Arlo
I'm sprawled out on the disgusting floor, refusing to move ever since I fell down the small staircase. This feels surreal, almost like a dream I can't escape. I keep hoping that I'll blink my eyes and be back in bed any moment. The silence from the crowd is unnerving, but I suppose it's expected. There's no reason for them to scream or cheer right now. Things are calm since there's no fight. Is that what they call these events? A fight? It's pretty comical, really. Nesi descends the stairs from the small platform, her footsteps smacking against the metal steps. It's that sound that brings me back to reality.
"You two better be in this ring in three minutes!" Small Coffee bellows into the microphone. "There's no escaping this!"
The crowd starts a slow clap that gets quicker and faster in intensity, like it's supposed to pump us up. "No way!" I scream up at Small Coffee. Seriously, what the fuck is his actual name? It isn't on the business card he gave me and now I know why.
Nesi stands in front of me and extends her hand. "Get up." She's still topless and still in that black, lacy thong. It's hard to think that she hasn't had a problem this entire time about being shirtless or even pantsless. She's flaunting those tits around like she doesn't give a damn who sees them. It's unnerving. Shouldn't she have some decency?
I smack her hand away. "No thanks."
Nesi lowers herself into a squat. Her toenails are still painted black, perfectly pedicured, with no chips or breaks. She bounces a bit, making her tits sway back and forth, and I can't help but wonder how she looks so incredible. Considering what we've been through, her hair looks clean when it should look sweaty and unkempt. She doesn't have any blood stains from when she was hit earlier, and whether she'll get a bruise or not remains unclear. Her well-defined abs are at eye level, tempting me to bury my face in them, just like she did to my face earlier with her tits.
My mind drifts into wild fantasies. Nesi claps her hands in front of my face and extends her hand to me once more. "Come on," she urges, a mischievous smile on her lips. "You can have my tits in your face again."
I grind my teeth together in my mouth. "Yeah, in front of all these people!"
Nesi looks around and shrugs. "What's the difference? It's the same thing as the dance floor."
"There's a huge difference!" I snap back.
"There's nothing wrong with tits in your face, and also..." She pauses and looks straight up at the ceiling and the intense lights. "Also..." Her head moves back down to look at me. "Wait, what else did you say you liked again?"
I puff air out of my mouth. "Oh, I said I also liked... Nice try," I say. Mark liked a good face-sit... And now Mark is dead. I'm not telling Nesi shit.
"Get in the octagon! Now!" Small Coffee yells. "Either you're both in here in the next thirty seconds, or these janitors will clean up some more blood where you're chatting like a couple of schoolgirls."
I reluctantly accept Nesi's outstretched hand and rise to my feet. As soon as she starts dragging me, I let go, preferring to walk on my own. We ascend the steps, and Nesi pushes the gate open to reveal two janitors diligently scrubbing away the bloodstains on the mat. To my surprise, Mark is nowhere to be found. His body must've been swiftly disposed of while I was talking with Nesi on the arena floor just moments ago. These janitors also tend to a few other spots on the mat, leaving me to wonder what gruesome messes span the floor I stand on.
This cage appears larger once inside of it. A pair of soldiers usher me into a small square near the center of the mat. The same soldiers direct Nesi to another square a few feet ahead of me. Small Coffee, holding his microphone, positions himself in the middle of us, right at the center of the cage.
"Welcome to the first newcomer match of the season!" he announces into the microphone. His voice effortlessly reverberates throughout the subterranean arena, eliminating the need for him to raise his voice.
The crowd finally roars, and that reminds me of their presence. They all have a perfect view of me, Nesi, and Nesi's tits and abs. "Now, listen up, you two," Small Coffee continues. "I'm only going over the rules of engagement once."
I scoff. "Rules of engagement? You say that like this is war."
Nesi raises an eyebrow. "It sort of is... death is apparently on the table."
"Whatever," I say, insulted that this is being compared to actual combat.
"The rules are simple. The first to orgasm loses the match," Small Coffee explains.
"And the one to orgasm dies..." I mutter.
Small Coffee tilts his head a little. "Not necessarily. The winner is given a choice between two sums of money. The amounts are determined by how exciting the match was. The loser lives if the winner elects to take the lower of the two monetary options. If the winner takes the greater of the two options, the loser dies, put to death by the hand who forced the orgasm."
"So me," Nesi says with a grin.
"This is barbaric..." I say. Nesi doesn't seem to be bothered by any of this at all.
"Try to leave the match, and the soldiers shoot you. Give up, and the soldiers shoot you. Try to escape, and the soldiers shoot you... do I need to go on? Play the match or die," Small Coffee says.
"Yeah, yeah..." Nesi says with a wave of her hand.
"What if this chick has an STD or something? What's protecting me from that?" I ask, looking at Small Coffee.
"Excuse me?!" Nesi demands.
I throw a hand at her as the crowd laughs. "I don't fucking know you. I just met you yesterday! Judging from how you're comfortable with your tits hanging out and prancing around in that thong, I'd imagine you're full of disease!"
Nesi steps forward, her black nail polish reflecting little of the intense light overhead. "I'm clean, you asshole!"
"I don't believe you! Someone who acts like you... has to have—"
"Acts like me?!" Nesi yells, putting her hand on her chest. "Are you calling me a slut?!"
I rub the back of my head. "Well..."
Nesi drops her arm back to her side and shows an unnatural calm. A gradual, eerie smirk breaks out on her face, and I feel the hairs on my neck stand up. "We'll see who the real slut is after I'm done with you..."
"Ooh!" the crowd yells together.
I take a step back and mutter, "What the fuck..." My cheeks feel warm since that was sexy, almost husky. She bites her lip and gently shrugs her shoulders. Is this worth death? Is an incredible orgasm worth exiting this world permanently? I shudder to think that some men would say yes to that question without even thinking about it. I'm struggling with that since I don't know the answer myself.
"That's enough, you two," Small Coffee chimes in. "Speak with your actions."
"Are you going to tell me what kinks you have?" Nesi asks.
I spread my arms wide. "Are you?"
Nesi ties her hair into a tight little bun on top of her head. "Hmph."
"That's what I thought," I counter.
Nesi looks at Small Coffee. "How are we supposed to figure out each other's kinks?"
Small Coffee looks at her. "Figure that out on your own."
Nesi groans. "That's bullshit! There are so many kinks! How will I be able to find them if the purpose of this game is to hide them?"
"That's what makes the game so enjoyable," Small Coffee adds. "Just like in poker... everyone has tells."
I shift nervously inside the little square that the soldiers put me in. "You don't have the threat of death in poker..." I add.
Small Coffee laughs. "That's true, Arlo. Read your opponent. It's the same here as any other sport, even poker."
"This isn't a sport!" I scream at him.
Small Coffee laughs. "How is it not?! Sara and Mark were sweating like a couple of dogs in here! It's tough work."
"That doesn't make this a sport..." I mutter. Arguing with this guy, or Nesi for that matter, is entirely pointless. So I just shut up and let him continue. Nesi seems to do the same.
"Back to the rules," Small Coffee presses on. "The lights and that siren you heard during the previous match—"
"Yeah, what the fuck was that?" Nesi asks. So much for shutting up.
"That's called a power play," he answers.
"A power play? Like in hockey?" I ask. I may be a pretty boy, but I watch some sports.
Small Coffee finally looks at me. "Oh... a hockey fan, huh?"
I shrug. "Sort of."
"A hockey power play is nothing like the power play in the Octagon of Sin."
"The Octagon of Sin... That's what this is called?" I say to him. It makes me wonder... how has something like this been kept a secret for so long? All these people in the crowd. Murder and the sexual exhibition. How does something like this even exist, and the world, or rather the police, doesn't know about it?
"I'd say a lot of sin happens in this cage," Small Coffee answers flatly.
I look down at the mat and see another octagon logo with O.O.S. etched underneath it. "Jesus..."
Small Coffee stretches. "Please stop interrupting me, Arlo. That goes for you, too, Nesi. We're behind schedule. So, back to the basics. A power play is a set period when the position between two players can't be changed. So all those red lights you saw flashing about and that deafly and creepy siren you heard? That signaled a power play."
This gets more confusing by the second. "I don't get it..." I say.
"Oh, for the love of God, Arlo," Nesi starts, throwing shade in my direction. "If I get you into a kinky position or something that you like, then you would want to break out so you don't bust your load and lose, right?"
I nod. "Uh, yeah, I think."
Nesi continues, and Small Coffee lets her talk. "Then a power play prevents you from escaping," she explains. "It's an advantage for me, so I can make you come in a position that you love and win the game."
I stare at her and blink my eyes a few times. "How do you know that? Are you fucking in on this?! Do you work for them?"
Her eyebrows jolt upward. "Wait?! No! I just have a fucking brain and use it, unlike some people."
I shake my head and fold my arms over my chest when Small Coffee decides to speak. "She's right," he says. "We keep track of stats here just like any other sport. A power play results in a loss about 84% of the time."
The fact he keeps calling this a sport is an insult to actual sports. I shake my head, trying to wrap my head around this insane concept, though all of this is fucking insane. I guess I need clarification. "Okay, so if I get Nesi in a position she likes, like doggy style, for example, I'd get a power play?"
Small Coffee nods. "Yes, exactly. Since Nesi is in a compromising position and likely to orgasm."
I look over at Nesi and point at my temple with my finger. "See? Using my fucking brain."
"First time for everything," she mutters, looking out to the crowd.
I ignore her jab and look back at Small Coffee. "When the match starts, what are we supposed to do? Kiss? Feel each other up? Fight?"
Small Coffee shrugs. "Some contestants fight. Some make out. Some push each other around. Some just stand there and do nothing, only for our soldiers to shoot them for inactivity. I wouldn't suggest that option. If there's something wrong, then a soldier will intervene."
"Yikes," I mutter.
"Would you stop worrying?!" Nesi screams at me.
I ignore her.
Small Coffee emits a rather large sigh. "We usually help the newcomers discover the kinks of their opponent. The Octagon of Sin has seen many kinks inside this cage..." He pauses to look around, admiring the octagon we all stand in. "We love seeing something new. New is good. Kinky is good, you two. Being normal sucks. It's boring. Mundane. Aim to be different. That's why the higher-ups chose you." The crowd starts that eerie slow clap again that builds to a loud applause. Small Coffee laughs and exits the cage, locking it behind him. "That's enough talking. Figure out each other's kinks to exploit them and gain glory. Newcomer matches are fun... There are so many kinks to discover. So many things to unravel."
"This is nuts..." I mutter under my breath. More movement outside the octagon makes me look and see additional soldiers surround the cage. At least ten of them all dressed in the same way and holding the same rifle.
Small Coffee hops down and walks the perimeter behind the encircle of soldiers. I watch him with my eyes. "Ring that bell!" he yells into the microphone.
I don't hear anything immediately, and Nesi is right in my face when I turn back around. "You should be focused on someone else... I told you not to look away from me," she taunts. She abruptly leaps up and wraps her legs around my waist.
Without thinking, my hands automatically secure her beneath her thighs, which I squeeze while our foreheads gently touch. Her arms envelop my neck, and I can feel her breath flowing across my face. I'm shocked her breath doesn't stink but instead carries an aroma of orange and cinnamon.
I gulp. "Uh, hi, Nesi..."
Nesi smirks. That classic smirk. I hate that smirk... or do I? "You're ready to die. Aren't you, Arlo?"
My eyes snap open, as does my mouth. "What?! Fuck no, I'm not—"
Soldiers around us cock their guns. Nesi shuts me up with a kiss, and a bell dings throughout the underground arena.