The Cave 6: Thunder Strikes

I strut into the arena, feeling better than I have in a couple of weeks. Yep, I feel good. I'm pretty much 100%, physically and I've successfully compartmentalized my personal situation, focusing on the future, not the past. I've impressed myself by being surprisingly resilient.

My name is Cody, I'm a 27-year old personal trainer by day and underground wrestler by night. I wrestle for an adult wrestling video company called The Cave. In addition to being talent, I founded and own The Cave with my ex-buddy Ryan, who actually runs every aspect of the business. I say ex-buddy because Ryan hates me at the moment. His anger has been expressed through four big (in-ring) beatings, one public unmasking, one change of (in-ring) identity, three fuckings and a lot of general pain and humiliation.

I caused this and I want to fix things. Since I've been the dominant friend for almost 18 years, I'm trying to smooth things over by letting him control me for a change. So far, my brilliant strategy has resulted in me becoming the Pink Punk, my new uber-jobber ring persona. The Pink Punk's record isn't good, as he's been the victim in two complete and embarrassing squashes so far. Now, a week later, I'm back at The Cave for more.

I didn't speak with Ryan all week, deciding to be casual and continue to let him appreciate a new passive Cody who respects him. The only communication I received were two texts. On Sunday, I was ordered not to jerk off or have sex all week, which is almost like asking me not to breathe. On Wednesday, Ryan ordered me, via text, to be dressed, in the locker room and ready for instructions at 2pm Sunday. So here I am, putting on my pink thong, trunks and mask, my white socks and pro boots and reporting as ordered.

Me (Cody) in my Pink Punk gear

As I wait for Ryan, I review our downloads, memberships and DVD sales. The Cave is booming, as we've capitalized on the massive momentum Ryan's revenge created. We can't quit our day jobs, but we're finally on the map. Bane (Ryan) vs. The Bat (me) still has the blogosphere buzzing. Now, we're learning that muscle jobbers like the Pink Punk are also a huge draw, especially since it took all of two seconds for people to realize that The Bat and Pink Punk are the same guy. Not totally surprising, since Cave's loyal fans probably know my body better than I do. Only one of my Pink Punk matches from last week has been posted, but fans were quickly applauding the change of pace and my new role. Some even correctly guessed this was The Bat's punishment for losing to Bane. They think it's a work, but it's weird how some of my reality is in my storyline.

It turns out, I'm pretty good in my jobber role, thanks to my years of wrestling experience and hours spent watching the greatest jobbers in history, like Danny Chase, Rex Taylor, Brett Gunn, etc. As I said, so far, the Pink Punk has been the victim in total squash matches. Ryan has made sure that. Obviously that's not interesting or sustainable long-term, but it's part of his overwhelming desire to punish and humiliate me. I consider it part of the healing process for our relationship.

As for today, I'm here, on-time, in gear and ready for action. Let's find Ryan and see what's in store for the Pink Punk.

Introducing Thunder

It’s almost an hour later and I'm waiting patiently in the ring for my next opponent. I've done all my stretching and thought through the match. My 6'0"/215-lbs body is primed and my muscles are pumped to put on another good show. Ryan and his buddy Pete have the stationary cameras going and they're each operating handhelds to get up close to all the action from various angles.

Ryan introduces my opponent, announcing "Weighing in at 240-lbs, here is THUNDER!"

Thunder, my big opponent

From behind the curtain, Thunder emerges. He runs to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope like a pro. He hops up and raises his arms. I’m struck by his size and looks. Thunder is only an inch shorter than me. At 240-lbs, he’s bigger than me, but not nearly as powerful looking as my other large-scale opponents. He’s got less muscle than Bane and less girth than Pete. Thunder does have a nice beefy look, but I probably have more muscle. He looks a little soft, especially around the midsection. Thunder’s red trunks are tight, cutting well below his ample waist and high up his thick legs. I can see the outline of his average-sized cut cock (yes, I can tell – that’s how tight his trunks are) and his average balls cupped in the red spandex.

As stretches out opposite me, I casually flex, showing off for Thunder and the cameras, letting him see what a little work in the gym can do. I bounce my pecs and smirk, inviting him to show me what he's got. In response, he strikes a double bicep pose, impressing me with his beef. We stare each other down, moving in close, bumping torsos. Our cocks grow, as I feel them touching through our spandex.

From what I can see, Thunder is a good-looking guy and his eyes are deep and penetrating. I feel his hot breath on my face. Fuck, I'm ridiculously horny after this week of celibacy. I want to kiss him, there’s that kind of heat between us. But wrestling comes first. Thunder’s mask and trunks are coordinated, mostly red with a yellow design. His gear has a lightning bolt motif, which begs a question.

I ask, with some snark, "So, dude, if your name is Thunder, why the fuck are you wearing lightning?"

Before I realize it, a fist comes up at my face. Thunder delivers the upper cut and I am knocked for a loop, falling into the ropes. He saunters up confidently, grabs my hair and forces my head back. He looks me dead in the eye and I’m unmoving.

“That was lightning. Now comes the thunder.” Thunder casually says, "Boom!" as he brings his knee up hard, between my legs into my bulging pouch. OOF! I grunt and my legs go weak from the sudden and unexpected impact to my balls. The heel backs off and spreads his arms, as though somehow his point was proven.

“You can expect a lot more thunder, you punk ass bitch.” My cock stirs again at the sight of this confident, arrogant slab of beef. Woof.

Ryan rings the bell and the match is set to begin.

Pink Punk vs. Thunder: Round One

I adjust my pink pouch and circle warily. I got sucker punched once, no need for that to happen again. I’m still not sure I get why he’s not “Lightning”, but I’m not going to risk asking again.

We lock up in a collar-and-elbow. Despite his weight advantage, I manage to push Thunder back into the ropes. I lift my knee into his soft stomach. He grunts and I whip him across the ring. I swing for a clothesline, but he ducks. When I turn around, Thunder is already ricocheting off the ropes and slams into me with a shoulder block.

I crash down and it seems like this will be a repeat of my private match with Pete – big man uses his weight advantage to squash me. However, Thunder is no 300-lbs plus Pete and I’m in perfect condition. When Thunder leaps into the air to drop an elbow across my chest, I easily roll out of the way. Thunder’s elbow hits nothing but canvas.

I move in quickly, grabbing his sore arm and twisting. I crank on the armbar, trying to keep Thunder on the mat and in control. With his arm secured, I slam a forearm down on his bicep then another. I go back to twisting and cranking. I take the opportunity and reach one hand down. I massage his beefy pec then punch it hard twice. I rest my hand on the muscle and admire the view of this big stud on the mat under my control.

Thunder rolls to his knees then manages to roll up, forcing us to our feet. As he tries to maneuver out of the armbar, I roll under his arm and twist it behind him. I wrench his hand up his back, controlling Thunder as he struggles. I move in close, really cranking on the pressure. Thunder swings his free arm back, aiming his elbow for my head, but I’m ready for this obvious counter.

I duck the incoming elbow, release his arm and grab him around the waist. I lift up, pressing Thunder’s 240-lbs into the air, over my shoulder in a belly-to-back suplex. The big guy crashes down hard on his shoulders. I bridge my hips up and count the pin. “ONE!” Pause. “TWO!” Thunder manages to thrust his arm into the air and topple us. As he gets to hands and knees, I leap over him and wrap my arm around his head.

I squeeze the headlock and crush Thunder’s head. He falls flat to the mat, moaning as I apply the pressure. I pull up, adding pressure to his neck. I feel Thunder wrap his arm around my waist, but he can’t move me. He rubs my waist and leg, looking for an opening, causing me to shudder a bit. Fuck, I'm touchy today. The big man punches at my kidney, but again, I withstand it.

I’m really cranking on the pressure. As I see his forehead getting red, I feel his arm reach around my waist again, I prepare to counter his attempt at a lift. But no lift comes. Instead, Thunder grabs the waistband of my thong under my trunks. He lifts up hard and fast, crushing my balls. AH! I lose my grip and he easily slips his head free. As I reach to adjust my thong, Thunder wraps on a chinlock behind me.

I take the hold until my thong is stretched back down then I plant my feet and thrust back. We topple back, with me driving my 215-lbs on top of Thunder. The chinlock ends as his arms fall to the mat, I roll over him and pin him down, our bodies pressing against one another. We make eye contact, smirk at each other then he starts struggling under me. I slide off him then we both scramble to our feet, taking a minute to regroup.

As we circle each other, I still stretch out my legs, adjusting my pouch to get it comfortable again.  We move to lock up. As we do, I surprise Thunder, quickly rolling with his momentum, turning him and flipping him over onto his ass. When he springs up and turns around, I meet him with a boot to his stomach. When he lowers his head, I slam a forearm to the side of his head.

Thunder drops to one knee. I move in only to be met with a fist to my abs. My six-pack holds and I grab his head. I crank the front facelock hard, but not for long. The big man fires another fist, only a little lower this time, right into my bulging package. He moves his hand into a claw and squeezes. I slump over and stagger back in pain, with the big man still holding my manhood. Thunder seizes the moment, releasing my package, driving up and tackling me back into the corner.

I slam in hard, my back taking the brunt of the impact. He leans in tight, our bodies pressed together again. He shifts and suddenly lifts his knee between my legs, giving me another crotch shot. With me weakened, Thunder turns, grabs my head and flips me out of the corner. I land on my ass and he vaults over me, grabbing my head as he passes me. The big man snaps my head forward and back, sending waves of pain through my neck as he lands in front of me.

Thunder springs up, runs and leaps into the air, aiming his knee at my abs. Again, I move, leaving him to slam down hard on the mat. The big man screams and falls back, clutching his knee. I scramble to my feet. I walk funny for a couple of steps, adjusting my crotch, then stretch out enough to move in. I grab Thunder’s injured leg, pull it up and pin his other leg to the canvas with a foot on his ankle. I twist his leg, really cranking to further damage his knee. I look down, admiring the view. As I punish him, I alternate between his cute, anguished face and the bulge between his spread legs.

The beefy stud slaps the mat in frustration, but he doesn’t submit. He manages to free his good leg and kicks up, pushing me off him. He gets up fast, but he’s definitely favoring his leg. When he comes in close, I kick his knee, sending him down again. I push his head back then drive a fist into his forehead. I see his eyes glaze over, as I strike him again.

I take a minute to flex my arms showing off my gym-built body, as I’ve pretty much dominated the match. For the first time ever, the Pink Punk is in the power position. Thunder helplessly kneels in front of me, trying to regain his wits. The camera is capturing my posing, but the match hasn’t stopped.

As I flex, the big man thrusts his arm between my legs. My eyes bug out and I stagger back, bent over, clutching my balls. From his knees, Thunder jabs his fist out and slams his fist across my chin.

Thunder says, “Boom, bitch! Play time’s over.” Cocky talk for someone whose arsenal has so far consisted of punches and low blows. Still, I'm the one doubled over, eyes watering.

I fall back, landing hard on my ass. Thunder gets up and grabs my ankles. He elevates my feet and brings his foot between my legs. He pauses for a moment, looking me up and down. As I lift my hands and beg him not to, he stomps my pouch, slamming his boot into my cock and balls with authority. I feel my manhood being crushed as he rests his foot on my pink trunks.

Thunder drops one of my legs, steps over me and sits back, pulling me into a single leg crab. He leans back, folding me back, elevating my knee high in the air. It doesn't take long to figure out why he opted for a single leg vs a full crab. The big man brings his free hand onto my pink spandex pouch. At first, he just rubs it sensually. I get distracted from the pain in my back as he makes my cock grow uncomfortably in its spandex prison. I force myself to focus and try to force him off me, but his weight and leverage is too much.

"I'll give you a shot, bitch. Give now and I'll spare you the thunder." I feel his hand on my balls, taunting me, but I'm not the type who quits easily. In response, I push up with all my power and almost tip him, but Thunder maintains his balance. When we settle back into the crab, he says, "You asked for it, punk!"

Thunder's hand slides into the side of my trunks. He tightens around my pouch of my thong, squeezing my balls. Added to the abuse they've already taken, it doesn't take long for me to be crying out in pain. The big man pulls and tugs, keeping his grip firm. I continue to try to break the crab, but Thunder knows how to use his 240-lbs and how to grab a man for full impact. I'm moaning short and fast grunts, trying to hold on, but it's hard. I can't hold out any longer.

"Give, give, give," I blurt out.

Thunder laughs, "Who's asking? I gave you a shot. Now you gotta wait until I tell you when you submit!"

Instead of releasing me, Thunder leans back even farther and squeezes my balls even harder. I moan louder and thrash harder as the big stud ups the pressure. I cry out and slap the mat furiously. Only after I beg, "please, please, please," does Thunder deem to ask for my submission.

"Do you give, bitch?"

"Yes!"

"Say you're my bitch!"

"Oh god, okay, okay ... I'm your ... bitch. Fuck! Please ..."

Thunder finally releases my balls then my leg. He lies down on top of me. I feel his pouch on my ass as he brings his mouth to my ear. I feel his hot breath on my neck as his 240-lbs rests on top of me. He grabs a hold of my hair and pulls my face up.

The big man whispers, "Yeah, you're my bitch all right. My pretty pink bitch. Don't forget it."

Thunder rises up then stomps my back before moving off. He poses and flexes for the cameras as I reach down and try to massage my aching balls. I struggle up to hands and knees, crawling towards the corner to get ready for the next round. From behind me, Thunder approaches. He leans down and brings his hand up between my legs. Again, he wraps his hand around my balls. He lifts and forces me to my feet, my legs wrapping around his wrist as he pulls my aching balls back.

With his grip on my balls, Thunder reaches up and grabs the back of my mask with his other hand. He pulls me back over his shoulders and hoists me up. The big bastard never lets go of my balls as he locks me in a stiff over-the-shoulder backbreaker. I'm draped and suffering. My back is tender from minutes in the crab and my balls ... well, they've never taken this level of abuse before.

"GIVE! GIVE! GIVE!" I immediately cry out my submission. Then I remember, "I'M YOUR BITCH! Please let go!"

Thunder circles the ring, flaunting his dominance. I'm moaning in pain and begging for freedom again, admitting I'm his bitch, as he just cranks down harder. The beefy stud is more than able to hold me up. I'm completely powerless, my arms and legs flail as they hang down, but I can't free myself. We approach the ropes and Thunder adjusts his hand. Oh, he keeps the one tight on my balls, but moves the one from my head to my back. I feel him squatting then he thrusts up, letting go of my balls, pushing up on my back. I fly over, flipping 180 and landing with my stomach hitting on the top rope, my head hanging outside the ring.

I bounce up, but Thunder leans in and keeps me hanging over the rope. I feel like puking. I brace myself with my hands on the ring apron. Once I'm steady, Thunder grabs my pink trunks and yanks them to my ankles, exposing my smooth bubble butt in my pink thong. A hard slap to my ass and I've regained my wits, but it's too late.

Thunder leans over the top rope. He reaches down and grabs my mask. His weight pushes down on the top rope beside me. Suddenly, Thunder stands, dragging my head up. With the tension in the rope and Thunder's help, I'm slingshotted backwards. I land partly on my feet, but with them bound by my trunks, I fail to maintain my balance. I fall hard on my ass then roll onto my back. Thunder plants his boot on my chest, holding me down and counts.

"One. Boom. Two. Boom. Three. Boom."

Thunder reaches down, grabs my trunks and pulls them off the rest of the way. He leaves me a ruined mess thanks to his low blows. My abs have a red line across them from the impact with the top rope. My back aches and has tightened up. My balls are throbbing painfully as I lie there. I try to regain my composure, but the Pink Punk is wrecked at the moment.

Even though I dominated at first, more than any other match, Thunder walks away with two fast submissions and a pin. What a match. It's time for the Pink Punk to get fucked. Again. I'm glad that at least the big guy's cute and his dick looks good in his too tight trunks.

The beefy stud lies on top of me. He says, "Get ready for round two, bitch."

Wait, what? Uh oh. My eyes go wide as I realize there's more wrestling to come.

Round Two

I roll to the corner. I slowly grab the middle rope and force myself up to a kneeling position. Then I pull myself up to a standing position. I'm looking out over the ring post. I see Ryan, dressed in his all-black cameraman outfit, as he gleefully lifts the little hammer and rings the bell for round two (although I'd call it round four, which shouldn't happen in a best two out of three match).

Before I know it, Thunder is charging, but he doesn't splash me or anything. Instead, he drops, slides beside my foot and out of the ring. As he passes me, he grabs my ankle and yanks me down. I fall on my back, which stuns me for a moment. The big slab of beef pulls me to the ring post by my ankle. Oh no. Grabbing my other ankle, Thunder pauses, letting me anticipate what's about to happen.

I'm lying on my back, half in, half out of the ring. He's standing outside the ring, on the floor holding my ankles on either side of the ring post. I know where this is going. The big man plants a foot on the ring post, as I reach for the ropes to brace myself. He moves faster.

"BOOM!" Thunder yells as he pulls my legs out of the ring and slams ... I mean SLAMS ... my pink thong pouch into the metal post. I sit up, face showing all the pain, crying out in pain as he pulls harder and harder, really putting his 240-lbs into it. I'm going crazy in the ring, shoulders rising up and down, arms swinging helplessly. Outside, Thunder is smiling and applying more and more pressure.

Finally, the big man lets go. He struts to the ring apron and rolls in. He stands up and holds his arms in the air. Thunder shows off for the cameras. His red trunks are tenting with excitement as he celebrates his dominance with trash talk that I'm not lucid enough to understand. I realize the beefy stud is towering over me, as he blocks out the lights. I squint, looking up as his boot comes down, stomping my chest hard. I moan as he does it again.

Thunder grabs my wrists and drags my lifeless carcass back into the middle of the ring. He measures me up then drops an elbow across my chest. With surprising speed for a big guy, Thunder springs back to his feet. He runs back into the ropes, bounces off, leaps over me and bounces off the opposite ropes. When he gets close, Thunder leaps in the air and drops a big leg across my upper chest. The impact of his leaping leg drop stuns me.

Thunder casually rolls up, planting his shins on my shoulders. He kneels over me and reaches up, pulling his red trunks down in the back, exposing his ass. The big stud slaps his ass then sits down, positioning his bare butt on my face. He shifts his hips, rubbing his butt cheeks on me. When he finally settles in, Thunder flexes, celebrating his dominance.

The big man leans forward, running his hands down my abs, feeling my useless muscles. I moan into his ass as he caresses my torso. Thunder carefully reaches into the front of my thong. I feel his hand wrap around my cock. He squeezes hard, crushing my big dick. Thunder pulls on my member and I get stimulated, despite the manhandling. My cock swells from this man's touch and it's my dick versus his hand. In spite of myself, I start to get hard under the abuse.

I feel my pink thong get pulled down as Thunder yanks up on my cock. The elastic waistband settles at the base of my shaft, as the beefy stud lets my stiff cock flop down against my lower abs. He slaps the head repeatedly, causing my hips to buck up. I can't throw him off, the 240-lbs of beef is too much in my current condition. I feel him grab my member again, jerking it hard. Thunder punishes my cock, squeezing, slapping and punching my throbbing, rock hard shaft.

I'm helpless to protect my manhood and Thunder knows it. He flexes again then stands up, pulling the back of his trunks up. I roll to my side as I reach down to tuck my cock back into my thong. Unfortunately, my swollen cock is too big, as the waistband cuts across it, pressing it against my abs, as it stretches past my navel. As I'm fumbling with myself, trying to will my cock soft, Thunder is measuring me up. I roll to my hands and knees, looking down at the mat.

My beefy opponent bounces off the rope and drops his leg across the back of my neck, driving my face into the mat. After the move, I lie unmoving on my stomach, holding my head. Thunder struts around me, trash talking me for my pathetic performance. He reaches down and forces my thong down my legs, over my boots. I'm still unable to do much more than moan, so I receive a few stomps to my back.

The next thing I know, I'm being dragged up by my hair. Thunder moves in behind me, positioning us back to back, and draws my head back over his shoulder. He holds me like this for a long while, swinging his hips and letting the cameras capture my naked body from all angles. I can't do anything as I stand there, still hard, but helpless. Next thing I know, I'm falling.

Thunder executes a perfect neck breaker, or Rude Awakening, slamming the back of my head on his shoulder as we fall. When he releases my head, I topple over into a heap as he sits there laughing. Thunder forces my shoulders flat. He leans back, resting one arm on my face and the other down my abs. I feel him fondling my cock and balls, not roughly for once, but still with a firm grip.

"ONE!" Thunder starts jerking my fully erect cock. "TWO!" The big man jerks harder and faster. I start moaning as he works my big dick as I lie under him. My breathing speeds up and my dick contracts. I feel the cum rising up my shaft. I moan, whispering that I'm cumming.

"THREE!" As soon as the hot beefcake dominator counts me out, I shoot, spraying in the air and all over his arm and my torso. My liquid submission flows as Thunder squeezes my cock until I'm drained and soft in his tight grip.

When he's done, the big man rolls over. He grabs my hair and forces me to sit up. Thunder brings my mouth to his arm. Under the threat of more ball torture, he makes me clean my cum from his sweaty bicep. Next, I'm forced to lick off his forearm then his hand. I'm forced to swallow my own cum as he slides in behind me. I feel his arm wrap around my head for a sleeper.

I struggle to resist, trying to pry his arm off me. Thunder slowly tightens his grip, as I try to push up. I fight valiantly for a long while, but the outcome is never in doubt. The cameras roll as my naked body goes limp in the sleeper.

Feeling the Thunder

I feel the cold water splash on my face, making me stir. I can’t even think about moving, as the match, especially all the cock and ball torture and the sleeper, has wiped me out. Thunder tosses aside the water bottle then peels his red trunks off. He bends down and drags up my head. Thunder bends over and kisses me deeply, forcing his tongue into my cum-coated mouth. I kiss him back, succumbing to his undeniable dominance.

When he’s done using my mouth, Thunder stuffs his trunks in my mouth, crotch area first, forcing me to taste the combination of his pre-cum, sweat and musk. The big man forces me to my feet by grabbing my mask and sticky cock. I moan as he pulls me to the corner by my cock, painfully tugging on my battered member.

I'm backed into the corner then forced to kneel. Thunder’s hard cock quickly replaces his trunks in my mouth. He slides his shaft to the back of my throat. I gag for a second then adjust, accepting his cock as he pumps his hips. Thunder fucks my face, standing over me in the corner. Despite my early advantage, there’s no doubt as to the winner of this match. The Pink Punk is reduced to being his opponent’s bitch again.

I reach up and steady myself by grabbing Thunder’s ample ass. It feels good, but I wish I were on the other side, about to fuck it. But that’s not what’s happening. I continue to kneel and suck, worshipping the big man’s manhood. Thunder runs his hand into my hair as he looks down at me, savoring his victory.

Thunder pulls his cock out and swings his hips, slapping me across the face with his wet, hard cock. I take the abuse, as Thunder has earned the right by beating me. Between my legs, my cock has grown to full mast, despite all the punishment. It stands at attention as this beefy stud humiliates me.

When he’s slapped my face several times, Thunder grabs my hair and pulls me into the middle of the ring. He lifts me to my feet and spins me. The dominant hunk slaps me into a full nelson. He doesn’t tighten it, but he definitely has me under control. Thunder guides me to the corner. When my body hits the turnbuckles, I feel the big man split my ass with his cock. He releases the full nelson for a moment as Ryan tosses him a condom.

I’m quickly pulled back into the full nelson in the corner. Thunder’s sheathed cock splits my ass and he forces it into my hole. Suddenly, I’m impaled, the big man’s throbbing cock deep inside me. As Thunder pounds my ass, the turnbuckles hold me in place and the full nelson tightens up.

The combination of pleasure and pain is intense and my cock shows it, as it stretches out over the middle turnbuckle. I'm hard again, the cum on my crotch and torso the only evidence I came earlier. In the full nelson, I’m forced to watch my dick move back and forth as Thunder slams into my ass and drives my hips forward. Every pump rubs it against the cloth cover, stimulating my cock back to full mast as it rubs in rhythm with the fucking.

“Oh shit, I’m cumming!” I blurt this out, reaching climax for the second time under the power of my beefy heel dominator. With Ryan’s camera zooming in, I spray my latest load across the turnbuckle, almost hitting the ring post. Ryan ordered me not to cum between matches and, with seven days of buildup, it shows. My load erupts forth and my body shudders as I submit my cum, this time with my cock untouched.

When I’m spent and limp in his arms, Thunder pulls me out of the corner. He walks a few steps with me still impaled on his cock. He pulls out his dick then throws me to the mat, turning me so I land on my back. The beefy stud stands over me, peels off the condom and finishes himself off, coating my masked face and chest with streams of his man juice. As the cum rains down on me, it falls into my mouth, between my pecs and between my abs. My navel fills with a puddle of cum as Thunder keeps exploding with a humungous load.

Only when’s he’s completely drained does he back off. I think this must be the end, but there’s one more thing. Thunder stands over me and plants his boot on my cum-soaked torso, posing in victory. Lots of footage and images are taken of Pink Punk, defeated and destroyed again.

When everything's done, Thunder gives me a parting stomp to my crotch then drags me up by my hair and sends me flying out of the ring to the floor below. I lie there moaning and writhing on my back, clutching my cock and balls for the cameras until Ryan gives me the signal that my punishment is done for the day.

As I move to the locker room, I try to talk to Ryan and he actually responds. He compliments me on my performance and for resisting the urge to cum for a week. He never thought a "horndog slut who does all his thinking with his dick" like me could actually manage it.

I ignore the pejorative, as I realize that, suddenly, we’re transitioning into a legitimate, (reasonably) non-hostile, 5-minute conversation. It might have been longer, but Pete (being a thorn in my side, as usual) interrupts.

It's not much, but it's definitely progress. Maybe this is all worth it.

The End