The Domina Arena

Once you pass the mismatched neon sign that reads "DOMINA ARENA, the first thing you see are the **** pens. They make sure you have to walk past the scores of would-be warriors from across the wasteland, now bound in chains and awaiting a life of degrading sexual servitude to their new masters. As you walk towards the check-in, you're given a grim reminder of what fate awaits you should you fail.

The reasons to come here are many. Maybe you heard tales of the luxurious and decadent lifestyles of the Domina, the elite gladitrices with growing harerms of beautiful women and and wanted that for yourself. Maybe you're really sadistic and just want to dominate someone in a bare knuckle brawl. Or perhaps you just enjoy the thrill of a high-stakes, life or **** struggle.

Whatever your reasons, you now find yourself at the sign-in counter, where a beautiful **** with a shaved head and an iron collar connected to the floor smiles at you with sadness in her eyes.

"Welcome to the Domina Arena! Will you fighting or spectating today?"

You give her your answer: "I'm here to fight."

"Ooh, another prospective Domina?" She looks you up and down. "Or perhaps another **** in waiting...."

She laughs. "And who will you be fighting today?"