Chapter 18: Bloody Retribution
The metallic tang of Violet’s blood still coated Ingrid’s tongue, sharp and coppery. Her forehead throbbed where it had connected with Violet’s nose, a dull ache radiating beneath the adrenaline. Below her, Violet gasped, her face a mask of crimson spray, one eye already swelling shut. Terror flashed in the remaining green eye as Ingrid’s teeth remained clamped, a vise of agony around her exposed nipple. Ingrid tasted salt, sweat, and the terrifying fragility of flesh yielding under pressure.
"Get… OFF!" Violet shrieked, her voice thick and wet. Her free hand scrabbled wildly against Ingrid’s oiled flank, fingernails finding purchase and digging deep furrows. Pain flared along Ingrid’s ribs, sharp and distracting, but she held firm, grinding her teeth deeper. A fresh bead of blood welled where tooth met areola.
Ingrid’s thighs, slick with sweat and the crimson trail Violet’s flip-flop had carved moments before, trembled with the strain of maintaining her dominant mount. The deep, burning line up her inner thigh pulsed in time with her heartbeat, a counterpoint to the pressure in her jaw. She felt Violet’s wiry body bucking beneath her, a trapped animal fighting extinction.
Then Violet moved. Not to escape the bite, but with it. She arched her back violently, lifting her hips off the canvas, using Ingrid’s own crushing weight as leverage. Her legs, previously pinned, pistoned upwards. The sole of her right flip-flop, still adorned with its lethal razor edge, scraped upwards along Ingrid’s already wounded inner thigh – not a slash this time, but a brutal, grinding drag.
"AAAAAGH!" Ingrid’s roar was muffled against Violet’s breast, the vibration sending fresh waves of agony through the older fighter. The razor edge tore through the existing wound, deepening it, widening it. Hot blood gushed anew, soaking Ingrid’s trembling thigh and pooling beneath them on the canvas. The pain was blinding, white-hot, threatening to shatter her focus.
Her jaw instinctively loosened, just a fraction. It was enough.
Violet twisted like an eel coated in oil and gore. She wrenched her upper body sideways, tearing her nipple from Ingrid’s teeth with a sickening, wet pop. The sudden release sent Ingrid reeling backwards, off-balance, her wounded thigh buckling beneath her. Violet scrambled sideways, kicking out blindly with her flip-flop-clad foot. The reinforced sole connected solidly with Ingrid’s kneecap.
A sickening crack echoed, swallowed instantly by the crowd’s frenzied roar. Ingrid crumpled, clutching her knee, a strangled gasp escaping her. Violet was on her feet instantly, swaying, blood streaming from her ruined nose and mangled breast, dripping onto the sequined red bodysuit that shimmered grotesquely under the harsh lights. She spat a glob of crimson phlegm onto the canvas near Ingrid’s head.
"Like that, Maiden?" Violet rasped, her voice nasal and distorted. She took a staggering step forward, favoring her own battered ribs. "Told you I’d peel you." She nudged Ingrid’s bleeding thigh with the toe of her flip-flop. "Looks like I started without the suit."
Ingrid forced herself upright onto her good knee, ignoring the firestorm in her thigh and the grinding agony in her knee. Her vision swam, the smoky haze and flashing lights merging into a nauseating blur. She locked eyes with Violet. The fear was gone, replaced by a feral, pain-fueled hatred. Violet lunged, not with the flip-flop this time, but with clawed hands aimed at Ingrid’s face.
Ingrid caught the wrists. Violet’s momentum carried them both crashing backwards. Ingrid’s back slammed into the unforgiving steel cage links, driving the breath from her lungs. Violet landed atop her, driving a knee hard into Ingrid’s lower abdomen – directly onto the scar tissue Violet herself had threatened moments before. A deep, sickening thud resonated through Ingrid’s core, momentarily paralyzing her. Violet’s hands tore free, fingers raking bloody tracks down Ingrid’s cheeks.
"Remember Helsinki?" Violet hissed, her breath hot and bloody against Ingrid’s ear. Her knee ground deeper, a relentless pressure threatening internal collapse. "Remember crawling? You’ll crawl again." She reared back slightly, aiming a vicious elbow strike at Ingrid’s temple.
Ingrid saw it coming through the haze of pain. Years of instinct took over. She jerked her head sideways. Violet’s elbow slammed into the steel mesh with a dull, metallic clang. Violet screamed, clutching her arm, momentarily stunned.
Ingrid seized the opening. Ignoring the screaming protests from her knee, thigh, and abdomen, she surged upwards, driving her shoulder into Violet’s midsection. She wrapped her powerful arms around Violet’s waist, locking her hands together in a crushing bear hug. She stood, lifting Violet bodily off the canvas. Violet kicked and flailed, her flip-flops scraping uselessly against Ingrid’s calves.
The crowd noise reached a deafening crescendo. Ingrid staggered forward, Violet trapped against her like a sack of writhing bones. She aimed for the nearest cage wall. Violet understood. She hooked her legs around Ingrid’s waist, trying to anchor herself, to reverse the momentum. Her hands scrabbled for Ingrid’s eyes.
Too late.
Ingrid drove forward with the last of her strength and slammed Violet spine-first into the unforgiving steel cage. The impact reverberated through the arena. Violet’s shriek was cut off abruptly as all the air blasted from her lungs. Her body went momentarily limp, eyes rolling back. Ingrid held her pinned there, suspended against the mesh, her own breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. Blood dripped steadily from her thigh onto the canvas below, forming a dark, spreading pool. Violet’s head lolled, her sequined bodysuit smeared crimson, her breathing shallow and wet. The flip-flop on her right foot hung precariously, held only by the big toe.
Ingrid leaned in, her lips brushing Violet’s ear. Her voice was a raw scrape, barely audible over the din. "Still crawling, Vi?" She tightened the bear hug fractionally, feeling ribs groan under the pressure. Violet’s eyes fluttered open, filled with pain and dazed confusion. Ingrid shifted her weight, preparing to drive her knee upwards into Violet’s unprotected back, pinning her against the cage like a butterfly. The roar of the crowd was a physical thing, pressing in, demanding the final, brutal act. Violet’s mouth opened in a silent scream.
Violet’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her body limp against the unforgiving steel mesh. Ingrid’s crushing bear hug held her suspended, ribs protesting under the relentless pressure. The roar of the crowd was a physical wall of sound, demanding the final, bone-breaking impact against the cage. Ingrid shifted her weight, muscles screaming from her wounded thigh and throbbing knee, preparing to drive her knee upwards into Violet’s spine.
Then Violet moved. Not to escape, but to attack. Her seemingly boneless collapse was a feint. Her legs, still hooked loosely around Ingrid’s waist, suddenly clamped down like industrial vices. Her wiry strength surged, anchoring her pelvis against Ingrid’s lower abdomen. Before Ingrid could react to the sudden shift, Violet’s right hand, slick with their mingled blood, shot downwards with viper speed.
Ingrid gasped, shock momentarily freezing her. Violet’s fingers weren’t aiming for a hold or a strike. They plunged downwards, bypassing Ingrid’s oiled thighs, seeking the most vulnerable, sensitive point. Calloused fingertips found their target: the exposed, swollen bud of Ingrid’s clitoris. Violet didn’t stroke or pinch. She dug.
A white-hot lance of agony exploded through Ingrid’s core, utterly different from the deep ache of her scarred abdomen or the burning gash on her thigh. It was sharp, blinding, a direct assault on her nervous system. Her bear hug loosened involuntarily, her arms trembling. Violet seized the moment, leveraging her anchored legs to grind her pelvis harder against Ingrid’s.
"Deep enough for you now, Maiden?" Violet rasped, her voice thick with blood and malice. Her probing fingers, coated in sweat and blood, didn’t stop at the excruciating pressure on Ingrid’s clitoris. They pushed lower, seeking entry. One finger, then a second, forced their way inside Ingrid with brutal, violating intent. They weren’t exploring; they were spearing upwards, seeking the deepest, most protected point. Violet’s green eye, inches from Ingrid’s pain-widened blue ones, burned with vicious triumph. "Remember Helsinki? Let’s see how your plumbing holds!"
Ingrid’s world narrowed to the twin violations: the searing, focused agony radiating from her clitoris and the deep, sickening pressure as Violet’s fingers drove relentlessly inward, scraping sensitive inner walls. Violet twisted her wrist, fingers curling upwards, knuckles grinding against tender flesh, aiming for the firm resistance of Ingrid’s cervix. The crowd’s roar faded into a distant buzz, replaced by the pounding of her own blood in her ears and Violet’s ragged, triumphant breathing. Violet’s fingers pressed harder, a relentless, invasive force threatening to breach the final barrier. Ingrid’s body arched backwards against the cage, her mouth opening in a silent scream that finally tore loose, raw and primal, echoing Violet’s own earlier cry.
Ingrid’s scream tore through the arena, raw and primal, echoing Violet’s own earlier cry. It wasn't just the invasive fingers; it was the violation, the deliberate, cruel targeting of the deepest vulnerability Scarlett had exploited. Her thighs, slick with blood and sweat, instinctively clamped tighter around Violet’s waist, a desperate, instinctive reaction to the agony radiating from her core. Violet’s fingers, relentless, twisted deeper, knuckles grinding against the inner walls, seeking the firm resistance of Ingrid’s cervix with brutal intent.
"Feel that, Maiden?" Violet rasped, her voice thick with blood and malice, spittle flying onto Ingrid’s contorted face. Her green eye, inches away, burned with vicious triumph, mirroring the icy fury Ingrid had shown moments before. "Feels familiar? Like Helsinki?" She curled her fingers upwards sharply, a brutal internal hook. "Let’s see if your plumbing holds better now!"
Ingrid gasped, stars exploding behind her eyes as Violet’s knuckles pressed against the entrance to her womb, a sickening pressure deep within her scarred abdomen. Her vision blurred, the roar of the crowd becoming a distant ocean roar. But the Iron Maiden didn't unlock her legs. Instead, she squeezed. Her powerful thighs, trembling from the strain of her own wounds and the searing agony Violet inflicted, became hydraulic presses crushing Violet’s lower ribs.
Violet grunted, the triumphant sneer faltering as Ingrid’s vise-like grip constricted her diaphragm. Her probing fingers momentarily stilled, the brutal pressure inside Ingrid lessening just a fraction as Violet fought for breath. "Get... off... me!" Violet choked, her own ribs protesting under Ingrid's relentless compression.
"Not... a chance," Ingrid ground out, each word a ragged gasp. She bore down with everything she had, the muscles in her thighs knotting, ignoring the fire in her own knee and the gash on her inner leg that wept fresh blood onto Violet’s sequined bodysuit. "You wanted... deep?" Ingrid hissed, her icy eyes locking onto Violet’s. "Let’s go... deeper."
Ingrid shifted her hips minutely, grinding downwards against Violet’s trapped body. She focused her entire being into the scissor hold, compressing Violet’s lower abdomen with crushing force, driving her own hips down onto the knuckles still lodged inside her. It was a horrific counterpoint: Violet’s invasive fingers digging upwards, Ingrid’s immense downward pressure grinding Violet’s own pelvis and scarred insides against the cage floor beneath them.
Violet shrieked, a sound of pure panic this time, as Ingrid’s weight and strength focused directly onto her most vulnerable scar tissue – the one Ingrid had threatened earlier. The fingers inside Ingrid spasmed, losing their cruel precision, as Violet’s body convulsed under the dual assault on her own violated abdomen. Ingrid saw the terror flood back into Violet’s good eye, replacing the triumph. "STOP! Nielsen! STOP!"
"Make me!" Ingrid snarled, her voice thick with pain and fury. She slammed her hips down one final time, a sickening thud echoing as Violet’s back hit the canvas hard. Ingrid kept the scissor lock welded shut, pressing Violet’s lower belly with lethal intent, her own body shuddering as Violet’s weakened fingers twitched helplessly inside her. The crowd was a deafening wall of sound, baying for the inevitable, brutal end. Violet’s mouth gaped, struggling to suck in air against the rib-crushing pressure, her face purpling, her remaining flip-flop dangling uselessly from her thrashing toes. Ingrid’s thighs quivered, coated in sweat and blood, holding the crushing pressure, her own breath sawing in her chest as Violet clawed weakly at her oiled skin, trapped between the cage floor and Ingrid’s relentless, punishing legs.
Ingrid’s thighs quivered, coated in sweat and blood, holding the crushing pressure, her own breath sawing in her chest as Violet clawed weakly at her oiled skin, trapped between the cage floor and Ingrid’s relentless, punishing legs. Violet’s face purpled, a strangled gurgle escaping her lips as Ingrid’s scissor lock squeezed the air from her lungs and ground her scarred abdomen against the unforgiving canvas. Her eyes, wide with panic, darted from Ingrid’s steely glare down to her own trapped hand, fingers still buried deep inside her opponent.
"Too... tight..." Violet wheezed, blood bubbling at the corner of her mouth. Her probing fingers inside Ingrid spasmed involuntarily, a reflex against the suffocating pressure on her own torso. But instead of withdrawing, desperation fueled a final, vicious gambit. Using the last of her leverage, Violet twisted her wrist violently. The movement forced her knuckles harder against Ingrid’s cervix, a brutal internal pressure that drew another choked gasp from the Iron Maiden.
Then, with agonizing slowness born of crushing resistance and slick friction, Violet curled her middle finger and forced her pinky to join the others. It was a monstrous effort against the tightness and Ingrid’s clenching muscles. The third finger breached, knuckles scraping, adding unbearable, stretching pressure deep within the scarred passage Scarlett had brutalized.
"Deep... enough... now?" Violet rasped, each word a bloody exhalation. Her eyes locked on Ingrid's, glinting with pained, defiant malice. The three invasive digits twisted, a grotesque internal wrench seeking to pry Ingrid apart from the inside out. Ingrid’s roar was primal, a raw sound torn from a place beyond pain. Her entire body convulsed, the scissor lock momentarily faltering as white-hot agony obliterated thought.
Violet felt the pressure ease just a fraction, a tiny window. She sucked in a ragged, desperate breath, her ribs screaming. Her three fingers inside Ingrid didn’t retreat. They pulled, dragging downwards with savage intent, scraping sensitive inner walls, aiming to tear rather than penetrate. Ingrid’s back arched violently off the canvas, her mouth a rictus of silent agony. The crowd’s roar became a deafening wall of sound, a hungry animal baying at the scent of imminent rupture.
Ingrid’s vision tunneled, the harsh arena lights blurring into nauseating streaks. The searing pain radiating from her core was a supernova, consuming the burning gash on her thigh, the throbbing knee, everything. Violet’s invasive fingers were no longer just violating; they were anchors, trying to drag her insides down into a private abyss. She felt a terrifying, internal shift, a pressure threatening to give way deep within her scarred abdomen. Violet’s grimacing face swam into focus, inches away, etched with a terrifying blend of agony and vicious triumph.
"See?" Violet choked out, her voice barely audible over the din, her fingers twisting cruelly. "Helsinki... all over... Iron Maiden." The taunt, referencing the past violation, stabbed deeper than any blade. Ingrid’s body shuddered violently, a tremor running through her oiled muscles. Her thighs, still locked around Violet’s waist, spasmed, losing their crushing coordination. Violet gasped, the sudden, erratic pressure on her ribs confusing her assault.
Ingrid’s hand, slick with her own blood and sweat, shot down. Not to pull Violet’s arm away – it was trapped, her wrist pinned by Ingrid’s hip and the awkward angle. Instead, Ingrid’s powerful fingers clamped like iron bands around Violet’s forearm, just above the wrist. Her grip was crushing, focused not on freeing herself, but on immobilizing the source of the violation. She squeezed with bone-breaking force, aiming to trap the invading hand, to halt its terrible excavation.
Violet shrieked, the sound cutting through her earlier wheeze. The pain in her forearm was sudden and intense, threatening to fracture bone. Her fingers inside Ingrid instinctively tensed, digging deeper in a final burst of defiance before Ingrid’s crushing grip on her arm forced them to spasm and momentarily still. The internal tearing pressure lessened, replaced by the sharper agony of her arm being crushed. "Let... GO!" Violet shrieked, bucking wildly, her free hand flailing against Ingrid’s ribs.
Ingrid ignored the blows. Her entire world narrowed to the crushing grip on Violet’s forearm and the agonizing, deep presence locked within her. She locked eyes with Violet again, her own icy blue gaze burning with a terrifying clarity emerging from the haze of pain. Her voice, when it came, was a low, guttural rasp, filled with a promise far darker than Violet’s violation. "You... don't... get... to... move." Her grip tightened further, knuckles white, tendons standing out like cables on her forearm. Violet’s wrist creaked under the pressure. Her three fingers remained lodged deep inside, but they were now trapped, a grotesque connection Violet couldn’t break. Ingrid’s thighs, finding renewed purpose, clamped down hard once more on Violet’s lower ribs, pinning her entirely. Violet’s eyes widened in dawning horror as she realized her weapon was now her shackle. Ingrid drew a shuddering, deliberate breath, preparing to move.