hands behind Oscar’s head as Oscar struggled to stand to guide it into Emilio’s kneecap. Oscar saw Emilio’s knee, then nothing at all.
“Se acabõ” shouted Estefan who stepped towards the competitors. “You’ve won.”
Emilio couldn’t believe it, but the crowd must have judging by their enthusiastic response. Ana rushed down to Emilio’s corner of the octagon. “Te amo – I love you” she screamed enthusiastically. Estefan opened the door to the competitive arena to allow Ana inside. She threw her arms around Emilio oblivious to the sweat and blood that drenched him. She showered him with kisses as he picked her up in his arms.
Consuela Morales, the 26 year-old woman for whom this entire contest was staged, stood from her elevated seat overlooking the match. Consuela looked as though she were dressed for a day at the races; her voluptuous body concealed behind a long black dress complete with matching gloves and large hat. “I’ll take both of them,” she called down to Estafan who turned to meet her her gaze. “Have them report to the compound tomorrow.”
Estefan bowed to Consuela. “Si Señorita Morales. Mañana.”
Consuela nodded to Estefan, and turned to leave.
Emilio was oblivious to everything except the woman in his arms. “Let’s go celebrate,” he said as he carried her from the octagon.
Estefan walked over to Oscar to see about reviving him, but his eyes were drawn to the happy couple as they departed. Their love seems as close to true love as he had ever seen in this corrupt drug town. He caught himself hoping that their innocence might endure, but he knew better. No one remains innocent for long in the employ of La Patrona. Still, Estefan had known Emilio since he was a boy. He had taught him to fight and felt that if anyone had a chance of surviving, it was him.
Ana scrubbed Emilio’s back gingerly with a soapy wash cloth. She was mindful of all the obvious bruises but still eager to ensure that she was not hurting her beloved. “Does it hurt?” she asked.
Emilio’s face was to the shower who’s pathetic stream barely covered his naked body, much less the naked body of Ana standing behind him. “You’re helping it to feel better,” said Emilio. His body ached in several places from the fight, but victory has a funny way of overriding pain.
“And I know something else you can help to feel better,” Emilio said turning to her.
Ana looked down at Emilio’s member which was beginning to swell in anticipation. She backed away. “I guess you deserve a reward for winning the fight,” she said as she stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. “I’ll be waiting for you in the bedroom after you dry off.”
Emilio enjoyed the thought that his beloved lay for him in the next room. He felt like the warm water that streamed out of the shower was victory itself. For that victory, he had worked harder than for anything in his life and he wanted to stand in that moment forever. He had conquered Oscar in the octagon and now he would conquer his beloved once and for all. Or so he hoped. Ana’s virginity was special to her and after six months of dating, they both remained virgins.
The hot water having run out, Emilio stepped from the shower. He toweled off and stepping into the bedroom.
Ana knelt before one of the Virgin Mary’s many statues. He noticed that she had lit yet another candle. She finished murmuring a prayer, crossed herself, stood up, and went to lay on the bed. Emilio was not far behind.
“Once I get started at the Morales compound, we’ll have enough money to get married and raise a family,” he said.
Ana smiled and nodded in response.
“So I was thinking… you know.”
Ana shook her head. “Emilio, I’m so happy that I am to be your wife, but you know how important my faith is to me. We have to save ourselves for our wedding night.” Ana pushed Emilio onto his back as her hand grouped him. “Still I will make it special for you.”
Emilio spread his legs for Ana as she moved between them. His cock grew rigid in her hands and she lightly blew over the head. She smiled up at Emilio.
“Oh baby. Thank you.” He looked down on her and bathed in her adoration. Unfortunately, for him, her adoration did not translate to enthusiasm at her task. Ana clumsy put her mouth down over the head of his penis and began the perfunctory back and forth motion. Emilio closed his eyes and conjured a vision to help himself build to orgasm. He imagined Ana a bit older and more experienced as she must be after they got married. More confident. Self-assured. More like… Consuela.
Ana increased the speed of her stroke as she attempted to speed Emilio to his destination. He secretly aided her in this effort by fantasizing about Consuela. She was in the her mid 20s and yet her family ran the entire town. Everyone in the town moved to the snap of her fingers, even Estefan his fight instructor. A man who never bowed to any man, and yet, anything Consuela wanted prompted Estefan to snap to attention. Such power held in such a small, but beautiful frame.
He was going to work for Consuela tomorrow. Of that he was sure. And he felt he would have her. In his fantasy she was so moved by his performance in the octagon that she would simply have to sexually submit to such raw masculine power. Surely her sexuality was more primal and uninhibited than poor Ana. Her tits far larger too. She envisioned what a blow job from her would be like.
Ana continued to work her head up and down the shaft of his manhood, but what really excited Emilio was the fantasy that soon Consuela would be doing the same. He envisioned her staring into his eyes as her hand and mouth sent waves of pleasure over him. He had never had any kind of sex with such a strong confident woman and his mind ran wild with the possibilities. In his fantasy Consuela brazenly opened her blouse and expose her beautiful full breasts. She would periodically take breaks from her task of bringing him to orgasm to enhance the experience for him by rubbing the glistening head of his cock against one of her nipples. She looked into his eyes and knew how in love with her breasts he was, so with no hesitation she shamelessly spit into the opening of her cleavage before before taking his cock between her magnificent tits.
“Do you like?” she asked him as she pressed her tits together to make a tight sandwich of soft, delicious flesh that his cock slide effortlessly between.
“Oh yes,” he cried out. “I’m coming.”
Ana quickly withdrew her mouth from the head of his cock. “Oh yes, my darling, come for me,” she said as she worked her hand over the head of his penis to send him over the edge. And he did come all over her hand, but, in his mind, it was all over Consuela’s tits.
As the orgasm washed over him, Emilio immediately felt shame for his fantasy. He looked up into Ana’s expectant eyes.
“Was it good?” she asked.
Emilio nodded. “You’re the best a man could ever hope for.”
Ana blushed. “Thank you,” she said as she moved to lay beside him.
“It’s your turn,” Emilio said.
“That’s alright,” said Ana. “Today is your day.”
Emilio felt a pang of guilt as he accepted Ana’s offer to not reciprocate, but then quickly justified his actions to himself. “I am the victor, and to the victory go the spoils.” He imagined his cum running over Consuela’s tits. A man deserved to soil a massive pair of tits like that. Spoils indeed.
Read part two here.
Mister P enjoys writing erotica, discussing politics, manufacturing queening stools, and counseling submissive men on the unique challenges they face. He and his wife Mistress Roulette host the Diary of a Dominatrix Podcast. Mister P is also the maker of the Queening Stool.