Masochist

*You've been a fan for a long time, trained for this moment to enter the erotic boxing scene. Finally your time has come and your opponent is the man who dominates the scene. You make your way out of the locker room the arena lights are bright as you enter, looking around the stands are full, packed with fans of this underground fighting experience.

You confidently make your way to the ring, sliding in you stretch your trained body and await the champion. The lights shine to the otherside of the arena and the music starts. Big Bronzes massive form enters the spotlight, his heavy muscled chest and gut sleeked up and shining for the audience to enjoy and every step he made his muscle bounced after.

The man would finally make his way to the ring, his hands covered by those red gloves, his black trunks tight against his body. He gazes at you, his cocky stare burning you down as he envisioned taking your body after he beat you down. The ref enters the center of the ring explains the rules, NHB boxing match, doesn't end until someone is knocked out and the victor can do as he pleases with the loser.

With that he would check both fights and step back hand raised, the bell rings and Big Bronze muscles bulges as he stances up.*

The air inside the underground arena is thick with the metallic stench of sweat and stale beer. Under the glaring spotlights, Big Bronze cracked his knuckles, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating through his massive, hair-dusted chest. His heavy boots thudded against the canvas as he cornered you, his leather gloves glistening with moisture. The crowd roared overhead, demanding blood and skin, but his burning gaze was fixed entirely on your trembling frame.

He stepped into your space, his imposing shadow completely swallowing you up. Without warning, his massive leather glove tore through the air, sinking brutally deep right into the center of your stomach. The impact was violent, a agonizing thud that echoed off the ropes, driving all the oxygen clean out of your lungs as your knees buckled.

Grabbing the back of your neck with his left hand to keep you upright, he wound up his heavy right arm again, sinking another agonizing, soul-crushing hook straight into your helpless belly.

A dark, sadistic grin spread across Big Bronze's beard-stubbled face as he felt your body tense and heard your confession. The raw roar of the crowd buzzed in the background, but his attention stayed locked entirely on your trembling abdomen. He tightened his grip on the back of your neck, steadying you while you doubled over in pain and pleasure.

Without giving you a second to catch your breath, he pulled his heavy right fist back and slammed another ruthless, bone-jarring gut punch straight into your soft belly. The force drove you even lower, your forehead almost brushing his chest as you gasped for air. Remembering your request, Big Bronze shifted his weight instantly. His left arm whipped upward in a lethal, rising arc—a brutal uppercut snapping your chin back and forcing your head upright.

He let out a deep, booming laugh, his massive chest heaving as he loaded up his right glove once more, hovering right over your bruised stomach.

Big Bronze scoffed, his deep laugh reverberating through the heavy canvas air as he maintained a tight, unyielding grip on your waist. He leaned down, his rough beard brushing against your burning skin as his massive chest pressed against yours. While holding you firmly upright, he dragged his wet tongue over your sensitive nipple, swirling around it with deliberate, intense pressure.

Without breaking his rhythm, he drove another heavy, brutal hook straight into your bruised gut, the sharp impact slamming into your core at the exact same moment his mouth pulled tightly at your peak.

Big Bronze glares down at your slick, trembling stomach, his dark eyes flashing with satisfaction at the sight of your helpless arousal. He flicks his tongue roughly over your wet, swollen nipple once more, his hot breath washing over your skin while his thick hand squeezes your ribs, holding you pinned against his massive frame.

Without breaking eye contact, he winds up his heavy right arm. A swift, thunderous blow slams directly into your gut, driving a raw gasp out of your throat as your core shakes from the force. He doesn't stop—his mouth latches back onto your nipple, pulling hard while his left fist digs straight into your liver, each heavy punch landing with terrifying precision and power.

The pounding continues until the roar of the arena fades into a dull hum, your body completely wrecked and exhausted under his relentless assault. Time blurs together under the bright lights—punch after punch, lick after lick—until the final bell tolls through the humid air of the underground ring.

A short time later, the scene shifts to the dimly lit backstage dressing room. The heavy wooden door clicks shut, sealing out the noise of the crowd. Big Bronze stands over you as you sit slumped on the wooden bench, his heavy boxing gloves unlaced and tossed onto the floor. Chest slick with sweat and hair glistening under the low light, he looms over your spent, bruised body with a smirking grin.

He steps closer, pressing his thick knee between your thighs and resting his broad hand heavily on your battered stomach.

Big Bronze lets out a dark, booming laugh that echoes off the empty concrete walls of the locker room. He reaches down, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one calloused hand while re-lacing his heavy 8oz gloves with his teeth. Without a word of hesitation, he hauls you right back out through the curtain, dragging your trembling body back up the stairs and tossing you through the ropes into the center of the illuminated ring.

The arena is silent now, empty seats looming in the shadows, but the bright spotlights still burn hot overhead. Big Bronze steps through the ropes after you, his massive shoulders flexing as he looms over your exhausted frame, towering like an immovable wall of muscle.

He steps in close, slamming his thick thigh between your legs to lock you in place. His left hand snaps out, cupping the back of your head to drag your chest right against his chest. His wet tongue sweeps across your already swollen nipple, flicking and sucking hard while his right glove pulls back.

With a brutal, heavy thud, his 8oz glove buries itself straight back into your soft, defenseless gut. The wind explodes from your throat as the power drives deep into your core, shaking your whole body while his warm tongue continues to tease your hyper-sensitive peak.

He pulls back slightly just to wind up another lethal body blow, his eyes gleaming with cocky dominance as he prepares to drive his leather glove even deeper into your bruised midsection.

Big Bronze pulls his tongue away from your aching peak with a wet trail, a wicked, triumphant smirk carving across his stubbled jaw. His broad chest heaves as he looks down at your flush, sweat-slicked skin and the pathetic sight of your body shivering against his massive frame. He doesn't let go of your waist, keeping you hauled tight against his brick-solid gut so you can't even dream of slumping to the canvas.

His deep voice rumbles right against your ribs, heavy and full of dark amusement. He winds up his right arm once more, leather creaking as he tightens his fist inside the 8oz glove. With devastating precision, he buries the punch right back into the tender center of your stomach, driving his glove so deep you can feel every ounce of his massive weight behind it.

The thud echoes loudly through the empty, silent arena. At the exact instant the impact hits your core, his warm tongue latches back onto your other swollen nipple, pulling and swirling hard to twist the sharp pain directly into overwhelming pleasure.

He keeps his glove buried in your stomach for an extra second, twisting his wrist slightly to make you feel the full thickness of the strike before slowly pulling back to set up the next one.

Big Bronze lets out a dark, deep rumble of satisfaction, his thick chest expanding against your slumping form. He tightens his heavy left arm around your waist, pulling your trembling, unresisting body flush against his rock-hard frame so you can't fall even as your legs give out from the pain.

His deep voice vibrates right through your ribcage. Without giving your battered belly a single second to recover, he unloads a fast, rhythmic combination of heavy body shots. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each 8oz glove digs ruthlessly into your soft midsection, driving agonizing shockwaves straight into your core while his hot tongue drags over your swollen nipple, licking and biting down with intoxicating pressure.

He pulls back his right glove one more time, winding up with devastating force before driving a massive, lingering blow deep into your bruised gut, pinning you in place with the shear weight of his fist.

Big Bronze lets out a dark, booming laugh that echoes off the empty rafters of the ring. Feeling your body slump forward as your waist gives out under the punishment, he doesn't miss a beat. His left glove whips upward in a sharp, brutal uppercut that cracks against your chin, snapping your head back upright and forcing your eyes up to meet his dark, cocky gaze.

Without giving your dazed mind a second to clear, he leans back in, his wet tongue latching back onto your hyper-sensitive nipple with intense, dragging licks. Simultaneously, his right hand drops the boxing glove entirely, his bare, calloused hand reaching down to wrap tightly around your slick, throbbing length. He begins to pump his hand with a firm, punishing grip, perfectly synchronized with every devastating 8oz glove shot he buries deep into your wrecked stomach.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Each deep, sink-in body punch drives a ragged gasp from your lungs, the agonizing force of his glove clashing with the sudden, overwhelming sensation of his rough palm stroking your dripping shaft. He strokes faster and harder with every strike to your midsection, driving you straight over the edge until your body completely shatters in a helpless, messy release across the canvas.

He slowly pulls his glove out from your battered gut, holding your trembling frame up by the nape of your neck as he admires the total ruin he's left you in.

Big Bronze glares down at your trembling, spent body, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his stubbled face. The arena remains deathly quiet around you both, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and his low, amused chuckle. He unlaces his right boxing glove with his teeth, letting it drop heavily onto the canvas, but keeps his boots tightly strapped.

He steps back slightly, resting his broad hands on his hips. His heavy leather boxing boot thuds against the canvas right in front of your face, the dark leather scuffed and slick with sweat from the brutal session.

Before you can even reach out, his heavy boot sweeps back and slams straight into your battered belly with a sharp, sickening thud. The hard toe of the leather boot digs brutally deep into your bruised midsection, far sharper and harder than any glove punch, driving a ragged gasp of fresh pain out of your chest.

He looms over you with his massive arms crossed, his dark eyes gleaming with cocky dominance as he waits for your tongue to touch the scuffed leather.

Big Bronze looks down at the drop of blood smudging the dark leather of his boot, his dark eyes narrowing into a cold, cruel glint. A dark smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he listens to your trembling apology.

Without another word, he steps over your slumping body, his massive weight settling heavily as he mounts your chest. The sheer pressure of his thick thighs pinning your arms and his broad frame crushing your ribs squeezes the air right out of your lungs. He pulls his left boxing glove back on, flexing his thick fingers inside the leather before tightening his jaw.

He pulls his left arm back and drives a sharp, brutal hook straight into your right cheek. The impact snaps your head sideways with a dull thud.

Before your head can settle, his right glove whips around from the opposite side, slamming violently into your left cheekbone and jarring your teeth.

He leans his heavy upper body forward, pressing his sweaty, hair-dusted chest closer against yours, his eyes locking onto your dazed gaze as he loads up his left fist again.

Big Bronze lets out a deep, rumble of a laugh that vibrates through his massive, hairy chest right into your pinned ribcage. He leans forward, his heavy frame crushing the breath from your lungs as he smirks down at your dazed, flush face.

He doesn't give you a single second to brace yourself. Rolling his broad shoulders, he cocks his left fist back and begins raining a rapid, ruthless series of alternating hooks straight into your cheeks. Left, right, left, right—the leather of his gloves thuds brutally against your jawline, snapping your head back and forth against the canvas.

His voice trails off into an amused grunt as he speeds up the rhythm, his immense weight holding you completely immobilized beneath him. Sweat drips from his muscular torso onto your bruised stomach with every heavy swing, the impact of his heavy fists echoing rhythmically in the silent arena.

Big Bronze pauses his relentless barrage for a brief second, his massive, sweaty chest heaving as he looms over your pinned body. Blood smears across the red leather of his heavy glove, glistening under the hot spotlights. A slow, cruel grin spreads across his broad, stubbled jaw as he listens to you beg for even more violence.

He shifts his massive weight, driving his knees even harder into your ribs until you can barely draw breath. With a low, rumble of dark laughter in his throat, he pulls his right glove back, flexing his shoulder before unleashing a terrifyingly heavy hook straight into your swollen cheek.

Without a moment of mercy, his left fist follows immediately after, cracking against your other cheek and snapping your head sideways against the canvas. The sharp smell of sweat and leather hangs thick in the air as he rains down punch after punch with effortless power.

Big Bronze looks down at your battered, bruised face, a dark, heavy chuckle vibrating deep in his broad chest as he unlaces his remaining glove with his teeth.

He stands up, towering over you on the canvas as the hot arena spotlights burn overhead. Grabbing you firmly by the arm, he hauls your exhausted frame up from the floor, dragging you through the shadows of the stadium toward the quiet back rooms.

The long, intense night blurs together as the remaining lights in the arena slowly shut down, leaving the empty ring in total darkness.

By the time the pale morning light filters through the high windows of the private dressing room, Big Bronze is sitting comfortably on the wooden bench, pulled back into his street clothes. He looks down at your thoroughly spent, bruised form resting against the bench beside him, a cocky, satisfied smirk lingering on his broad face.

He pats your bruised shoulder with a heavy, calloused hand before standing up to head toward the door.

Big Bronze pauses near the dressing room door, his broad shoulders turning back toward you as your raspy, desperate voice breaks the quiet morning light. A low, wicked smirk spreads across his stubbled jaw, dark eyes gleaming with familiar cocky authority.

Without saying a word, he steps back over, his heavy boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. He grabs a pair of worn 8oz gloves resting on the bench, sliding his calloused hands into the leather and tightening the straps with a swift, practiced pull.

He steps over your spent frame and sinks down, mounting your chest once again. His immense weight settles heavily against your ribs, pinning your shoulders flat while his thick thighs lock you completely in place.

His deep, rumbling voice echoes in the quiet room. Reaching down with both hands, the heavy, leather-bound gloves cup the sides of your bruised head, gripping you with an unyielding, iron force that holds your jaw perfectly steady.

He leans forward, his massive, chest-haired torso towering over your dazed face as he looks down at your open, trembling mouth.

His gloves press tightly against your temples, dictating your every movement as he prepares to take full advantage of your complete submission.

Big Bronze lets out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrates deep in his muscular chest. The leather of his heavy boxing gloves presses firmly against your temples, holding your head in a tight, inescapable vise while his massive weight keeps you completely pinned to the floor.

He shifts his hips forward, aligning himself directly over your open, eager mouth. With a powerful, rhythmic thrust of his waist, he pushes deep into your throat, driving himself in with the same relentless, overwhelming force he uses in the ring. The heavy scent of sweat, leather, and raw dominance fills your senses as his thick thighs squeeze your ribs with every hard, deliberate shove.

His waist snaps forward repeatedly, pacing his thrusts with a dark, heavy rhythm. His breathing turns short and raspy as he looks down at your dazed eyes, your helpless face entirely framed by his gloved hands. He drives himself all the way to the hilt one last time, holding you down tight as a hot, powerful surge fills your mouth, marking your complete submission.

He slowly pulls back, letting his heavy gloves release your head, a cocky smirk resting on his face as he looks down at the mess he left behind.

Big Bronze sits back on his heels, his massive chest heaving as he looks down at your wet, bruised face. A low, rumbling laugh starts deep in his throat, echoing through the quiet dressing room as he slowly unstraps his heavy 8oz gloves and lets them drop to the floor with a loud thud.

He reaches out with a calloused, bare hand, grabbing your jaw firmly and lifting your face so you're forced to meet his dark, cocky eyes. His thumb roughly wipes a smear of sweat and saliva from your lip, his grip tight enough to remind you exactly who owns the room.

He releases your jaw with a slight shove, standing up to his full, towering height and looking down at your thoroughly ruined body with a satisfied smirk.