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The sun set on the little seedy little bar in the middle of nowhere of the Nevada desert, signaling the commencement of the daily night-life activities. On the surface, Dick's Drinks - often referred to jokingly by its patrons as Dick's Dump - was a shithole in the Wall. The alcohol was dirt-cheap boozeahol, the food they served often gave you indigestion and worse. The air stank of a stench like a well-used gym locker room.

But, in the end? The shows were the tits. They were what made the people keep coming back to this dump.

Furs of all species and classes attended, especially for the shows - the upper class, the upper crust of society - often sat in the front with ski-masks to cover their faces so they could not be recognized. They often booked seating for their own security. Meanwhile the joe-blows and dregs of the world would often have to try and peer from behind each Other's shoulders. It wasn't anything odd to see some of the furs pull their pants down right there in their seats in appreciation of this sort of show. The shows of this seedy little joint involved erotic combat, with scantily clad, aphrodisiac-drugged women and men letting each other have it in full view for the gathered public to see. Beating the snot, blood, sweat, tears, and other bodily fluids out of each other in more ways than one, the loser laying prostate slathered in those same fluids after the victor claimed their prize.

Sure, it wasn't the flashiest of arenas. But in a rare treat, like this sport, one could not be picky. At least in the local area, there was not a better place than Dick's Drinks to watch two sets of poundings in one match.

***

Young Kari had only been there a year. At a glance, the little white furred mouse with large splotches of black and brown was not much to look at. Sure, she was easy on the eyes, but she kept her head low, her eyes away from all, hiding it from the world. A nervous stutter, a quivering hesitation in her voice if she was spoken to. Her head of brunette hair tied in a simple ponytail which dangled down to the middle of her back.

But a closer inspection revealed things that didn't quite add up to the others. Her arms were chiseled, toned, and her fists always wrapped even as she daintily placed mugs down for the patrons. All the while, her gaze remained slightly sullen, and there was a certain gauntness to her cheeks that revealed that she had seen things that most girls would never experience.

She waited on the tables with a forced, but well-meaning smile, stretching her cheeks to the point that they forced her eyes to squint. Her smile was like that of a porcelain doll, unable to ever frown, even when the patrons - both men and women - slapped her barely covered toned rump underneath a black short skirt that seemed to barely reach her thighs. It was the Dick's uniform, after all, complete with a white halter-top blouse, with only one button holding it together just underneath the ladies' bust, though Kari's were a little smaller than most. Her chiseled abs were a delight to sneak glances at while she took orders - it was unclear whether she was unaware or had to ignore the looks. Most who were new to Dick's didn't realize that the girl on the poster advertising fights at the little bar was the same one standing before.

And those who were regulars knew Kari wouldn't protest. Not vocally. Not loud enough for anyone to hear. Her demeanor made her a favorite to be challenged by newcomers. And no one dared spoil the surprise about her. You had heard whispers that she wasn't all that she seemed. Yet, in spite of the glimpses of her toned, taut, chiseled frame that you caught as you examined the goods while she took orders and hustled well-mixed drinks and greasy food out, her demeanor told the whole story. The way she carried herself. A shy violet of a princess. She would be begging for the D by the time you were done if you had your way in the ring with her. So you told yourself.

After a single night of watching her, you decided that was who you were going to sign up to fight during the open invitation night on Fridays at Dick's. It'd be a fun way to start off the weekend. And as such, you found yourself strutting down the ring, a handsome stud of a fox, with broad shoulders, pecs that you could halfway bounce like Terry Crews, dampened with a slight sheen to highlight every inch of your proud body, adorned with a black speedo like a ribbon on a present. Long blonde hair cascaded down to your shoulders as you flexed for the audience of onlookers to the tune of more than a few appreciative whistles as you nodded appreciatively to yourself as everyone gazed upon your Adonic, 5'10" body. Perhaps a little on the lean side, but you knew you were a looker to men and women alike.

You made your way into the ring, swishing your tail to the side to allow the ravenous audience a great shot of your toned speedo-covered ass, and even wriggling it a bit for the lovely ladies and gents in the audience as you slipped through the ropes, to which they hollered and hooted and whistled. You soaked in the attention, you loved all the eyes on you, as you flexed your guns, baring a fanged, predatory grin to each and every onlooker, waggling your eyebrows - you might get a bonus lay tonight after the prize round if you put on a good enough show.

It was then that the roaring crowd's cheering ramped up tenfold. The lights beamed down upon the entrance from the locker rooms, highlighting the little princess of Dick's Drinks, Kari Kazushige. Garbed in a simple baby blue bathrobe, there was no downplaying the fighter's physique underneath. A small smile peeked out from her hung head, her eyes shifting from side to side as she barely met the eyes of her onlookers, who gave her encouraging whistles and cheers. You found yourself frowning at the amount of people shouting for her to ride you silly and drain you dry. Even with her impressive bod, she was but a tiny 5'2", and her modest posture crossing her gloves underneath her itty bitty B-cup titties did her no favors.

She allowed the robe to fall away in the corner, revealing her fit body with taut musculature in a pair of sky blue trunks lined with a darker blue, causing the crowd to erupt in cheers and hollering as she bashfully covered up with her arms - a shy smile upon her lips. Yet, in spite of the attention, she turned her gaze towards you, and offered a polite smile, before bowing at the waist lowly to you and then rising to offer her bright red gloves to tap.

"Welcome to Dick's Drinks! I-I hope you'll enjoy our encounter." She forced a bright smile to her face, adorned with soft eyes. You could tell it was just for show, and yet even with that knowledge it still managed to melt your heart. And it was a shame you'd have to give her a bloodied lip to ruin it.

You flashed her a smirk as you tapped her red gloves with your own black ones. The twink-framed, petite squirrel ref explained the rules, but his words were merely buzzing as you locked eyes with the little mouse, who took deep breaths as she steeled her gaze to Meet yours. Something something dirty moves encouraged, no round breaks, blows below the belt were encouraged - it was more to sell it to the audience than anything else. Basically the only rule was to make it look kinda like a boxing match - Dick had little care for the sport, so long as the audience ate it all up.

As the ref finished, he backed up, eyes scanning from you, to Kari, and back again. He gave a thumbs up, as you both raised your gloves. You flashed another cocky, fanged smirk as two of the lovely triplet buxom bunnygirls who served as seconds, ring girls, and all around fanservice eye-candy, the pink-furred Berry and the white Cream, slipped in mouthguards for both fighters. Berry leaned up against your frame, and pecked you on the cheek as she did, with a quick grope of your toned buns with an audible spank. You felt your member strain against the speedo from the tease. All the while Cream snuck a quick copped feel of Kari's modest mounds. A quick muffled gasp escaping from the mouse's lips. Her ears folded submissively as she nearly melted in Cream's capable hands, with a quiet whimper leaking from her lips. Aw. She was pent up. You could tell as she tried to squeeze together her legs, rubbing those thick, chiseled thighs together. Probably saving herself for this match. For you, so you told yourself.

She started to bounce lightly upon the balls of her feet, guard and stance tight, as you eased into stance with your own gloves up.

DING!

Suddenly, leather pierced your guard, smashing into your brow and snapping your gaze to the sky, followed by what felt like a medicine ball being launched into your belly, sending your whole body lurching forward over the impact, the buried glove forcing the wind from you.

Immediately, you swung your right glove at her face, aiming to smash her across the cheeks. But your black gloves thudded against her's as she quickly snapped a swift right at your face, SMACKING you in the nose, and sending you stumbling back from the dizzying assault, already finding yourself on the back foot against this petite princess of the ring.

As you steadied yourself, she immediately darted in, throwing and twisting her entire body in a vicious uppercut. You barely got your gloves in the way to block the blow from taking off your head, yet as her glove SLAMMED into yours, you locked eyes with her once more. Her eyes had lost that maiden quality that you saw right before the match. Instead, they bore a sheen like steel. You knew that in spite of the fanservice, this would still be a fight, but your thoughts splintered. A blistering right hook smashed into your cheek. The room spun, twisting and turning before you found the floor by planting your gloves to hold yourself up.

You looked up to Kari. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of that old, shy princess look in her eyes. The eyes had softened as she sucked down a deep breath and bowed her head. She kept her gloves held to her chest as she bounced in place, seemingly trying to calm herself while teasingly denying the audience the view of that gentle jiggle of her firm tatas.

That knockdown had to be a lucky fluke. It had to be. Still, you had to give credit to the power and speed she had, as you pushed yourself to a knee, and then rose once more as you kept your eyes locked on her's this time. She offered a brief, courtesy smile as she raised her gloves, to which you maintained your glare as you raised your own gloves, baring your fangs in a scowl. Her eyes flickered away.

The twink-framed squirrel ref's eyes shifted from you to Kari and back again. His arm waved to give the signal to resume. Immediately, you whipped out a hard right cross at her cheek which she caught on her gloves, hissing as her guard nearly caved under the sudden blow.

You felt the knife of a blow stab into your ribs. You winced at that sharp leather sting, but you were a big guy. You could take a few hits like that. Immediately, your gloved paw lashed out and clocked her in the jaw, smashing across it with a left hook, followed by you pumping your right up into her exposed belly. Your leather glove cratered her sculpted abs, and lifting her off the canvas from the impact, taking out all the disgust, anger, and humiliation from the first knockdown and plowing into her.

"Gkk!" The stifled grunt from your impact was music to your ears. Your lips spread in a grin across your muzzle as you hammered another and another into her belly - feeling her body jerk underneath each thump of your fists against her statuesque belly with a satisfying grunt signaling each impact pumping her off the canvas, her firm tits wobbling gently with every rocking blow.

"That's just a taste of the pounding I'm going to give you later, mousey," you whispered while her arms wrapped around her belly as she doubled over with her mouthguard on the edge of her lips as you ground your glove into her taut, proud belly...

A brief hiss from her lips. Suddenly, her gloves planted themselves on your chest as she shoved you away. A swift flash of red smashed you upside your chin, snapping your gaze to the ceiling, before you felt it bury itself in your belly - spittle spraying from your lips at the blow.

You gritted your teeth. You swore, reusing to let this runt of a mouse humiliate you in front of this crowd, you told yourself as your ears flattened against the top of your skull. "F-fuck you," you whispered. With that, you planted your feet before swiveling into a heavy blow, smashing across her cheek and lips while you relished in the leather against her face, her cheek swelling from the blow.

Her gaze snapped to the side with a muffled squeak, more spit, sweat, and a little blood spraying from her lips. Before she could even properly look to you, your black glove snapped out again, smashing her across the eye, snapping her gaze the other way as you continued to take out your rage from that embarrassingly fast first round on her face. You smirked as you thought to how it would feel to really allow to release all that pent-up, swelling anger all over her face and tits and all inside her, pumping her full of your foxy anger.

WHUFF! The glove drilling itself into your belly shook you from your premature thoughts of a victorious release, pushing its way into your toned belly as your package hardened and swelled as it pushed its way against your already tight speedo binding your sizeable bulge, with the tip attempt to pierce the thin but sturdy stretchable fabric as the wind left your lungs.

Your eyes snapped to the mousegirl, whose eyes dug themselves into yours. You winced even more under that same steely gaze. This was the princess of the Dick's Drinks?

Still, clenching down on your mouthguard even harder, you planted your feet, tensing your entire body as you pumped a swift wrecking ball of a glove into her chin, lifting her footpaws slightly off the canvas, sending her to the canvas, sprawled out with her chest heaving up and down as she gasped for air.

The crowd roared its approval. After all, either way, someone would be having a postmatch celebration. And hell if you were going to spend it on your back. As much as there were fanboys of the mousegirl, they'd enjoy you fucking her just as much they would her fucking you. The fans of Dick's were weird like that - they enjoyed their champions flat on their back plastered with defeat just as much as they did them throwing their arms in victory.

You licked your lips at Kari's agonized face. Blood dribbling from her lip, which she wiped with the back of her glove as she blinked her bleary swollen eyes staring up at the searing ring lights above, bearing down on the both of you. Her red glove clutched her belly as she started to roll over to push herself up.

You slapped the effeminate rear of the twink squirrel ref who gave a high-pitched yelp as you threw up your gloves to show off for the crowd, flexing your sweat-soaked pecs for all of them to bear witness to. You felt like your dick was just about to burst out of its binding, smothering lycra prison, just barely restraining the beast. Thrusting your hips, you brought your gloves down to pound at your thighs as you simulated the facefucking you would give her to celebrate your win. Already you could envision the tears streaming from her swollen face as you relieved yourself down her throat after a hard-won match.

Using the ropes, she pulled herself up with a wince, huffing, and sucking down a deep breath. You turned to face her and scowled. Those eyes. If anything, they burned with an even deeper passion for the fight.

But that was part of the fun. Snuffing those embers out of that defiant gaze.

Raising your gloves, you lashed out with your right. But the swift mouse slipped to the side of the punch, coming in low... WHAP! Another sharp stab to your gut. WHAP! WHUD! A hook rocking across your jaw, and a vicious haymaker, pounding your muzzle flat as it sent you stumbling, finding yourself hanging off the top rope as the red blur smashing you in the face polished the sense out of you.

You tried to focus your eyes on Kari, squinting through your swelling brow. But her fists found you before you found her, and the vicious red leather slammed into your belly, again and again and again, slamming into your taut abs as she pressed her forehead against yours - steely gaze boring into your skull as her gloved fists carved out and branded your belly with bruised, battered craters, while your dick throbbed with need for release, as your stomach begged to empty its contents all over the canvas.

"H-hope you're enjoying yourself," she whispered, as her swollen gaze wavering for a brief moment, before she powered her drilling glove almost through your belly at the hem of your speedo. You lost control to the sweet and sour mix of the little asian princess mouse crushing your belly underneath her glove, squeezing and spurting the cum out of you, which seeped through the black lycra cloth-the contrast of white on black fabric highlighting your humiliation even further for the crowd to see.

Kari took a step back, and took a deep breath, clearing her steely gaze as she forced a sweet smile to her lips as her muzzle strained it forward. She then sucked down a blow of leather deepening your punch-drunken stupor, the ring started to swirl and sway about. You felt your tongue roll out of your mouth, blood and drool dribbling from your mouth, as the Princess mousette leaned hunched down before you, and kissed you on the lips, leaning her taut form, pressing her nips onto your body - her sweat-drenched fur mashing up against yours...her glove hammered into your belly, popping your mouthguard out into between her lips with a pathetic yelp from yours.

Spitting it out for you, she raised her right glove in victory, as she wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her left arm. Each breath causing her B-cups to rise and fall ever so slightly, as you stared stupefied at her bruised, but still lovely and triumphant form, the ring lights reflecting off of the beads of sweat on her body.

The crowd roared its approval, and you found your attention drawn to the screens above. On one, a close-up of your still erect member straining against its speedo, standing at attention. On the other, a slow panning view of Kari's battle-hardened maiden body, up to her swollen but still calm face. A clear signaling of what was to come to the crowd

You sucked down a deep breath and tried to pull yourself back onto your feet properly, biting back a pathetic whimper from your tenderized belly, your cratered six pack twitching with every breath.

No. You wouldn't let her get the better of you. No.

But as you screamed defiance in your head, the mouse's bright red glove lashed back out in a swift hook, followed by a wrecking ball of an uppercut snapping your gaze to the ceiling, which shook your already wettened, twitching dick, splattering more driplets of cum on the canvas.

You felt your whole body go limp as you hung off the ropes, with your tongue hanging

from your muzzle. Your legs slid out from under you as your gaze rolled from side to

side. The whole ring seemed to spin and the searing ring lights seem to sway hypnotically, as you felt your black shaft liberated from its lycra prison - a long, gutteral, low moan escaping from your lips.

"I-I see you're already...prepped for the next round...please enjoy yourself, sir." You could make out a formal bow from your bleary gaze, as she kneeled before you with surprising daintiness.

The mouse gently dribbled your white furred testes with her glove. Each little hit sent a little jolt all the way up to your chest, tightening it as you hung your head back and panted at the feel of the gentle dribbling glove teasing your hanging, fuzzy, ballsack.

You finally regained enough of your bearings to look down upon the one who conquered you. Kari's eyes were staring back up at you. They were not the typical eyes of a dominatrix. Even as her lips descended upon your shaft, taking the entire length in, her bright hazel eyes studied your face, darkened only by the swelling shiners-in-the-making you gave her.

Her lips gave off an audible pop as she leaned back, quickly undoing the ties on her gloves and tossing them to the side, revealing the sweaty wrappings upon her fingers. Her slender digits wrapped themselves around your cock, as she gazed up at you.

Her fingers were rough, callous. But the leathery texture was assuaged by the practiced gentleness she infused into each pull of your dick. Her other paw rolled your balls around in her grasp. It was enough to make you melt...before she gave a tight vice-like squeeze of your dick, making your body jerk with the suddenness. Her jerking paw was thankfully lubed by her spit upon your dick from her earlier teasing, and the tightness sent you riding on the border between heaven and hell. You shuddered with every pant, and your eyes rolled back into your head as she continued to speed up gradually - wrappings and calloused fingers threatening to rub your dick raw.

"F-fuck...fuck...!" you whispered breathlessly as your hips bucked into her paw, your furry balls swelling as your length hardened, growing to its full, swollen eight inches, with its girth halfway the thickness of her toned, yet slender arm.

Kari then leaned forward and kissed the tip gently, cleaning the head with the tip of her tongue, sending a shiver up and down your body as you whimpered, feeling your sack and shaft about to explode. Her ears folded slightly as she caressed your sack, as if to comfort you, before she pushed herself off the canvas and rose slowly, as if a tantalizing, teasing dance. She offered that same porcelain smile which stretched against her cheeks. You couldn't help but return the same awkward grin to her even as you failed to slow your ragged breathing.

She slid her trunks down her sculpted legs, allowing her glistening trimmed bush to be revealed - her loins already soaked with need. And as the roar of the crowd climaxed with wolf-whistles and catcalls, she instinctively covered her breasts with one arm and her nethers with her other paw - which only seemed to serve to fuel the flames of passionate obsession from the audience.

Suddenly, her right glove whipped out. WHAP! You yelp!ed as it smashed you off the ropes onto the canvas, onto your side and arm. Her bare footpaw gently shoved at your bruised ribs, urging you to roll onto your back. You obeyed the gentle mistress, as your shaft waved in the air. The only thing left was to raise the white sticky flag of surrender.

She planted her wrapped paws on your shoulders, pinning them to the canvas as she lowered herself gently upon your shaft. The mouse bit her lip as she forced your dick to pierce her tight maiden folds, your dick sliding into her velvety folds, as her swollen eyes squeezed tighter as she took in every inch slowly. And as she finally hilted herself, a shrill squeak escaped her lips - as she sucked down deep breaths to try and take control of herself.

"Do you love it...do you love me...?" she whispered.

You stared up at her, bleary eyes making it seem like a dream - and the swimming sensation in your head didn't help it. The question confused you, but you nodded dumbly, before you really started to love her as she started to pump herself down and up and down your shaft, allowing her hips to slap against yours, drowned out by the roar of the crowd, who started to clap in time with her bouncing. Each drop of her hips drew out more and more breathless panting and whimpering from you. Her own face seemed to try to screw itself shut, her eyes squeezed shut as she panted, her folds seeming to try and suck you dry, squeezing and wringing out your monster of a member, making it her bitch as she bounced upon it, beads of sweat dripping from her body on top of you as her moist juices dribbled from between her legs onto your crotch and down her thighs.

"Ah...ahhh...!" she squeaked out, as her modest chest jiggled ever gently with every pump against you, ragged panting being forcefully vented from her petite body as she milked your member with her inner walls, expertly drawing the fluid from your engorged sack to the tip as she bounced upon you. "Give me it all...give me every drop...!" she gasped out. "Bark for me. Bark and let me know how much you love it...!"

Laying breathlessly as you were ridden by this nymph of a mouse, you found yourself barking at her command. She reached up and caressed your cheek as she continued to piston herself down upon you, lust-drunk eyes gazing into yours, lidded by the swelling from the earlier pounding, before she leaned back on one paw, as she grasped her own chest and started to fondle herself as she rode you. "A-ah...g-good boy...ah...n-now cum for me...cum...!"

You continued to bark with every bounce of her hips, feeling your entire shaft swell with need for release as if at her command, before you arched your hips, and flooded her depths with your fox seed, every thrust overflowing her tiny pussy with thick cum,

geysering up into her in thick waves, as she bounced upon you with a rabid fervor, letting out a series of squeaks to the ringlights as she the crowd roared its approval. The screen above the ring captured every little bit of dropped seed as it dribbled out from her strained, stretched lips all over your furred crotch and dried out sack. Your eyes rolled back into your head.

Beaten, broken, defeated, and left covered in a pool of your own sticky white flag of surrender. Surely, this couldn't get any worse.

The mouse pulled herself off your dick as she felt it soften, and you shut your eyes - someone would drag your sorry ass back to the locker rooms.

Then, suddenly, something sticky and furry mashed itself against your face, enveloping your muzzle. It smelled of sweetness as well as the bitterness of defeat. "Th-thank you. I hope we can do this again," she gasped out, as her wrapped paw ruffled the headfur between your head as she bucked her hips gently against your muzzle. The scent, lights, and sensation of having her ride your face was dizzying, intoxicating. You felt the room swim more...more...until...