The Glass Ring was a miraculous place, the sort of establishment one went to have their dreams come true. Wishes were granted, desires indulged, the clientele rich, and the queer company exquisite. Yet, if a person left the main floor to wander the halls, they might stumble upon the well-guarded door that led to the Ring’s more exclusive experience. A secretive world not exposed to the casual crowds above.
Rynn blamed that on the membership price.
The Glass Ring’s underground was packed with spectators in various stages of undress and fancy, more than it had ever been before. The walls crawled with the buzz of whispered excitement, while the rumbling thump of base heavy music shook the floor. Rynn felt the bottoms of her feet tingle, bare as they were on the padded spot she was centered.
“Are you ready?”
A feminine voice spoke out from an overhead speaker, easily heard over the sounds of clinking glassware and speculative gossip. Across from Rynn, her opponent nodded, serene in the face of Rynn’s own nerves. Rynn tried to emulate her opponent’s action but was certain it came off more as a jerk of her chin. Her palms itched and her shoulders tightened. Were the lights in this room always so bright and invasively glaring?
Rynn didn’t have time to ask, the speaker’s announcer had already captured the crowd.
“Welcome to the Glass Ring’s Vault, where we deliver the most unique experiences a lifestyle club can offer.” The surrounding crowd tittered with murmured agreement. Typical, Rynn thought. “Here in the Vault, every Thursday night, we invite our members to enter the ring and compete in the league of submission and dominance.”
The crowd gave a cheer as Rynn’s flushed, enhancing the warm undertones of her brown skin. The audience was playing their part perfectly, indulging in the spectacle of exaggerated sportsmanship. Every style of play was encouraged with the same vigor, the Vault was host to many different engagements. It kept membership fresh and interesting.
Yet, the league was the main reason Rynn played.
“Are you ready for some wrestling?”
The roar the audience released was deafening, yet Rynn thought the rapid rattle of her own heart was louder. Warmth built within her chest, slow, slick, and melting as it swept lower. Across from her, her opponent mouthed, ‘Getting hot already?’
Beneath the hungry gaze of the spectators, Rynn felt practically naked. Suddenly, the clothing she wore felt far too tight. In a way it was. Her athletic bra and ass-hugging shorts were meant to be. The material accentuated every beautiful curve of her body while making her feel compact and powerful. It was a sensation she had lost after her last match, when the dud had resulted in a three month stay in the cooldown room.
Rynn shivered and repressed a moan. Probably best not to think about the cooldown room right before a match.
As a serious contender in the Ring’s league of sexual wrestling, there were contracts to sign and rules to be followed. Management made the experience feel immersive while keeping them safe. She enjoyed showing off for the community in the crowd but her mistress, acting as her sponsor, kept her serious by reminding her of her obligations, checking in and renegotiating the terms in which she performed.
Yet, that also meant she accepted the consequences of her loses too.
Rynn shook her head and focused on the announcer.
“In one corner we have Big Vik. Up and coming contender for a lifetime membership, number six on the leaderboards,” the announcer paused, if only to let the crowd hoot and catcall, before it spoke again, “and in our other corner we have Swift Rynn. Freshly and newly returned from cooldown, here to reclaim her number from Big Vik, who has graciously offered to put it on the line for the match.”
There was a scandalized gasp from the crowd as the announcer wove a tale of drama, “That’s right! Three months ago, Swift Rynn failed to secure a pin against Big Vik and lost her placement matches. She has spent time in the cooldown room to… recover.”
The crowd shared a chuckle and Rynn sucked in a shaky breath, warmed by the fact more than just her sponsor now knew where she’d spent the last three months, bound and controlled by any woman her sponsor had deemed appropriate. Rynn had always considered herself a dominant person, a top who enjoyed the leisure of being with her sponsor and any other woman in Ring that expressed interest. Yet, some part of her—irritated by the stresses of life, disappointed by her loss—had melted in that room every night she’d come to Glass Ring. There was something addicting in being lost in the thoughtlessness of pleasure and service. A few weeks into her cooldown period, her sponsor had given her a reason for why the room existed for play wrestlers. It had something to do with her mental health and the tension she was holding onto in her muscles, but the exact words had been drowned out when Rynn’s body had arched as something hot and wet sought out her clit—
“Contenders, please shake hands at the center of the ring.”
The speaker’s buzz disturbed Rynn’s musings and across from her, Big Vik smiled.
Fanning her face, Rynn approached the padded ring’s center. Vik, despite her contender title, was only a little taller than Rynn. A good 5’10’’ to Rynn’s 5’7’, but where Rynn considered herself a lean and nimble individual, Vik was more athletic, all flexing biceps and muscular thighs, with the umber of her skin tinged pink due to the heat of the glaring lights. On more than one occasion Rynn had imagined this moment, that she’d step up to her opponent, look her dead in her eyes, and say something impactful.
Something about winning back her placement, something to intensify the rivalry, to get the blood humming.
Vik beat her to it, “You’ll cum before me, you know. You’re already kind of revved up. Are you wet?”
Rynn sputtered, thrown off by Vik’s statement and the rolling husk of its delivery. “That’s a pretty vulgar question.”
“Is it?” Vik smiled and Rynn was momentarily dazzled as memories of the last time she’d seen that smile flickered through her head. “I’ll ask something different then. How was your cooldown period?”
“Fine,” Rynn grunted, glad for the ambiance generated by the crowd. The last thing she wanted was to be reminded of her time in cooldown now. Rynn held out her hand, eager to return to her placement on the mat. Forget saying something profound.
Vik took Rynn’s offered hand, the grip familiar, and brushed her calloused thumb over the back of Rynn’s knuckles.
When Vik released her, Rynn’s hand tingled with phantom touch. She ignored it as she took her place on the other side of the mat, though it took some effort.
Normally, these things—the crowd, Vik’s presence, even the announcers teasing—wouldn’t have distracted her from the thrill of a match. Had her time in cooldown softened her? She was so aware of other, deeper, needs in her body now. Impatience squirmed through her.
Vik’s nostrils flared and she bit her bottom lip as Rynn shivered.
“Girls! You know what to do.” The speaker buzzed, before a loud ding filled the space and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Vik lunged, easily crossing the distance Rynn had put between them and Rynn countered, twisting her body out of the way. They danced around each other, reactive to the ooh’s and aah’s of the crowd, seeking openings and places to grab that would result in a sought-after pin. With the match started properly Rynn’s various worries melted away. Her body reacted thoughtlessly, relying upon the experiences of previous well-fought matches and the rush of being watched as her body was in motion. There was no way she’d lose this time; Vik’s fluke string of wins three months ago had simply been due to Rynn’s unrecognized stress. How could she give her all if half her mind was occupied by the inconveniences of the day? The cooldown room and its users had taught her that when they’d practically carved the taste of relaxation and relief into her body.
She shouldn’t think so much about those hazy rose-tinted memories, but the freedom she’d felt through submission had been wonderful and decadent. It was distracting—
Vik grappled Rynn to the ground in one practiced motion, done with the sort of smooth grace that only the experienced could emulate. Vik took care to make sure Rynn wasn’t crushed beneath her weight as she placed her on her stomach against the mat. Rynn wasn’t sure she could have done the same so effortlessly. Not that she was impressed by the strength in Vik’s grip or anything.
Well, that was a lie. She was terribly impressed and terribly embarrassed.
The crowd stomped and whooped, enthusiastic and eager. The posturing, stalking, and waiting of their performance was little more than an appetizer for most. The true reason the Vault was full ever Thursday night was due to what happened after a contender was pinned. And Rynn? She was pinned.
This was not how she’d seen her night going.
Rynn bucked and wiggled beneath the weight of Vik’s body, with a determination even the announcer complimented her on. Yet, Vik was unbothered. With a hissed laugh Vik placed a hand against the back of Rynn’s head, and before long Rynn found her cheek against the mat and her hips immobile from the press of Vik’s own.
Sweat-slick, panting, and tired Rynn ceased her struggle. It wasn’t until Vik’s dreadlocks, unleashed from their careful bun, tumbled into Rynn’s vision that she remembered where she was and what was next.
Against her ear, despite the crowds swelling excitement, Vik whispered, “Color?”
As Rynn calmed she remembered the Ring’s important system, universal in nearly all aspects of play, though structured simply for the purpose of the league. Beyond the rush of the match and the crowd, she carefully asked herself: could she continue? Should they stop?
Rynn tapped the ground with two fingers. Green.
“Looks like Swift Rynn is in a pin!” The announcer inspired a fresh wave of cheers that stole Rynn’s breath away. “Big Vik has thirty minutes to make something of it.”
“I won’t even need all of them, will I?” Vik husked against Rynn’s ear.
“Fuck you,” Rynn sneered, though she doubts it could be heard over the noise shaking the rafters.
“Are you afraid?”
Was she? This wasn’t the first time she’d found herself on the mat, face down, ass being lifted up. Her body knew the position well. It was just… something about it felt differently. Anticipatory. The strange heat that had built in her chest had settled low and heavy in her belly. She wasn’t sure when it had happened, nor how, but she was aroused, incredibly so.
The last time Vik had pinned her, Rynn had steeled her will with her pride and arrogance. Now, all she could think about was the gaze of the crowd and the heat that plucked along her skin, tightening her nipples and stealing her breath.
“Someone really enjoyed their time in the cooldown room.”
Rynn groaned as Vik’s lips brushed against the shell of her ear. She could feel the heat of Vik’s powerful body through the thin fabric breathable fabric they both wore. The sensation of her bare stomach across the small of her open back stirred memories only strengthened by Vik’s words.
“You’re already arching your back for me. Spread your legs a bit too.”
Without any conscious input, Rynn’s body obeyed. She spread her legs just enough to keep her body balanced and her back arched. With perfect control, Vik pressed further against her, holding onto Rynn’s thighs to keep them spread and open. Belatedly, Rynn realized what she’d done, but no amount of flexing could get them closed again.
Am I really doing this?
Ryan’s idle thought felt burdened, warmed by a building lassitude. It faded easily before the stronger sensation of touch as Vik drew nonsense patterns along her inner thighs.
“You’re already so wet, I can feel it through your shorts,” Vik cooed.
Despite the crowd (or maybe because of it) Vik was able to weave a sense of intimacy. The sounds of those beyond their circle did little to ease the growing pulse of desire seeking her surrender. Vik’s husky whisper, the firm confidence of her hands, and the scent of their heavily breathing bodies cast a spell strong enough to put strain on Rynn’s defiance.
How was she to survive the next act if she could barely contain herself now?
If only she hadn’t been so distracted and so assured in her victory that her mind had slipped. The painful familiarity of her position conflicted strongly with her initial eagerness to changing her fate. Yet, as if her very thoughts had been trained, the longer she remained arched and vulnerable, the less sure she felt about regaining her place. The cooldown room wasn’t that bad—she’d agreed with her sponsor that it had been needed. The experience had been enlightening in delicious ways, but nostalgia for the pleasures within had softened her before the bell had even rung.
Had she designed her own downfall, or had the trap been sprung the moment her cooldown time had completed?
“They’re watching you, Rynn. The crowd is here for you,” Vik said.
Rynn shivered, thrown by the idea that she’d brought them there. “No way,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “this room is practically full to capacity.”
Vik chuckled and the vibration rang along Rynn’s spine, “Three months ago our first match was intense. Did you not think the Glass Ring would heavily market the second one?”
“Th-they promote every match, not just mine.” Rynn stuttered as one of Vik’s hands began to explore her body. Rynn was about to snap more of her retort when Vik’s long, sensuous fingers suddenly grabbed hold of one of her breasts. Rynn gasped in shock but resisted the urge to buck. She would give Vik time with body, uninterrupted. Yet…
She could feel the warmth of Vik’s hand through the material of her bra and her nipple began to peddle at just the promise of being touched.
Vik gave off a soft sound of interest, amused, “They like your attitude though, Rynn. How arrogant and overconfident you are.”
Vik’s hand began to move with purpose, massaging Rynn’s breast over her thin athletic bra. The slow methodical movement was done with a knowing firmness and Rynn had to clamp down on her body’s urging for more. Rynn took a shaky breath and thought past the growing warmth that glowed pleasantly behind the tingling nipple Vik’s massaging hand avoided.
“But three months ago, they found out how heavy your pride was and how sexy you looked when you lost. Now, they know how you really are.”
Rynn gasped when Vik’s deft hand grew bold in its exploration, joined now by its partner. The unyielding grip of her heavy breasts turned into a gentle caress. The sharp contrast in sensation was dizzying and Rynn knew her nipples were now easily visible, accentuated by their material prison.
“Soft. Dripping. Needy. The ‘Rynn’ they saw during our last match was only a taste of the humbled self you’ve become during cooldown. Gossip spreads fast in the Vault. They want to see that. Why don’t we show it to them, Rynn? Your true self.”
Rynn groaned as her endurance wavered. The pleasant warmth in her chest had only sunk lower, stirring the heat that was already there. Her sex throbbed with anticipation as her belly flexed with nervously. Was all of that true? Did the crowd really see her that way? Her heart thumped to the lustful beat of their sounds—they were encouraging Vik to conquer her.
Had her sponsor known this all along? Had Rynn become popular for her failure?
Her knees trembled as her strength waned, weakened by a growing pleasure.
“Let me help with that,” Vik chirped, and all too soon Rynn found herself lifted and placed upon Vik’s lap. Despite their actual different in height, Rynn felt smaller held against Vik’s chest. Or, maybe it was known she was helpless in Vik’s grip as her fingertips began to coax electric sensation from her needy nipples.
Rynn attempted to search for the timer, knowing the announcer was keeping track, but found it difficult to focus beyond the pleasure that Vik had started to milk from her chest. Her hips twitched, reactive to sensation, and as Vik flicked and tugged playfully at her nipples Rynn’s breath grew ragged.
“Does it feel good?” Vik asked.
Rynn answer was a moan of irresistible pleasure. She hadn’t realized just how much her body had yearned for this touch. Still yearned for pleasure as if she’d been made to submit.
“I’m glad you seem to like my touch,” Vik smiled, “but if I want to win, I’ll have to keep going.”
Rynn’s eyes fluttered as Vik’s hands left her chest, only to rest on the tops of her thighs, waiting. Rynn took one breath, then another, and whispered ‘green’.
Rynn watched, fascinated, as Vik’s questing hands spread apart of swollen lower lips, outlined and plump beneath the form-fitting snug of her shorts. Her sex throbbed, hungry and craven as fresh wetness spilled from her depths. Something low in her belly clenched with heat and Rynn whimpered from the intensity. The arousal that Vik had built in her body was still growing, spiraling away from her, and all Vik had done was expose her pussy.
As if reading her thoughts, Vik chuckled. “I won’t tell you how much time you have left. Try to endure it.”
Vik started with a squeeze to her outer lips and Rynn’s neck arched from the pulling-pushing sensation. Each kneading and massage transferred the sensation indirectly to her clit, and it took everything Rynn had to keep her hips from rocking. Burning urgency whispered through her, to beg for more, to free herself once more from the obligations she’d shed during cooldown. And oh, oh, what she would give to submit.
But that was how the league operated. If she wanted her place back, if she wanted a chance to dominant Vik, she had to hold on, had to—
Something tight and heavy pulsed at her center, demanding her attention in exchange for pleasure. “Oh, Vik…” Rynn whispered, bucking as Vik drew tight circles around her clit. There was something decidedly wicked about being pleasured through her clothing, of having her body ache with the demand for more direct touch but knowing she wouldn’t receive it—for the league was clear on their rules about nudity.
And yet, as Vik increased the cruelty of her teasing, the tight pressure dwelling Rynn’s belly only increased. Lustful energy licked flames of fire up her spine, a warning and a seduction. If only Vik would soothe the angry throb of Rynn’s clit or enter the dripping slit she rubbed so firmly. Everything was becoming so sensitive and slick. Desperation and insidious pleasure were blurring together, sharp in its taste.
“H-how much time is left?” Rynn panted.
“I won’t tell you,” Vik purred before she gave Rynn’s earlobe a lick.
With each circle and stroke Vik dwelled dangerously close to Rynn’s throbbing bud. Her clit had become a point of demanding focus, bending her will until Rynn felt on the verge of begging. When Vik finally nudged her clit with a finger, Rynn went so ridged she thought the anticipation alone would cause her to burst.
“You’re so damn close already…” Vik seemed in awe. Rynn’s embarrassment only enhanced her desire.
Still, Rynn growled with denial, “I’m not.”
Vik’s response was to firmly rub her clit in rhythmic circles.
Rynn moaned from the sudden stimulus, delighted and worried by the rush of ecstasy. Vik kept contact as she pushed and massaged her aching bud and her sex pulsed with a strange jealous emptiness. The ever-escalating waves of euphoria set her hips to gyrating as her breathing deepened. Before cooldown this would have been titillating, an alluring touch meant to tempt her. Yet, after greedily experiencing the joy of submission, her body quickly rushed toward what it believed to be one of many glorious climaxes.
“You’re going to cum for me again, aren’t you Rynn? Right here, in front of all these people. You’re going to show them what your body learned in during cooldown and how good it feels.”
Rynn bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out and trembled from the intimate intensity of her experience. The crowd ‘s excited hooping had turned into focused murmuring. Even the announcer’s speaker box had silenced. She now had their undivided attention. They were going to see her, hear her, come undone.
Rynn was floating, unable to ride the sharpness of pleasure, it rode her. “Mistress—ma’am, I’m going to--!”
Vik hid her smile against Rynn’s shoulder, “Oh, I know. It’s alright if you do.”
Vik’s fingers quickened, expertly rubbing her clit in tight circular motions that left Rynn wheezing from the stick heat of building pleasure. The pulsating pressure behind her clit began to throb in time to the rapid beat of her heart. There was no where for her to hide—not from the crowd, or the pleasure, or her mind begging please, please, I need to cum. Her body wrestled for control, but Vik set the pace, holding Rynn steady with her legs held wide apart by the weight of Vik’s own. The crowd could see her pussy spasm and drip, they would all know exactly when she’d cum.
It was the intense thought of being watched that sent her tumbling over, moaning loudly in the suddenly silent room. Her body contracted as Vik milked her of pleasure, spreading waves of warmth that lapped at her senses and sent her soaring. Each pleasurable spasm was an undeniable signal of her loss, but there was relief in knowing what came next.
As her body began to settle, wracked every so often with thrilling throbs and softening spasms of her satisfied clit, the announcer began to speak again, confirming Vik’s win and encouraging the crowd to mingle before the next league round. The faces she saw beyond a veil of sweat damp hair looked pleased and exhilarated. Rynn found that she didn’t mind her loss as much as she thought.
“You did so well today, Rynn.” Vik held cooed, rubbing Rynn’s arms with possessive affection.
“Thank you, Sponsor.”
Vik’s laugh was warm and delighted, “I’m not your sponsor in the ring, you know that.”
Rynn smirked, pleasure-drunk, “Sorry, Mistress.”
Vik shook her head with a sigh, “I’m sending you back to the cooldown room. You can demand a rematch in another three months.”
Rynn grinned and nodded. She truly did enjoy being a member of the Vault.