Chapter 13: Parrot’s Revenge
The air on the central platform was a thick soup of humid breath, cheap neon, and the sharp, animal scent of exertion. The polished wood, slick underfoot, gleamed under the pulsating lights that cut through the lingering dusk. Rhomir, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, could still feel the ghost of his release, the shocking emptiness after Elena EM had milked him dry from behind. The first point gleamed on the scoreboard for the Parrots. A calculated humiliation.
Andre loomed beside him, a monolith of ebony muscle, his breathing a slow, controlled bellows. Andreea S.’s glossy black hair was stuck to her forehead where he’d pinned her against the wall. His monstrous, 30-plus centimeter dick hung heavy and untouched, an unspent weapon. The silence from the gathered spectators was a tangible weight.
“Clever,” Rhomir said, his dry humour sandpapered rough. He nodded towards Dariana and Elena, who stood entwined, sharing a sly, panting smile. “The flexible little performer and the classy k-pop fan. A coordinated takedown.”
Andre’s deep voice rumbled. “Coordination breaks under sufficient pressure.” His dark eyes fixed on Dariana. “The dancer plays director. We remove the director.”
Cesima and Andreea shuffled, wary. They had been opening acts, warm bodies for the Jaguars’ initial dominance. Now, they were pawns in a different game.
Dariana untangled herself from Elena. Her feline grace was back, but it was predatory now. She approached the cold brass ring at the stage’s center, her bare feet silent on the wood. “Pressure is just a rhythm,” she called over her shoulder, her voice carrying. “You just have to find the beat.”
Rhomir moved. He didn’t walk; he flowed with the sudden, imposing purpose of a landslide. He didn’t go for Dariana. He went for Elena EM. The classy one, the smart one who’d orchestrated his finish. He closed the distance before she could react, his muscular arms wrapping around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. She gasped, her above-average breasts crushed against his forearms.
“You like clever, draga?” he whispered into her ear, his Scandinavian accent wrapping around the Romanian endearment like a threat. “Let’s see how clever you feel around this.” With his other hand, he yanked her tight shorts and panties down to her knees. His own shorts were already open. His 20-centimeter thickness, still wet from earlier, pressed against the cleft of her ass.
Elena struggled, but his strength was absolute. “Dariana!”
Andre was already moving, following the script. His target was the director. Dariana turned to help her friend, but Andre’s huge hand clamped onto the back of her neck, his fingers spanning her skull. He drove her down, not to her knees, but forward, bending her over the cold brass ring. The metal seared her stomach.
“You wanted a show,” Andre breathed, his voice devoid of anger, purely operational. He used his foot to kick her legs wide. His other hand peeled her shorts down, exposing her tanned, fit ass, the big round cheeks presented to the neon-lit air. He spat onto his palm, slicking his monstrous length. The head, like a plum, nudged against her tight, untouched back entrance.
Dariana’s eyes went wide. This wasn’t part of her choreography. “Wait—!”
Andre didn’t wait. He pushed.
It was an invasion of impossible scale. Dariana’s whole body went rigid, a silent scream locked in her throat. He didn’t stop. He leaned his immense weight forward, an unstoppable force, burying inch after brutal inch of his colossal cock into her ass. Her muscles strained, fluttered, then tore around the impossible girth. A ragged, choked shriek finally escaped her. Her fingers scrambled against the slick wood, finding no purchase.
Rhomir, holding Elena fast, watched. A flicker of something cruel passed through his blue eyes. “Watch your little friend take a real pounding,” he instructed Elena, forcing her head to the side. He positioned his thick, hard cock at her soaked pussy entrance. “You get this. She gets a monument. Let’s see who breaks first.”
He surged into Elena in one deep, powerful stroke, filling her completely. She cried out, a mix of pleasure and devastation as she was forced to watch Andre destroy Dariana.
Andre found a rhythm, a deep, terrifying piston stroke that lifted Dariana’s slender body with every thrust. The brass ring dug into her gut. Each time he slammed home, the sound was a wet, meaty slap. Dariana’s world dissolved into a white-hot tunnel of撕裂ing pain that was already, horrifyingly, metabolizing into a searing, shameful kind of pleasure. Her body, trained to adapt, was betraying her. A low, broken moan dribbled from her lips.
“Taking it… taking all of it, you flexible fucking whore,” Andre grunted, his stoic calm fissuring into raw, physical dominance. He reached around, his huge hand finding her small breast, pinching her nipple cruelly. “Your ass is swallowing me. Good little Parrot.”
Rhomir was fucking Elena with a focused intensity, his thick length drilling into her with a precision designed to elicit maximum response. He bit her shoulder. “Come for me. Come while you watch your director get her asshole ripped open.” His words were a dark spell.
Elena, overwhelmed, her body humming from the expert fucking, her mind fractured by the spectacle, felt her orgasm detonate. It wracked through her, a violent, unwilling convulsion that made her pussy clutch Rhomir’s cock like a frantic heartbeat. She sobbed, humiliation and ecstasy merging.
Seeing Elena break, Rhomir allowed his own release. He pulled out abruptly, spraying his cum in hot, possessive stripes across her back and the back of her thighs, marking the classy strategist as conquered territory.
On the ring, Dariana was entering a different space. The pain had blurred into a overwhelming fullness, a sense of being stretched beyond limits. Andre’s ruthless pace was hitting a spot deep inside her that sparked lights behind her eyes. Her moans became louder, less pained, more desperate.
“Fuck… fucking hell… it’s… don’t stop,” she babbled, the words filthy and unbidden.
Andre heard the shift. A grim smile touched his lips. He changed his angle, driving upwards now, and Dariana’s voice shot into a scream. Her body clenched around the monstrous intrusion, a final, seismic orgasm tearing through her. It was a brutal, anal-induced climax that left her shaking, void of thought.
Only then did Andre allow himself to finish. With a guttural roar that echoed off the platform walls, he emptied himself deep inside her, a flood of cum that felt endless, filling the ravaged channel he had conquered. He held himself there, pulsing, for a long moment before sliding out.
He let her go. Dariana collapsed onto the wood, a trembling, soiled heap beside the cold brass ring. Andre stepped back, tucking his gargantuan, glistening dick away. He looked at Rhomir and gave a single, slow nod.
The second point gleamed on the board for the Jaguars.
Cesima and Andreea rushed forward, gathering Dariana and Elena, pulling their clothes up, shielding them from the voyeuristic neon. The Parrot women’s synchronization was shattered, replaced by a shared, hollow shock.
Rhomir adjusted his shorts, his dry humour returning, colder now. He looked at the huddle of Parrots. “Clever girls,” he said. “But the game isn’t about being clever. It’s about endurance.” He turned, Andre falling in beside him, two titans walking off the sweat-slick stage.
Behind them, Dariana lifted her head. Pain radiated from her core, her ass felt forever altered, but in her dark eyes, beneath the shame and the lingering spark of climax, a new calculation was already turning. She watched the Jaguars’ retreating backs, her friend Elena trembling against her.
They had broken the rhythm. But the dance, she knew, was far from over.
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But the dance, she knew, was far from over. The proof shuffled onto the platform next, four Jaguar women moving with a unified, predatory grace that made the still-trembling Parrots look scattered. Emilia, Antonia, Alexia, and Madalina. They formed a line, a wall of intent, their eyes fixed on the two Parrot men swaggering from the opposite entrance.
Theo and Arman entered like they owned the sweat-slicked wood and the neon haze. They’d watched from the shadows, drinking in the Jaguars’ previous victory, their arrogance undimmed.
“Four against two,” Theo called out, his voice a confident blade cutting through the humid air. He cracked his neck. “Math was never my strong suit, but that looks like favoritism.”
“Or a buffet,” Arman added, flashing a white smile, his hands already working the button of his jeans. His gaze, dark and assessing, swept over Emilia, lingering on the curve of her hip. “We’ll just have to work twice as hard. I fucking love overtime.”
Antonia, Theo’s ex, stepped forward first. Her smile was thin, sharp. “Still talking instead of doing, Theo? Some things never change.” She reached behind her back, unzipping her dress. It pooled at her feet. “Or are you scared your average little dick can’t handle the schedule?”
Theo’s grin didn’t fade; it hardened. He closed the distance in three strides, his hand snapping out to fist in her dark hair. He didn’t yank, just held, a possessiveness that made her breath hitch. “You know exactly what this average dick can do, Toni. You used to scream for it.” He pushed her down, not gently. “Today, you’ll beg.”
As Antonia sank to her knees before him, fumbling with his zipper, Arman motioned to Emilia and Alexia. “You two. Now.” It wasn’t a request. Emilia exchanged a glance with Alexia, Dariana’s good friend, a flash of uncertainty there. But the rules of the platform were absolute. They approached.
Arman backed onto a low, padded bench, his jeans already shoved down his thighs. His cock, fully hard and jutting, was indeed average, but thick, the veins prominent. “Emilia, you’re on top. Alexia, get under her. I want to see you eat her out while she rides me.”
The command was so casual, so obscenely specific, it left no room for debate. Alexia, her jaw tight, lay back on the sun-warmed wood. Emilia, moving with a mechanical precision, straddled her face, lowering her soaked pussy onto Alexia’s mouth. Alexia’s eyes fluttered closed for a second, then opened, resigned, her tongue lashing out to spear her teammate.
“Good girl,” Arman purred, guiding Emilia’s hips as she lowered herself onto him next, his thick head stretching her open with a practiced, slick ease. She gasped, her head falling back as he filled her, her body jolting as Alexia’s tongue worked relentlessly beneath her.
Across from them, Theo was fucking Antonia’s mouth with deep, measured strokes, his hands still tangled in her hair. “That’s it, take it all,” he growled, watching her throat bulge around his length. “You wanted this reminder? Here it is.” He pulled out, saliva stringing from her lips. “On your hands and knees. Now. Madalina, get over here.”
Madalina, the fourth Jaguar, moved swiftly, her earlier bravado simmering into focused compliance. She positioned herself in front of Antonia, presenting her ass to Antonia’s face just as Theo slammed back into Antonia’s pussy from behind. The impact drove Antonia forward, her mouth meeting Madalina’s slick folds with a muffled cry.
The platform became a machine of entangled limbs and wet, slapping sounds. Arman watched Emilia bounce on his cock, her breasts swaying, her moans growing louder as Alexia’s tongue pushed her higher. He reached around, his fingers digging into Alexia’s hair, grinding Emilia down harder against her face. “Make her come, Alexia. Do it or I’ll make you swallow me until you choke.”
Alexia’s response was a frantic, hungry increase in pace, her nose buried in Emilia’s ass, her tongue a ruthless piston. Emilia shattered, a sharp cry torn from her as her cunt clamped down on Arman’s shaft, milking him. He grunted, his hips bucking upwards, but he didn’t let go. He held her there, throbbing inside her, then pulled out abruptly, his cum painting stripes across her belly and Alexia’s chin.
“Swap,” he commanded, breathless but in control.
Emilia rolled off, dazed. Arman pulled Alexia up by her hair, turning her to face the bench. He didn’t wait for her to find her balance. He bent her over it, her ass in the air, still glistening from Emilia’s arousal. He spat on his cock, guided himself back to her tight, untouched entrance. “The other one got the pussy. You get this,” he muttered, and pushed in.
Alexia screamed, a raw, shocked sound that echoed Dariana’s from the previous duel. Her fingers clawed at the padded leather. Arman set a brutal, deep rhythm, fucking her ass with a focus that was almost clinical. “You’re taking it so good, you tight little Parrot-lover,” he hissed, each word a thrust. “Your friend Dariana just got her ass wrecked too. Must be in the water.”
Meanwhile, Theo had Antonia moaning incoherently, his balls slapping against her clit with every drive of his hips. He leaned over, his mouth next to her ear. “See Madalina’s pretty cunt right there? You’re going to make her come with your tongue while I fill you up. Do it.”
Antonia, driven by the fucking, by the old, complex hatred and need, obeyed. Her tongue delved into Madalina, who was now writhing, her own fingers pinching her nipples, begging for more. Theo felt Antonia’s internal muscles beginning to flutter. “That’s it,” he grunted. “Now, Madalina, come over here. I’m not done.”
He withdrew from Antonia, leaving her empty and gasping. He pulled Madalina onto the bench, laying her back. He mounted her, driving into her warmth in one stroke. But he pointed at Antonia, then at his own mouth. “Clean her. Clean Madalina’s cum off her. Then get up here.”
Antonia, flushed and used, crawled up Madalina’s body, her tongue laving the other woman’s wetness from her skin before rising to kiss Theo, sharing the taste. It was a degrading, intimate command, and she followed it perfectly. As they kissed, filthy and deep, Theo’s pace in Madalina became punishing.
“Arman! Now!” Theo shouted, his voice cracking.
Arman pulled his slick, aching cock from Alexia’s ass. He moved to the bench, positioning himself at Madalina’s mouth. Theo shifted, lifting Madalina’s hips, angling her. He pushed back into her pussy at the same moment Arman fed his cock past her lips.
Madalina’s eyes flew wide, a guttural scream trapped around Arman’s shaft. She was pinned, utterly full, double penetrated, a conduit for their brutal coordination. Theo and Arman moved in sync, a punishing rhythm that saw one hilt in her cunt as the other withdrew from her throat, a cycle of overwhelming penetration.
“Take it, you Jaguar bitch,” Theo snarled, his composure fraying into raw aggression. “This is what happens. Your team breaks ours? We break you four at once.”
Arman fucked her mouth with short, brutal jabs. “Swallow it. Swallow all of it.”
It was too much. Madalina’s body convulsed in a series of relentless, shocking orgasms, her throat working around Arman, her cunt gripping Theo in rhythmic pulses. The overwhelming stimulation tore through her, breaking her apart.
Theo felt his own climax roaring up, a tsunami of spite and exertion. With a final, deep grind, he emptied himself into Madalina, his release hot and copious. Arman, seeing his friend finish, pulled out of Madalina’s mouth and stumbled back to Alexia, who was still bent over the bench. He shoved back into her ravaged ass, three rough, desperate strokes before he came again with a shout, pumping another load deep inside her.
The machine ground to a halt. Four Jaguar women lay used, trembling, marked with sweat and cum. Two Parrot men stood over them, breathing hard, a flicker of surprise in their own arrogant eyes at what they’d just accomplished.
The point sparkled on the board for the Parrots. The duel was theirs.
Theo wiped his mouth, looking at the wreckage. He nudged Antonia’s hip with his foot. “Still think it’s average?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
She didn’t answer. She just turned her head away, a tear cutting through the sweat on her temple.
Arman zipped his jeans, his casual smile back, though it was strained. “Told you it was a buffet.” He looked toward the shadows where the rest of the Parrots, including a walking-but-chastened Dariana, watched. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.
They had won the point, reclaimed some footing. But the cost of the platform was etched on everyone’s skin, in the trembling muscles and the hollow victories. The dance continued, its rhythm growing more savage, more personal, with every brutal step.