chapter 2

Chapter 2

The cursor was still flashing, as if it were challenging me.

I clicked.

The black screen opened like a velvet curtain. No password. No warning. Just my root access opening the doors to something I never imagined.

Above, an elegant, almost hypnotic logo: a golden "E" that reflected on itself infinitely, like an echo. Below, in thin but sharp white lettering:

ECHO

Fight. Humiliation. Domination.

Just for us.

Welcome, Alessandra.

(CEO Access – Full Privileges)

My blood ran cold. He knew who I was.

The home page was divided into clean, professional sections, like our intranet. But the content…

Upcoming Matches – Private Arena Level -3

Martina Bianchi (Head of Product) vs. Sofia Rossi (Design Intern)

Rules: naked, oil, no time limit.

Winner gets 14 days of total submission 24/7.

Status: 87% of bets on Sofia.

Video Archive – 2,347 files

I clicked on the first one highlighted.

The video started in full HD, silent for a second, then the sound of flesh flapping, labored breathing, strangled moans. Martina – my Martina – naked, shiny with sweat and oil, kneeling on the black carpet of the underground arena. In front of her, the intern with the purple hair, one hand in her hair, the other holding her chin up.

“Say your **** name, lioness.”

Martina, voice breaking: «I am… Sofia's whore… for the next seven days.»

The intern smiled at the camera and pushed Martina's face between her thighs.

End clip. 4.8 million internal views.

I went to the Betting Room.

Not money.

Time.

Candies.

«I'll bet 30 days of total ownership on Giulia Conti if she loses to the junior analyst.»

«Accepted. If he wins, I want his signature on that 12 million contract... and his tongue every morning for a month."

Messages signed with their real names. My women. My lionesses.

Then I opened the Secret Company Chat – Echo Lounge.

Over 180 users online.

Almost all employees.

And above, a small separate group: the Organizers.

Only four names. All men.

Marco (IT Security) – Admin Server & Streaming

Luca (Facility Manager) – Arena & Logistics

Davide (Legal) – Submission Contracts

Tommaso (Finance) – Hidden payments & Quotas

They were managing everything.

They booked the arena in the never used underground car park.

They installed cameras.

They drew up legal “slavery contracts” internally.

And they collected a percentage of each day of humiliation.

I flowed.

A 37-year-old manager who had just lost offered her complete agenda for the following week: meetings, lunches, even her chauffeur-driven car… all under the control of the 25-year-old winner.

Another wrote: «I lost again. Tomorrow I'll bring coffee to all three on my knees. Please don't tell anyone outside."

Answer: «Too late, bitch. Everyone will know."

I slammed the laptop shut, but the image remained imprinted on my retinas.

Now everything was clear.

The decline in productivity.

The strange dynamics.

Martina lowering her gaze.

Giulia blushing.

The doors closed softly.

Too many smiles.

It wasn't stress.

It wasn't tiredness.

It was ECHO.

My empire of strong, ambitious, ruthless women... was being devoured from the inside in a clandestine naked wrestling club where defeat did not end with a carpet, but with months of absolute submission.

And the few men I had hired for “support” were running it like royalty.

My heart was pounding in my chest.

Anger.

Dismay.

And, I'll only admit to myself, a low, dangerous heat that I haven't felt in years.

I opened the laptop again.

There was a button at the bottom of the home page, dark red, almost black:

Enter the Arena – For invitees only

Below, in small:

Do you want to see live, Alessandra?

Or do you want to… participate?

(End Chapter 2)