Chapter Two

A soft groan escaped Leanna's lips as her body slightly stirred, her face embedded in a soft, downy pillow, her body resting at an angle as her breasts pressed against the mattress, one leg straight and the other bent, calf and arm extended as if she had wrapped herself around something. Her mind was a fog, waking from vague thoughts and visions of dreams already forgotten, light threatening to penetrate her eyelids. She was still for a moment, hoping she'd forget this brief disruption of sleep and nod off immediately.

...

Something or someone was squeezing her ass.

She tried to ask who it was, but her lips could barely move, a sleepy moan struggling to form a single coherent vowel instead escaping her.

"Oooh, I think she likes that," she could hear. Some kind of male voice, probably her age as it didn't sound deep or worn enough to be an older man. Filled with the haughty attitude of those that grew up in the modest population sectors but talking like they were from the slums. She tried to recall the events of the prior night, but was struggling to recall where she even was. This was clearly not her father's compound.

SMACK!

A gasp burst from her lips, eyelids barely opening, vision a blur as she was jolted by the sudden strike to her pale, round ass, the flesh rippling down along her thigh. Immediately the fingers were grabbing at her, kneading her rear end as she laid there. Was this an acquaintance? A fling? A friend? Whose room was this?

"Mmm, I tell you guys, this silver cat's even hotter in the morning light than the dim neon of the club last night, I'll tell you that much," the voice said, fingers grasping and wriggling her butt cheek while speaking the words. Silver cat. That was familiar. Club. Neon. A picture was forming. Access to a club, a smaller one, cheaper, on the fringe of the city. All she could afford. No sign of men with real money, they'd be in the city center or by the business designated beaches. She hoped for a local, found none. Haughty, posturing man trying to make several single credits look like hundreds struggling for attention. Easy mark, easy bed. She danced with him a bit, got him hard, let her hand grip and squeeze before asking to go back to his place. Just in time, he would have creamed in his pants. Rewind, wait, before the club, what happened? Wandering. Checking her holodisplay on her wrist. Map downloaded from dock terminal. Capsule shuttle landed safely in the ocean.

Poseidon's Paradise!

SMACK!

"Ah!" she gasped again, this time her back arching, sitting up on her elbow, hair cascading down one side of her face. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing a tan young man, skinny but toned, standing behind her naked, save for the wrist band into which his holodisplay recorded. His hair was cut very short, fully shaved at the sides, and he wore shades and a necklace. His modest cock was fully erect already, and teeth cased in fake gold glimmered as he grinned at her. From the cool temperature of the sheets on her skin, she knew she was naked as well.

"Good morning," he said, tongue gliding along his teeth. This was just a harmless nobody that wanted to play at being a top Netcaster, probably hoping to use the festivities as an opportunity to gain a following. He and thousands of others that made landfall the past few days.

"Play with my clit," she said, knowing he wanted a round two. She wasn't about to let him dive in dry, though. She resettled, face down, curling her legs beneath so she was on her knees, lifting her ass into the air, back curved downwards so her breasts still pressed into the mattress. It was a quick, disappointing fuck last night, and after he immediately dozed off she had posted to her netfeed. Her equipment wasn't on, though, so she had no clue how many notifications she had waiting for her, and didn't want to. She heard the man behind her excitedly climb onto the bed behind her, saying things into his holorecorder that she really didn't care about, instead slipping her hand between the mattress and her breast. Not trusting his fingers to get her motor running, she grasped her own breast, squeezing it before letting her fingers grip and twist her own nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. He spat on his fingers, and soon enough his index and middle fingers were seeking her clit, clumsily rubbing against her lips before finally finding the sensitive nub. She let out a gasp, biting her lower lip as her own fingers continued to work her breast and nipple, squeezing, pinching, twisting, all while he massaged side-to-side, never changing the pattern or speed. Nonetheless, her hips began to roll back towards him, grinding against his fingers in the air, and her pussy began to glisten.

"Fuck me," she commanded with a sultry breath. In part, she was doing this because it'd just be easier this way. He'd be out for the count, she could shower and leave, and she'd give him no opportunity to find out who she was or how to get in touch. However, there really was nothing better than a good fuck first thing in the morning, so as his fingers slipped from her clit, she pressed her ass back, eagerly awaiting that cock of his to slip inside. She didn't have to wait long, as one warm hand rested on her smacked ass cheek, the other no doubt holding his own cock as he took aim and pressed forward. Soon that hot, rigid crown was pressing through her folds, and as it plunged deeper her mouth gaped, gasping, soft whimpers emerging as she felt his length filling her.

"Mmm, damn girl, you're tight," he said, though in a manner that gave the impression he was trying to play it up for the camera. He pulled back and thrust forward, grunting alongside it, and did so again, each grunt fake, an attempt to sound like he was tough, masculine, really pounding her. She rocked forward, but of her own volition, gasping and panting as she slammed right back against him, matching his rhythm. She tilted her back further, lifting her ass and angling her pussy so he'd slide in more intently against the inner walls, those sensitive nerves that bundled into her G-Spot, caressing so intently as he slammed himself into her. He struck her ass, and her inner walls tensed and clenched around his girth as she yelped out.

She stopped playing with her breast, her fingers curling into the sheets, her teeth biting onto the pillow as she picked up the pace, rocking back into him, forcing him to thrust faster, harder if he could, his balls swinging beneath him and clapping against her. "Mmm, that's it girl, take it," he grunted. "Take that dick." She wanted to groan from embarrassment, the man clearly trying to play it up as if he was in control when, in reality, he was going too slow for her. She tossed her head back, hair flying back behind her head and to her shoulders, a subtle hint for him to grab on and yank, but instead he just smacked her ass again, causing her to quiver and squeeze. Squeaks and whimpers emerged from her as she pushed back even faster, that clapping of flesh on flesh getting louder, filling the room, the intensity of the pleasure climbing throughout. She lifted herself up from her elbows to her hands, head still tilted back, begging for her hair, her throat, her breasts to be grabbed.

His fingers dug in deep to her hips, pulling her in, exerting some sense of control as he began to pound into her, grunting, no more words, no more speech, just panting, moaning, hissing through grit teeth. "Ah, fuck!" she cried. It wasn't much, but it was finally feeling like a proper fuck. "Yes! That's it! That's...!"

Empty. She felt her body rock back, a little off balance, falling once more to her elbows as her pussy was suddenly vacated.

"Oh fuck!" the man exclaimed, groaning long and loud, jerking at his cock. She felt the wet, sticky, hot ejaculate land on her ass and lower back and sighed. That's right. That's what made last night so disappointing. With a long sigh she let him finish up, his groans the loudest now as he released. He smacked his already softening dick against her ass. "Aww yeah, lads, you see that?" He gave her another slap, though far weaker than the prior ones as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. "Silver cat is a hot piece of ass, ain't she?"

Leanna wasted no time sitting up on the bed herself, looking about the minimalist hotel room for her clothing. It didn't take long. A single bed room whose walls, furniture, sheets, and even carpet were all white, preferring to provide a place to rest your head for the night than threaten your sensibilities with gaudy, out-of-touch fashion. Plus, it's cheaper this way, which meant this guy was spending as little as possible on this trip. He probably was going to watch the events from the bars in the neighborhood, unable to afford tickets of his own. Nevertheless, he served his purpose. Spying her one-piece clothing, headset, collar, and wristband on the floor, she sidled off the mattress and scooped her clothing up.

"I tell you what, me an' this silver cat are gon- wait what do you mean you feel sorry for her?" The man's brow furrowed in confusion as he scanned the mocking comments in his feed.

"Don't worry about it," she said and gave him a polite peck on the cheek. She then stepped away and into the shower, shutting and locking the door. She could hear him arguing with his viewers, no doubt about his performance, but she was in a hurry. His ego was clearly fragile, but not so fragile he'd risk doing something to her. She knew the type, ran into them at her university for what time she was there. Still, he'd become clingy afterward, wanting reassurance that he was, truly, a man, that she enjoyed it, all that stuff. She didn't have time for that, though. She needed a wardrobe, and she needed a place she might be able to call her own. There should be sleep pods available that could also store clothing, far, far cheaper than your typical motel or hotel. That's what she'd rely on until she could find a far more reliable, far more advantageous connection with whom she might stay.

The shower was quick enough, using just the necessities of the hotel's generic sample shampoo and conditioner, thankful her hair was on the shorter end in such an instance as she freshened up. She didn't bother to blow dry after, relying on a towel dry before slipping her one-piece outfit on. As soon as her collar and wristband were connected a holodisplay appeared before her, indicating dozens of notifications. She let out a deep sigh, dismissing them as she opened the bathroom door.

"Hey," the man said, leaning on the door frame. She gasped, hand going to her chest as she took a deep, calming breath. She expected this, but not... like this. At least he put some pants on. "Was I really-"

"You were fine," she said with a smile, tapping his cheek and leaning in to give him a kiss on the other. "I gotta run, now. Bye!" She spun on her heel and immediately walked towards the door, ignoring his weak protests and inability to find the words. She half-jogged down the hallway in case he got it in his head to try and chase after her, begging, and even ducked into the stairwell to make sure she didn't get stuck waiting for the elevator. Fortunately they were only on the third floor, so the trip down the steps was easy enough, and the exit was right beside the dining hall offering complimentary breakfast. She snatched half of a Crelonian Cinnamon and Yorva Grape bagel, stepped out of the hotel, and immediately pulled the map up to find a park to sit at. Marching a few blocks down, she found a cordoned off sector of green grass, gorgeous palm trees, a water fountain and stone benches. Sighing, she finally settled down, taking a bite of the bagel before pulling up her notifications.

Her nose scrunched, having forgotten the Yorva Grapes, when made into a raisin, soured. The appeal was supposed to be how it blended with the peculiar sweet-spice of the Crelonian Cinnamon, overtaking the old Earth cinnamon in popularity almost immediately after it was discovered, but it was not at all her preference. Still, it had been a long time since she had eaten anything, so she chewed, swallowed, and took another bite as she began to flick notifications into her read pile or dust bin pile. Some notifications were from friends or followers just sharing encouragement for her trip, telling her have a good time, but plenty were creeper followers, many new, asking if she wanted to meet up. Finally she had whittled down to the handful from her family. Only three of her siblings had responded in any way, at least in public. Her younger sister and younger brother, as well as her oldest sister, all chiding her for behaving so selfishly and yadda yadda. There were several notifications from her father's representative demanding she return home, and one even demanding she "return that which was taken". In other words, they knew she had syphoned some cash, but they didn't want to admit it. She wondered if her dad had even been informed she was gone, let alone money was missing. Her mom had posted some guilt-tripping sob story about how broken hearted she was and how it would have been better for her to have been barren and her husband to have had children through a mistress, and how could Leanna hurt her family so.

In private, however, she received a missive from her third eldest sibling, her older sister, who had always been dutiful to the family, but seemed to include indulging Leanna's desire for freedom as part of that duty.

"Have fun, and find your way, butterfly."

Leanna smiled, taking a last bite of the bagel.

~*~*~*~

"No more interviews with Vicki Violet," Armand chided. His face was drawn into a leathery look of frustration, brow furrowed slightly, clearly having been dealing with press, business executives, and more after Geoffrey's performance last night. The two stood in the small kitchenette of the news station, the manager tipping back and drinking perhaps too large a gulp of the steaming hot coffee, but the heat didn't seem to bother him as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Was it really that bad?" Geoffrey asked skeptically, folding his arms defensively. He was now wearing his signature brown trench coat and red scarf, attire he'd be fighting in throughout the Brawl. Armand's eyes went wide as he turned to the fighter.

"Yes, it's really that bad!" the manager stepped closer, his polished shoes clopping against the tiled floor. "I've been fielding calls since last night! They finally stopped in time for me to get two hours of sleep, and I was woken up not by my alarm, but more calls!" Armand shook his head, putting the mug to his lips again, but this time a more controlled sip. Though he was a decent height at 5'10", he seemed short compared to Geoffrey's 6'3".

"So I didn't make it to ten minutes," Geoffrey shrugged. "I'm not the first, ya know." Armand nearly spat his coffee out, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"You think that's-" he began, before slapping his forehead, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "No, dammit, this isn't about your inability to control your load, it's about your inability to control your mouth!" Geoffrey's own brow furrowed in confusion, causing the manager to sigh, step back, and set his mug on the counter.

"Geoff, my boy, do you know why I tell you to keep all those details close to your vest?"

"You've said to protect me," the younger man shrugged.

"Right," Armand nodded. "Everyone out there is going to want to find any weakness, any sign of vulnerability that they can in order to take advantage of you financially, or to demoralize you before you're on the battlefield, or get in your head and play games while you're in the heat of the fight."

"That's what they did to you," Geoffrey recited, his own head nodding as he recalled the speech many times. "I get it, I just don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal," Armand held his hand up, fingers pinched together, as if to emphasize his point, "is that you just told everyone on Poseidon's Paradise that you don't think you belong here."

Geoffrey's brow furrowed again, his eyes squinting shut, his voice defensive. "That's not what I said."

"Not literally," Armand pointed, "but you certainly gave that impression." The manager lifted his wrist, the gesture pulling up his holodisplay. He flicked through a few windows and punched a play button.

"Um, honestly... I never expected to... to leave the Jovian circuit... Fuck... I kept winning, though, and..."

Geoffrey listened to his own voice back at him, chewing on his inner lip. Armand turned the recording off, leaning back onto the counter, the holodisplay vanishing. He said nothing, letting Geoffrey work his thoughts out on his own.

"I can see your point," Geoffrey said. His eyes turned upward towards Armand's. "What should I do?"

Armand gave a smirk, lifting his chin up as he assessed Geoffrey. "Firstly, get that pitiful look off your face," he said. "You're gonna be strong, confident, cocksure on the mic, but once you're on that battlefield, you're going to be your smart, cautious self.

"Because, my boy, that's how you're going to be the best to ever win The Brawl."