You can’t prevent La Diabla from riding your face.

La Diabla lets out a sigh of contentment as she presses your face against her cunt. Your protests are muffled by the sexhold, and she responds to the faint groans with a laugh. “What was that? No puedo oírte, John.”

She begins gyrating her pelvis, grinding her pussy against your mouth. The taste of her juices goes from faint to strong to overpowering as she pleasures herself more and more. You try to pry her thighs apart, but she has them clamped too tight to escape and you’re finding it a little difficult to get any air in your compromising position.

“Oh, come on,” she taunts. “Stop struggling. You know you love it when I use you as a fucktoy.”

You ignore her and keep up your efforts to escape the humiliating hold, but it doesn’t make much difference. By the time the buzzer sounds, her bikini is cum-sodden and your face is dripping with the aftermath of her arousal. She releases the hold and kicks you away with one foot, sending you stumbling into the center of the ring, where you stand uncertainly with your cheeks burning red and your cock throbbing and twitching despite yourself.

La Diabla notices it too. “I told you you enjoyed it,” she says, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty more of that for you.”

The crowd pops at the taunt, and you want nothing more than to crawl back to your dressing room and hide—but obviously, that’s not an option. You prepare to tangle with Angelica again.

You’ve lost a point for domination.