Fight your way out

Desperation kicks in, your fists fly into the Warrior's body. No order or strategy, just hit that. Punch them, kick them, claw them, just get them off you. She absorbs your shots, wincing slightly as they strike her sides & abs. When you dig into her tits she snarls. When you kick her cunt she turns a pained groan into an angry roar & pushes her spear hard into your windpipe. As your head bends over the top turnbuckle you see (between the black spots) 2 green fires burning behind a red veil.

Are you gonna tap out or pass out? Fuck, are you gonna live!? Your foe answers that for you, twisting the spear behind your head & pushing you down on your face.

The announcer asks "Oh my god, can someone check his pulse?"

Warrior does, by gripping your balls in her fist. As you kneel up to gasp she checks your head & holds your mouth closed. Obviously she's performed this maneuver a dozen times.

"Now, bend over & don't fookin' move Johnny" she orders. You obey submissively.

On your hands & knees, bare ass up, head light, lungs pumping, you brace yourself.

This is gonna be one hell of a colonoscopy.

The crowd noise grows, but you don't dare turn around to see. The crowd grows even more, excited about something. The crowd winds up, whatever it is it's coming now. The Warrior banshee screams behind you. Then, all at once, 12 inches of hard rubber skewer your ass. You swear the whole fucking thing went inside you, so hard it crushes you into the mat. Precious air is **** from you, a wordless scream is all you can manage, your face a mask of utter pain & pleasure. Finally, you involuntarily shudder as cum spills from your cock.

Huh, didn't think I'd enjoy that. Learn something new about yourself.

Your foe retrieves her spear from you & uses it to flip over your twitching body. She scrapes up some of your jizz & smears it on her chest. She speaks to you with the arrogance of victory "Ní mhaireann rith maith ag an each i gcónaí" before raising the 'bod sleagh' in triumph. A later visit to a Celtic dictionary would translate: the steed does not keep his seed forever.

The Last Warrior wins 1 point for domination.