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The blackness faded away, and the hyena found himself staring at the soft red carpet of his living room. It would have been nice to pretend that what happened to him had been nothing but a horrific dream, but the feeling of sticky semen staining his thighs convinced him otherwise, as did the pain that seemed to come from every limb in his body at once. She seemed to have had more than her fair share of fun while he was out, as well, and not only did the seed stain his thighs, but it also stuck his face to the carpet like glue. He tried to raise his head, get a stock of his surroundings, but at first, he saw no evidence of the vixen who had so cruelly and effectively conquered him. Perhaps she was gone, having toyed with him to her satisfaction and then ultimately decided the time had come to abandon her toy to the humiliation of watching the stream replay and realizing just how badly she destroyed him.

Normally, such humiliation would be the worst thing he could imagine as a result of a battle, to have been beaten so badly that she could comfortably just abandon him, clean up and leave while he was passed out in a pool of his own cum, but now it would be a mercy. He remembered the threat that she had left him with as he passed out in her arms, the implicit last word as well... His career might not survive being so badly destroyed in a battle, but at least his body would.

His hopes that he might have been spared whatever wicked fate the vixen had in store for him, though, were dashed when he tried to push his weight up off the ground and he felt her foot press down and dig into the muscles of his back. He was pushed back down to the ground, hard, his chest pressing into the thick red carpet, his face against the floor, and his back started to practically screaming in pain as she leaned in on him, pushing her full weight down on his back, making his muscles twitch and compress under her power. He growled, he couldn't even stand up right now, couldn't rise to his feet and challenge her, he was forced to lie practically helpless just from her weight crushing down on his back.

He looked up and saw that his camera had been repositioned, and was now aimed at him. Up on the computer's screen, he could see the still streaming image of himself, pinned down on his front, with the wicked woman standing over him, looking down at the helpless man beneath her. The position highlighted just how powerful she was, the sheer size of the muscles in her thighs, her arms, her breasts, her abs... She was a vision of pure power, beast, and woman in equal measure, soft in the right places, and rock-hard muscle everywhere else. Even her pussy showed off the brutal contrast that was this vicious vixen, a deep hole of pulsing muscle and dripping power but framed by a pair of delicate labial lips that would have made even the strongest of men shudder in arousal. It was a body built to make men cum - With eroticism if it could, but by force, if it had to.

He tried to push himself up again, and again she dug in her heel and flattened him to the ground. She reached down, and weaved her fingers into his mane, moving her foot back along his upper back just a little bit, adjusting her position, not to get a more comfortable or stable position for herself, but to find a more agonizing one for him. As she leaned forward, he could see the way her massive breasts hung in front of her, a vision of womanhood that was almost impressive enough to obscure the sheer brutality that hid behind it, but while her breasts could hide the abdominal muscle, the size of her arms could not be obscured.

"Little bitch," her voice was soft until her fingers squeezed tight in his hair and-

"AAAAAGH!" He answered her insult with a cry of agony, and she continued to hiss her sadistic words in his ear.

"You're meant to be some proud, dominant stud? An unbeatable sexfighter? The only reason your heart is still beating is how fun it will be to strip you of any sense of dignity in front of your fans before I finish you off. I'm glad you spent so much time showing off your power to the pitiful fools who measure their lives in years and sexual pleasure in orgasms. It will preserve a record of your so-called might before you met a woman who counts centuries and victims instead of years and orgasms. Your desiccated corpse will stand - Or, well, lie - As a testament to my power. I love when men grow as sexfighters... You miserable whelps think you hold power when the truth is you have nothing but thick cocks for me to milk. You are nothing but fruit on a tree, and now you're ripe and it's time for my cunt to squeeze out the juices."

With that, she gripped tighter in his mane and slammed his muzzle down on the ground. There was a carpet there, sure, but it did nothing to cushion the agony of being crushed to the ground. It stunned him, made his world seem to swim in front of his eyes, and he could barely focus enough to try to crawl away from the bitch, get his hands and knees on the ground and pull himself forward.

He didn't know where he was trying to go. It didn't particularly matter, though, as the bitch kneeled beside him, and wrapped her rock-hard arms around his body. One arm reached up under his own, controlling his body and stopping him from even the rather pitiful attempts at crawling to freedom, while the other reached down and grasped his cock. The pain in his muzzle and her cruel words should have left him too horrified to maintain his arousal, but the heat of her body and the skill of her hands ensured that there was no escape from the eroticism of the cruel woman behind him. Her breasts mushroomed against his powerful back muscles, and it was almost tempting to just lean in and forget about things, but he was a fighter, damnit, he couldn't do that, he had pride! Or, after the way this woman had treated him, he at least had a desire to die without further humiliating himself... No matter how tempting the thought of bending to this woman's will and letting her simply do as she wished to him might be.

He fought against her with all he had, but something about the woman's presence was almost hypnotic. The way her hand dashed along the length of his shaft, the way her arm pulled against his chest and massaged his nipples. He had been in trouble in matches before, he had even lost some... And as shameful as it was to admit, especially early in his career, he had even been dominated a time or two. The one thing that had never happened to him, in all his years of doing this, was to be completely helpless. Beaten, weaken, battered, yes... Helpless? No. There were times he couldn't get himself out, but never times he couldn't even imagine a way out. That was what this beautiful, powerful woman was doing to him. Not only overpowering his body but his mind. The scent of sweat and sex filled his muzzle, and no matter how he tried to crawl or squirm, her hands pulled him in closer, trapping him in a living, milking prison cell

He had never felt a woman massage his chest like that, working him over the same way he would helpless women. His face flushed a deeper red than her coat, and his shaft filled out in the hand that kept milking out pre-cum. He began to shudder against her, and to his shock and humiliation, he felt saliva start to drip from his lips. He was drooling, squirming, and even helplessly but instinctively grinding his hips back, pressing them against her pussy like a horny bitch who was trying to get a stud to take her harder.

She pulled him up, pressing him closer to her breasts, and letting him feel her hot breath against his neck. His shaft began to throb, twitch, shooting pre-cum out at a rate that would have made any observer unfamiliar with his prodigious semen production think he was cumming. He clutched his eyes shut as he felt her fingers press to his lips. He tried to deny the dominance, the excitement, but he couldn't. He had to put all his efforts into holding back his orgasm, clenching down every muscle from calf to abs to try to keep the cum in. That meant he had no mental effort to spend on keeping himself from instinctively suckling on her fingers presented.

He wrapped his lips around them like a whore servicing a hard cock, and it sent his arousal into overdrive. The small bit of dominance still remaining in the moment screamed at him to stop, but all he could do to acknowledge his desire to keep fighting was hope... And tears began to fall down his cheeks at the realization that he, or at least his manhood, was becoming the personal property of the vixen. His arousal was growing by the second and making him sweat and struggle. He felt his shaft straining against her grip, and felt himself twisting and twitching in her arms. It was like he was completely under her control, body and mind, worshipping her fingers like they were a microcosm of the goddess she was becoming... And his cock simply BURST. Cum poured out heavily, it shot out, not in mild twitches and spurts, but a long, ongoing stream of seed that seemed like it was being poured from a cup being upended. The worst part of it, though, was that he liked it... Or at least, it felt right, it felt appropriate... It was a sign of submission to a goddess, to a woman far greater than he was or could hope to be... His cum was a gift to his superior. He whimpered as it poured out, and then gave another whimper, almost of disappointment, as the orgasm slowed down and she removed her soaked hands, the fingers dripping like she'd pulled them from a fondue fountain of white chocolate.

He reached down for his cock, grasping it, clutching tight and giving a last few tugs, to try to squeeze out more worship for her. Finally, though, no more cum could be pulled from him, no more gifts could be given to the goddess, and he found himself face down on the ground, his muzzle mere inches from her feet.

"Pitiful little creature," she mocked, reaching down and rubbing the back of his head in her hand, "How could you have hoped for this to end any other way?"

The cum that had coated her hand throughout his orgasm began to stick to his hair and drip down the sides of his head and his cheeks. Part of him agreed and tensed his shoulders to try to raise his heads and nuzzle up into her hand, accept the dripping seed like the waters of baptism into her cult. The other part, though, one much louder and larger since she had released him and taken away both the mind-numbing pleasure of her hand and the crushing muscles that reminded him of her superiority, told him that he didn't dare submit. As cum dripped down his cheeks, joining with the tears, he let out a low growl, determined not to let this contest end here.

Like a wild beast, he snarled, reached out, and grabbed her ankle. He clutched tight into her fur, squeezing on her ankle the same way she had squeezed on his cock. For the first time in the entire match, he heard a gasp. Whether it was a sound of shock, or anger, or even just her being impressed that he hadn't completely given up the fight against her yet, he didn't know and honestly it didn't particularly matter. He'd done something she didn't expect, he had her at even a tiny mild disadvantage, reacting instead of acting, and for the first time in a while, he was starting to think he had a chance to crush her.

The feeling lasted all of two seconds until he pulled hard on her ankle to trip her down onto her back. As he pulled back, and the vixen started to fall, she kicked her legs up, and even before she hit the ground, a pair of massive, tightly-muscled thighs had encircled his head and begun to constrict in on it like a vice being screwed in tight to hold some loose object secure. The lower (or from this position, upper) legs beyond the knee bent at the back of his head and pulled him tighter to her musky sex. The scent of overwhelming feminine power brought back the weakening effect that her molestation of his chest had inflicted on him, and the feel of her thighs crushing in on the sides of his head, deafening him to the world, reinforced the idea that he was completely and helplessly hers.

A traditional, skilled grappler would have bent her knees around the back of his skull to squeeze, and she did at first, but only until she had him completely locked in with his muzzle pushed into her cunt like a massive dildo. Her power was as great on the inside as it was on the outside, with feminine muscles and juices swelling and squeezing him. Once he was inside, the hold went from a traditional triangle to bending her knees over his shoulders, a complete cunnilingus position. It should have been an easier position to escape, as well, with no calf forcing him down, but the might of her thighs and the clench of her cunt stymied his attempts to escape. He tried to push away, grabbing her hips and trying to push himself back, but he was trapped, and then pushing on the rest of his body just made it feel like he was trying to yank his own head off his shoulders. Slowly, her pussy began to pulse on his muzzle, the muscles squeezing and releasing, clenching and pushing, milking on it like she was trying to draw out cum. He gripped her hips once again, trying to escape once more on instinct, but finding the thighs crushing his head and calves on his shoulders more than enough to keep him locked with his muzzle in the prison of her pussy.

He soon found why she had adopted the unusual hold, when she bucked up her hips, twisted, and rolled him onto his back. His shoulders pressed into the ground once more, feeling the wet remnants of his cum and drool beneath him as she effectively turned the headscissors hold into a cunt-smothering facesitting session. Not that it was exactly a merciful choice on her part, it simply meant that now that dripping pussy that seemed so eager to swallow up and suckle his muzzle like a five grand whore's blowjob was pressing even deeper. The crushing force of her cunt and body pressing down on his face and muzzle would have made him groan, but all that would happen when he tried that was that he found his face pressed deeper and breath starting to fade for the second time in the match, as the vixen above him taunted and twisted her hips against his muzzle. His shaft stiffened as well, pre-cum pearling on the tip, and as if it had activated a sixth sense, the vixen reached back and grasped his cock, squeezing it tight in her hand and giving one long slow jerk.

Her fingers clutched tight at the very base as she began the slow ascent up his shaft, a grip that stopped well short of causing pain, but promised it could come if he dared do anything to try to stop what she had in store. She worked her way up his shaft slowly, and with the same overwhelming force that she had brought to every other attack she levied against the squirming hyena. Her fingers pulsed just short of a rhythm, steady enough to lure him into comfort, but then throwing in just enough new and unexpected squeezes to stop him from allowing the pleasure to fade into the background. He felt himself falling under the awesome woman's sway once more as she reached the top, and pre-cum poured from his tip and soaked the bell and shaft the same way that tears had fallen from his eyes and stained his cheeks.

Then she reversed course, slowly slipping her hand down the shaft, and repeating the rhythm almost in reverse. Rather than a pulse, of tightening on a tender cock, she loosened her grip just barely enough for his shaft to swell and prepare to cum, before squeezing back down and reminding his unruly cock that it was a long way from being permitted release. Finally, she settled her fingers at the base of his cock, the long and humiliating trip up his shaft coming to a merciful end, but in a way that made it horrifically clear to the pinned-down man that the pleasure she could inflict on him was far from over. As she clutched the base and he felt her fingers play along the bulging vein of his cock, the realization of just what he was in for hit him. If he could have gasped, he would have, but even that tiny instinctive expression of shock was stymied by the power of the vixen's cunt.

The second before the full-on cock assault began was the calm before the storm. Soon she started pumping her hand over his shaft hard and fast, squeezing tight and pounding on him like she was trying to punch through his pelvis with every pull on his pulsing cock. He went from almost hypnotized by her musclecunt once again, completely taken, to suddenly bucking and thrashing as he had to twist his hips and pump on her hand, do anything possible in his power to try to alleviate the growing pressure of cum in his cock. He shuddered for her, his shaft spurting out pre-cum, but mostly he just writhed and bucked, trying with all he had to throw her off, but 'all he had' was becoming less and less by the second as her pussy stopped his breath and filled his nose and mouth with cuntflesh whenever he tried to gasp for air.

"Helpless little hyena~" He managed to hear her words despite the squeeze of her thighs on the side of his head, her grip seemingly relaxed just enough to allow the sound to come to him, but not nearly enough to give him a moment's respite from the torturous pressure, though she slowly brought it back and squeezed in on the side of his head as she spoke "Your cock is nothing but a toy for me, a symbol of my skill, and a demonstration to all the dumb fucks at home looking for a vicarious sense of manhood just how helpless they are and deserve to be. The only life purpose weak, stupid, helpless little whores like you have is to feed cum and life energy to your superiors, who actually deserve it. I'm not even going to steal your seed and life, you never had a claim to it in the first place, you're chattel, just a weak, stupid, helpless, cum-pumping li-"

He couldn't hear the rest of her tirade against his manhood as her thighs suddenly clutched tight on his head and completely stopped his ability to hear. His muzzle was in a damp, tight, powerful hole, whose muscles forced his mouth too shut to taste and stopped his breath so any attempt to smell was stymied when her juices simply dripped in. He couldn't hear a word anymore, not against the crushing muscle of her thighs, and the little bits of the world he had been able to see that were not yet blocked out by her glorious abdominals were fading to black as he thrashed and twitched. With disgraceful, destructive ease she had shut off his sight, his smell, his taste, his sound... Leaving him only with the sense of touch to process what was happening, and what it processed was horrific.

Her thighs squeezed in on the sides of his head with a force that only barely stopped short of crushing bone, and pains in his ears told him that crushing may not have occurred, but some creaking damage certainly had. Her weight against his muzzle exacerbated the agony, the parts of his skull and cheeks that weren't being compressed in were being forced down instead. His muzzle itself was being crushed into an awesome and overwhelming cunt, the pressure making bones bend the same way her thighs did, but rippling womanly muscles threatened an unmanningly pleasurable fate for any cock that entered that dripping hole.

And his cock itself, that was the worst. It didn't have a semblance of the pain that the rest of his body experienced in her grip, but that hardly made it any more pleasant to experience. If anything it was worse. The pain was something he could endure, something he could feel a certain sense of pride for not breaking against, but there was no nobility in what she was doing to his cock. No way to claim pride or valor for handling it... To claim to have experienced a handjob while crushed to the floor by a woman who looked like some muscle-bound avatar of Aphrodite and held out an orgasm for a few extra minutes was hardly any particularly prideful moment, not when he had been reduced to leaking copiously from mouth, eyes, and cock, and having his hips bucking stopped.

Her hand held him helpless, every thrust against it seeming to play perfectly into some unknown plot for humiliation the wicked woman had been keeping in store. Every thrash, every twist, every thrust just drove him closer and closer to an ignoble end, and the only thing he could hope to do was keep from blowing his load in her hand for just long enough to pass out and cum while unconscious. The vile vixen had so easily and completely controlled him that the only sense of pride he could still hope for was to say that he had managed to avoid staining himself while conscious, that she had had to render him limp and helpless before he spurted his seed... And even that was a hollow victory, as the deadline was one she set, and they both knew if she had the mercy to remove her hips, then he would have no choice but to be conscious and watching as his creamy seed arced into the air.

He fought with every fiber of muscle and every spark of willpower in his brain to just keep the cum in his balls a few minutes longer, a few seconds even, to ensure that if he had to become hers that he wouldn't have to bear witness to the creamy destruction. He had long since found himself unable to hear her words, but he could feel her chuckle above him, the vibrations along her body pulsing against his muzzle with what seemed like some sort of wickedly even mix of the inside of an earthquake's faultline and a bullet-vibe fleshlight at full force. The twisted sensations left his brain in shock and his body shaking, unsure if he wanted to scream in agony or orgasm, and knowing that her soaked cunt would allow neither.

She made the decision for him. She sped up the handjob, pumping over him and pulsing her hand so fast that he could no longer even tell where it was. Like a fan blade that spins so fast it becomes a translucent disk, the handjob felt less like a rolling motion over his cock and more like something had been slipped over his shaft that provided constant, destructive pleasure in every spot at once. There was nothing he or any other man, any other creature with a cock, could do in the face of such sadistic sexual sensations except spurt out gouts of cream. For the second time since he had awoken under her, his cock poured forth what felt like the most incredible, unmanning orgasm of its existence. His seed spurted up, and while he couldn't see how far, he could feel how high it must have been when he felt a hot viscous splash on his forehead that let him know the cum had somehow arced so high in the air that it had flown over her body so it could come down on top of him. His starved-for-oxygen brain didn't have the resources to remind his body to cry, but his cock was providing enough liquid to make up for the dry eyes. His body shook like a washing machine with a rock in it as she forced the cum out, draining it. Stars flashed in front of his eyes, and a sensation came of slipping away came to him for the second time in his life, yet it was one that he was afraid would become all too familiar the longer he spent with this sadistic succubus of a woman.

When his shaft could give no more, or rather, when she decided she was too bored of forcing it to give more to keep going, she rolled backward. It was like some sort of athletic gymnast's move. One second, he was on his back, pinned down by her hips and powerful pussy, and the next he was blinded by the overhead apartment lights, set up perfectly to let the camera catch images of destruction that, for the first time, had the hyena on the suffering side.

Even her release was overpowering and cruel. Had she continued his torture for a few more seconds, he would have passed out, and perhaps his body could have recovered or even just let his brain reboot for the fight. Instead, she released him at the very last millisecond before too much damage was done for him to remain conscious. The result? He wasn't given a chance to let his mind rest and work himself back up to a belief he might have hope before he felt her saliva drip against his shaft. Once his vision returned from the sudden flashing bright lights, he looked down to see her leaning forward, hunched down with her lips above his cock.

"Nggghhh... Wh-what do you want... You bitch..." He groaned out.

"An answer," she replied, her voice soft and sultry despite the sadistic words she spoke, "I want to know what you value more... Your pleasure... Or your spine?"

"Wh-what do you mean?" He asked.

She answered with a cruel smile and drove her mouth back down on his cock, swallowing it up to the base and drooling against his balls. A normal woman wouldn't be able to speak, but he had learned by now there was nothing normal about her, and it could hardly surprise him when he heard an answer in his head despite no apparent way for the words to come.

"You'll see soon enough."