Binding with Octavia sent a psychic whipsh through Linhart’s mind, just like the first time when Xenia bound him. He was only unconscious for a few seconds, but when he awakened his head was filled with a mix of so many opposing feelings, it made him nauseous.

  Hate, lust, outrage, amusement, jealousy… There were two women’s emotions flooding his brainspace now.

  He was still ying on top of Octavia. Her huge breasts were pillows under his hands, his body and hers were pressed together like a cloth on a table and his dick was still buried inside of her. Her love tunnel had enveloped most of his length before they had passed out. Now, as she was regaining her senses, he could feel her pussy muscles awaken as well, flexing and squeezing him, milking the cum from his rod until it started hardening once again.

  He moved his body, enjoying the feeling of his dick withdrawing from her hole, when her legs reached around his waist and linked behind him, pulling him back into her again. She had a supple strength to her long, lean body that surprised him. Her feelings of desire as she gripped him were so extreme, Linhart became scared. Here is another woman who wanted to cage him now. She drew his head close to hers, and they shared a love-filled post-coitus kiss.

  Beside them stood Xenia, her face red with outrage, her emotions told him she was ready to kill. But as he pulled his lips away from Octavia, the look on her face told him that her anger was not directed at him this time.

  “I leave the room for less than five seconds, and what do I come back to? You, with his dick in your dirty snatch.”

  Octavia was not phased by Xenia’s insult. She propped herself up on the bed, still holding him tight, and smiled, saying, “I apologize for you finding us like this, Xenia. But if you consider the situation… this happened because of you.” She pulled hard on his hair until his head tilted backwards, and then kissed his neck hard, in a possessive manner. “I mean, what did you think I would do after I met him? Just stand by and watch you fuck him?”

  Her actions and attitude seemed intent on infuriating Xenia even further. Why was Octavia talking to her like that?

  Xenia grabbed one of her ankles and twisted it until Octavia had no choice but to release her leg-hold on him. He could feel the pain coming through the bond. Octavia was in agony, but she did not show it on her face. “Get her pussy off of you, Linhart.” Xenia seethed, applying pressure to the leg until it was nearly popping out of its socket. Clearly, she knew that showing her pain would only encourage Xenia's sadistic tendencies.

  Octavia casually opened her legs, and allowed him to slide out of her. Xenia dropped to her knees in front of him and sucked hard on his dick. The st of his cum spilled out of the tip. She spat it into her hand and held it up to the light. "Damnit, you got the good stuff!” She looked back at Octavia asking, “Is your score going up at least? Does pussy fucking score points, or not?”

  Octavia held her ID bracer up to her eyes. Her face didn’t change at all, but he could feel something strange from her. Her bond sent a message of shock and then curiosity.

  “Nope, my Utility Score isn’t changing at all.” she replied, her face not betraying what she was feeling. She suddenly found something very amusing.

  “Damn you, Octavia!” Xenia swore, “I cannot believe you would stoop to this level. He was so close to fucking me and you just had to get in the way!”

  “Oh, have you not felt him in your pussy yet? That’s strange, considering you’ve had him all week.” Octavia was rotating her legs and hips in big hypnotic circles like a gymnast. Her thick gsses and lustrous bck hair contrasted with her lean pale body. She looked like a nerd with a model's figure. Purring and stretching her legs wide like a cat in heat, her pretty little hairy mound was on full dispy, “I just got a big injection from him and my hole is actually hurting. Do you have any cream to soothe a woman who's had too much dick?”

  Xenia was never one to hold back when it came to violence, and this disrespect was more than enough to set her off. Linhart thought Octavia had a death wish. Why was she baiting her? Then he noticed Octavia was gesturing very subtly motioning towards the door with her free hand that Xenia couldn't see.

  Whapp! Whapp!

  Xenia, the strong and stunning bombshell had started beating this ravishing, bookish woman with her fists and open hands. Octavia didn’t hold back either, immediately screaming in pain. Xenia was punching Octavia’s pale lean body so thoroughly, bright red splotches were blossoming up and down her stomach and ribs. Most of her blows were sps that nded on Octavia’s huge boobs. The sound of Xenia's hands on Octavia's breasts echoed around the room. They bounced around her skinny torso, stretching and rebounding off each other.

  Linhart understood now. This was Octavia’s way of keeping her side of the promise. She had distracted Xenia so well that he was completely invisible in the room. Was this more of Octavia’s magic? Or maybe she just knew the best way to get under Xenia’s skin? Either way, Linhart took advantage of the confusion and crept quickly and quietly towards the exit.

  At the room’s entryway, he remembered that he still didn’t have anything on. Luckily there were a few overgarments hanging on hooks along the wall. He grabbed one that, in the lowlight, looked like a Healer’s cloak and then dashed down the passageway to the safety of the outdoors.

  Just before he fled down the hall, he couldn't resist looking back out of curiosity to see what was happening between the two women.

  Octavia was standing, bent over the medical bed, with her butt sticking out and one leg lifted high in the air, like a dog taking a piss. He could see Xenia’s green hair bobbing between those elegant legs. She was holding Octavia’s thighs, spping her soundly now and then and slurping hard on her vagina.

  “Harder, harder!” Octavia was shrieking, and Linhart could feel her pleasure from Xenia’s attack. Her face was facing him, and she blew him a kiss as he escaped from the room. “His semen is so far up there, you’ve got to suck harder.”

  Linhart could not understand the dynamic between these two women. They were old friends, obvious rivals, and not afraid to hurt the other or suck the other's pussy? He would have to investigate further. Maybe he could use their rivalry and competitiveness against them.

  When Linhart emerged from the underground, he found that the sun had just set and it was twilight. The day was over, and it was past curfew for all Fighters. Standing in the Pit, he reflected that the st thing he remembered before his imprisonment was fucking Poppy right here in this ring while a crowd of freshmen girls cheered him on. That felt like ages ago.

  He took a deep breath, looked up at the blue-bck sky where stars were already starting to appear, and then started to jog in the direction of Fighter Hall. It wasn’t very far, so he expected not to run into anyone. He would look very suspicious to anyone who saw him running around in only a cloak. He held it tightly closed in the front.

  He had just crested the hill exiting the Pit when the thing he dreaded would happen, happened. A mere five feet away, a group of Strikers, six girls in total, were sitting around underneath the cherry trees here. Mean looking girls, some were nky but a few of them were pleasantly plump. They were pyfully waving weapons and drinking bottles of wine. They stopped pying with their bdes the moment he stepped out of the Pit.

  Strikers had no curfew, and really no rules that they had to abide by. Linhart had heard that they were encouraged to live wless lives, so that they are not afraid to face death when the time comes. Striker was the st css he’d ever want to join, and probably the worst group of people he could run into right now.

  One girl, wearing a tattered bandana and a yellow sun dress with tears all over, rose and wound up throwing something in his direction, “Hey Prowler, catch!” she ughed drunkenly. A moment ter, Linhart heard a whizzing sound and something hard and heavy hit him square in the head. It was a half-full bottle of wine.

  Linhart stayed on his feet, but his world was spinning and his head began to throb. He leaned against a cherry tree and put a hand to his head. He was bleeding.

  “Hah, a direct hit,” a plump girl in a loose pair of overalls sprang onto him, waving a bde in his face. It was too dark to see details, but she had huge eyes and short blue hair. She wore no shirt under the overalls and her boobs were practically on dispy as she danced closer, threateningly. Linhart held an arm up defensively. She was going to cut him.

  The starlight must have hit his face just right for her to see his face. She froze and excimed in awe, “Fuck, it’s not a Prowler. It’s a boy!”

  “What?” the others were on their feet in an instant, surrounding him.

  “What’re you doing out after dark, boy?” a wirey girl said, looking him up and down like a strange animal.

  “Are you okay? That bottle hit you pretty hard?” another said, sounding concerned.

  The blue-haired girl turned and sshed out at the girl in the bandana, slicing a bloody gash in her forearm. “Fuck, Glory! You hit a boy and made him bleed. That’s going to be a stripe.”

  “Ehhh?” Glory’s eyes were wild, as she stepped back, “How was I to know it was a boy, Azure! He just came at us from over the hill. I didn’t know!”

  The girl, Azure, looked at the other girls and nodded in Glory’s direction. Linhart stepped back, hiding behind the tree. It seemed they had forgotten about him for the moment. Should he try to get away? Linhart was considering his best escape route when the girls all moved as one, tackling Glory and holding her down to the ground.

  The girl Azure was on top of her now, pulling the girl’s torn yellow dress up and around her head, so that her face was completely hidden. The four other girls had each grabbed an arm or a leg, and desipte her efforts, she couldn't pull free. Glory was pleading for mercy now.

  “You know as well as the rest of us, Glory, that it don’t matter if you mean to or not. You don’t pick the flowers and you don’t lower your fg on any poles, and... you don't make boys cry. Now stop squirming or my bde might slip. I'm just giving you a pretty stripe to go with the others.”

  Linhart could see the scars now. Down the side of her ribcage, running from her back to the edge of her well-formed breasts. Three long red gashes and she was about to receive a fourth. He also noticed that the girl administering the stripe had two of her own along her fleshy frame. What the hell was happening? He had to try to stop it.

  “Wait,” he ordered them, “Don’t cut her! I'm not crying, see?” His hands pulled back the cloak to better show his face. A trickle of blood was flowing down his forehead now.

  "Crying doesn't mean water tears, stupid. It's blood tears that Strikers care about." one said turning back to look at him. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Fuck me, he’s a pervert.”

  “No way,” another responded in disbelief, “Someone must've stolen his clothes. No boy would do that on purpose.”

  Linhart realized his mistake, but a minute too te. His cloak had slid back on his shoulders as he raised his arms, and his chest, his crotch, and his erect dick were clearly visible to all these girls, pale in dim light. It must look like he was showing off his body to them.

  His hands smmed him cloak shut around him. The girls were all still staring, now at the cloak that they knew was barely hiding his naked body from them. He felt like he was on dispy. On the bright side, they seemed to have forgotten about punishing Glory, who was herself sitting up and staring.

  “I’m sorry,” he cried, “I didn’t mean to show you my wiener.” And with that he was running away. Through the trees, his bare feet spped the ground and he almost tripped in the darkness several times. There didn’t seem to be anyone chasing him, but he ran on. He felt foolish, and humiliated. He was tired and hungry, but he did not want to stop until he was safe at home, wherever that was!

  After a lot of stumbling off the paths that ran through the gardens and gdes, Linhart slowed down and realized that he’d arrived at Fighter Hall. The moon had risen over the stately building, and looking at the eight story tall stone structure, he had the feeling of sanctuary. This would be a safe pce to y low and pn his next moves. But then, two things occurred to him.

  First, he did not have a key to his room. That had been left with his clothing, wherever that was now.

  Second, it was an hour past Fighter curfew. The front entrance had been sealed and would not be opened again until the morning.

  What was he going to do?