Chapter 21: Post-Violation Ambush
The crunch of Violet’s discarded beaded flip-flop under Ingrid’s bare heel was the last sound before the world exploded again. Agony, deep and rending, still radiated from her core, a sickening echo of Violet’s thumb breaching her cervix. Blood, warm and sticky, slicked the inside of her thighs beneath the red shorts, dripping onto the canvas. She’d barely staggered upright, one hand instinctively clutched low over her abdomen, the other grasping the cold steel cage mesh for support. Her vision swam, grey spots dancing at the edges.
Then, teeth. Like hot needles driven into the meat of her right trapezius muscle, just above the leather corset’s strap.
Ingrid roared. Not a scream of pain, but a guttural sound ripped from the furnace of her fury. It cut through the crowd's lingering roar over Violet’s downfall.
"Still standing after that?" Valeria’s voice was a wet, vicious growl against her neck, the words vibrating through the clamped jaw. Hot breath hit Ingrid’s skin. "Let’s fix it."
Panic flared, white-hot. Valeria shouldn’t be in here. Not yet. This wasn’t order. This was ambush. Betrayal. The taste of Violet’s blood was still metallic on Ingrid’s tongue, and now the coppery tang of her own joined it. Valeria’s grip was primal, anchoring, her wiry body glued to Ingrid’s back. Ingrid could feel the pressure of Valeria’s breasts against her leather corset, the scrape of the red bodysuit against her bare back muscles. The clear plastic boots flashed near her peripheral vision.
Ingrid drove her head backwards. A sharp crack as her skull met Valeria’s nose. The bite loosened fractionally. Enough.
Ingrid exploded backwards instead of forward. Using the cage mesh as a launchpad, she slammed her entire weight – every hard-earned muscle, every ounce of rage – into Valeria, crushing her against the opposite cage wall. Valeria’s breath whooshed out, the grip on Ingrid’s shoulder breaking entirely as she gasped. The coppery tang intensified where teeth had torn skin.
Ingrid spun, lightning-fast despite the deep, sickening throb in her pelvis and the fire in her shoulder. Her vision cleared, focusing on Valeria, who was already pushing off the cage, wiping blood from her flattened nose with the back of her hand. Her green eyes, under the harsh cage lights, held none of Violet’s bitter calculation. Just predatory hunger.
"Look at you," Valeria sneered, her voice nasal now. She gestured at Ingrid’s blood-smeared thighs. "Violet really opened the door, didn't she? Practically gift-wrapped you for me." She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet in the clear boots, ready to pounce. "Still think you can cage me, Maiden? You're already half-broke."
The crowd was berserk. The unexpected attack, the sight of Ingrid wounded but defiant, the sheer brutality – it was catnip. Chants warred: "MAI-DEN! MAI-DEN!" and "VA-LER-IA! VA-LER-IA!"
Ingrid ignored them. The pain was a live wire short-circuiting her nerves, but beneath it, colder than the steel cage, was a reservoir of pure, distilled wrath. Violet’s violation had scraped her raw. Valeria’s ambush threatened to break her. Neither would happen. Not here. Not now.
She spat blood onto the canvas near Valeria’s plastic boots. "Door's open," Ingrid rasped, her voice rough with pain and fury. She deliberately shifted her weight, settling into a slightly lower stance despite the protest in her core muscles. A dark bloom of fresh blood spread on the red shorts. "Step inside. See how far you get."
Valeria lunged. Not a tackle, but a whirlwind of strikes. A kick aimed low at Ingrid’s already ravaged thigh. Ingrid twisted, the high heel of her gladiator sandal scraping sideways as she took the blow on the meat of her hip bone – a bruise over the agony beneath. Pain flared, but she used the momentum, grabbing Valeria’s ankle as it recoiled. She wrenched, hard and sideways, trying to collapse the joint.
Valeria yelped, hopping frantically on her other plastic boot, but she was agile. She hammered a fist down onto Ingrid’s forearm where it gripped her ankle. Ingrid grunted, the impact jarring, but held, her fingers like steel bands. Blood dripped steadily from her shoulder wound onto Valeria’s trapped leg.
"Let GO!" Valeria shrieked, panic edging her fury now. She tried to kick with her free foot.
Ingrid didn't let go. She pulled Valeria’s trapped leg higher, forcing her off balance. Then, with a surge of strength that tore a gasp from her own lungs and sent fresh warmth trickling down her inner thigh, Ingrid lifted. She hoisted Valeria completely off her feet, the clear plastic boots kicking futilely at the air.
Valeria’s eyes widened in genuine shock. She scrabbled at Ingrid’s arms, her back. Ingrid held her aloft for a split second, a grotesque offering to the roaring crowd, Valeria’s red bodysuit stretched taut. The deep, internal wound screamed in protest, a white-hot knife twisting.
Ingrid pivoted, putting her entire bodyweight into the throw. Valeria soared sideways, crashing shoulder-first into the unforgiving steel cage bars. The clang reverberated through the arena. Valeria crumpled, sprawling onto her side, dazed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. One clear plastic boot tapped weakly against the canvas.
Ingrid staggered, the effort nearly buckling her knees. She forced herself upright, breathing hard, every inhalation a lance in her shoulder, every movement a reminder of the deeper violation. Blood painted a grim trail down her leg. She stared down at Valeria, who was pushing herself up onto one elbow, shaking her head like a stunned animal, blood leaking from her nose and a fresh cut on her temple.
"Still standing?" Ingrid echoed Valeria’s earlier taunt, her voice a dangerous rasp. She took a heavy step forward, her exposed toes curling against the sticky canvas. The high heels of her sandals felt like instruments of torture now. "Door's still open, Viper." She gestured towards Valeria with her bloody hand. "Or are you done already?"
Valeria’s eyes locked onto hers, fury replacing the daze. She spat blood onto the canvas near Ingrid’s foot. "Not even close, Maiden," she snarled, bracing against the cage bars to haul herself unsteadily upright, her chest heaving. The red bodysuit was smeared with grime and her own blood. She wiped her mouth, smearing crimson across her cheek. "Just warming up. You’re leaking all over the damn place. How much you got left?"
Ingrid didn’t answer. She just shifted her stance again, ready, the cold fury in her eyes promising only more pain. The cage lights glinted off the studs on her sandals and the sweat-slicked leather of her corset. The crowd noise was a physical force, pressing in as the two bloodied women faced each other in the center of the ring, the stench of sweat, blood, and raw violence thick in the air. Valeria coiled, ready to spring again. Ingrid braced, the storm of agony inside her met by the unyielding storm of her will. The only sound she registered now was her own ragged breath and the pounding of her heart, a drumbeat signaling that this fight, this war, was far from over. The canvas beneath her bare heel felt tacky with blood – Violet's, Valeria's, her own. It was the only floor she knew.