She smothers you

You here female voices calling out to her, while she cocks her head. She then looks down at you, "I think we'll go with a breast smother, really rub home the fact you lost to a women!"

Rachel's ample bosom descends upon your face, the soft mounds smothering you as she applies unyielding pressure. Your attempts to resist are futile, her arms locked in a vice-like grip around your head. The crowd's cheers and laughter crescendo, their voices a symphony of cruelty. "Crush him, Rachel!" one of the women bellows. "Teach him a lesson!" another jeers. Rachel's visage is a portrait of triumph, her eyes sparkling with sadistic delight. She leans closer, her breasts compressing your face, making each breath a struggle. Your strength wanes, your vision wavers. Suddenly, Rachel's grip intensifies, and she murmurs in your ear, "You belong to me now, Jake. You'll never escape my grasp." The crowd's laughter and cheers escalate, their approval of Rachel's dominance almost palpable. You strive to break free, but it's a losing battle. You're ensnared, powerless, and at Rachel's mercy.

As you succumb to unconsciousness, the cacophony of laughter and cheers from the crowd fades away, leaving you in a realm of darkness. A fleeting sense of weightlessness envelops you, as if you're drifting on a cloud, before you're abruptly pulled back into reality. You faintly perceive something be wrapped around your neck.

You realize It's the pink belt, now tied in a tight knot around your throat. Rachel's visage comes into focus, her eyes gleaming with triumph as she gazes down at you. She's a vision of dominance, and you can't help but feel a surge of fear and submission as you gaze up at her. The crowd's cheers and laughter have faded away, replaced by an oppressive silence that seems to weigh heavily on your chest. Rachel's voice is low and husky as she speaks, her words dripping with condescension. "You're mine now, Jake," she says, her eyes glinting with amusement. "You'll do exactly as I say, or suffer the consequences." She gives the belt a gentle tug, and you feel a surge of pain as the knot tightens around your throat. You try to speak, but your voice is barely a whisper.

She stands over her, "Now tell all these people you're my little pink belt bitch!"

With a sense of shame and humiliation, you cry out to the crowd, "I'm Rachel's pink belt ****." A triumphant grin spreads across her face as she tugs the belt, causing you to wince. The crowd roars with approval, their faces twisted in cruel delight.

As you gaze up at Rachel, you can't help but be awestruck by her physical presence. She stands tall and strong, her broad shoulders and muscular frame exuding power. Her skin is a smooth, golden brown, and her eyes are a piercing green. She is the epitome of a warrior woman, embodying the strength and power of the female sex.

And you, are her submissive partner. The thought fills you with shame and humiliation, but you know that you have ****. You are at Rachel's mercy.

She rubs her victory in even more, "Should men ever fight back?"

As you concede with a hushed "no mistress," Rachel's expression radiates a victorious smile. She moves closer, her gaze gleaming with mischief. "Exactly, Jake," she murmurs, her voice a low purr. "Men should never resist. They ought to yield to their superiors." She pauses, her eyes locked onto your face. "And you, Jake, are a prime example of a submissive male. I think you can stay here. We need a training dummy to practice our moves on!"

Your short time as a fighter comes to an end. Stripped of your rights and pride you find yourself a permanent live in **** of the gym. Sparring sessions are mainly just humiliating bouts. Overtime your resistance is completely stomped out. You are no longer Jake Miller. You are just a training dummy, a pain ****, if you're a lucky a sex ****, your body is now free use for the brutal inhabitants of the gym.