The Pit
By wistan



Sam sat in the back of the truck, craning his head to peer through the grating
that led to the driver's compartment. They'd been driving for quite a while
now, and he had no idea where he was. He'd tried looking that the GPS on his
phone, but he wasn't getting reception in here.

It had originally been a pretty good evening. He'd been watching some amateur
boxing at a local arena. Nothing too impressive, but fun if you were a fan of
that kind of thing. During a break he'd gone out for a swift pint at the bar
and found himself chatting to a rather attractive woman about the fights. He'd
bragged that as something of an amateur boxer himself, he reckoned that he
could have taken on any of the guys there tonight - though in truth, calling
himself an 'amateur boxer' was something of an exaggeration. She'd been
equally unimpressed with the fighters, telling him she knew a place where they
held 'real fights'. When he expressed interest she'd been only too happy to
offer to take him there.

He'd pictured them driving there in his car, but instead she'd led him to a
Transit van. He'd found himself guided firmly into the back with four other
guys. It was weird, and for the first time warning alarms started to go off
inside his head.

Now, nearly an hour of driving later, the van seemed to have pulled off the
main roads and was heading into some kind of small industrial park or
something. It approached a big building and a large gate rolled open to admit
it. The back doors opened. Sam followed the others out into the dimly lit
building. Half a dozen big guys stood surrounding them. Intimidating-looking
sorts. The little group was guided through a door and into a room lined with
benches. The girl from the bar was at the front of the room. "Take a seat,
gentlemen," she urged. The men sat, most looking around curiously.

"You're all here because you've claimed to be decent fighters," she said, "and
expressed an interest in a more hardcore form of fighting. Well, this location
is the home of a... well, I guess you could call it a 'Fight Club'. We do
straight one-on-one fights, MMA style but with more relaxed rules. The prize
per fight is ten thousand pounds."

Sam blinked. Ten grand! That definitely had his interest!

"The other thing you might be interested in is that we specialise in
mixed-gender bouts," she said. "If you agree, you would each be fighting a
woman."

"Oh, I'm up for that!" Sam laughed. Not only ten grand in the offing, but a
guaranteed win!

The next thirty minutes passed quickly. They provided him proper footwear, a
padded groin protector, shorts everything he needed. He was the first to
fight, apparently - within a few minutes of being ready he was standing at a
paid of big steel doors. A few seconds later a woman walked out to join him.

"You're my opponent?" He asked incredulously. She was tall for a woman, as
tall as he was - maybe 5'10". Her skin was dusky, the olive tone you saw in
Italian or Latina women. Raven-black hair was platted into a ponytail that
draped almost to the small of her back. Her features were strikingly
beautiful. Far more striking, though, was her body; she was absolutely
shredded. Not massively muscular, as a bodybuilder might be, but very, very
athletic. He rarely saw a woman who was so obviously fit and physically
capable, and he certainly appreciated it.

Better still, she wore a pair of black boots, a pair of tiny black shorts, and
a pair of padded gloves on her fists. And nothing else. He ogled the
impressive Double-Ds she was packing. Wow, he thought, what I wouldn't give to
get my face in there!

"I am," she responded, and hell if her voice wasn't even more beautiful than
the rest of her.

"So... after we're done here, you wanna go for a drink?" He asked. "I just
gotta say... you're really gorgeous. And obviously very into fitness... I'd
really like to get to know you better."

She smiled, the kind of smile that hinted at hidden secrets. "Well, let's just
say that if you're still interested in going for a drink after we're done, I'd
be more than happy to," she said.

"Awesome!" He was elated. Ten grand, and now a date with this athletic beauty!
Yes!

The doors opened and they walked through. Sam blinked in surprise. He'd
expected a boxing ring, maybe one of those MMA cage things. Instead he was
standing in a circular pit, perhaps forty feet across and twelve feet deep.
The walls were bare concrete, whilst the floor seemed to be covered in some
kind of soft matting. He could see tables arrayed around the rim of the pit,
with people sitting at them watching. Mostly women, he saw. Weird.

"Ready to go, honey?" The referee asked. Sam nodded. She raised a microphone
to her lips. "Our next bout," she announced, "the beautiful Belinda, one of
our most skilled fighters, versus Sam! Show your appreciation, ladies!"

Cheers drifted down from the crowd. "The match is one fifteen minute session.
The winner is the one judged to have done the most damage by the end of that
time! There are no falls, no submissions, no way to end the bout early. Nor
any rules concerning fair fighting. As always, ladies, in the pit... anything
goes!"

Sam frowned. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but that sounded quite
ominous. Still... Belinda might be super athletic, but she was still just a
girl. He didn't want to beat her up badly or anything - wouldn't want to put
her off the date later on! But whatever, he was confident that he could win
without being too much of an asshole about it.

The ref got rid of her microphone and a bell sounded.

Belinda danced on the balls of her feet like a pro. "Hey, nice form!" Sam
complimented her, smiling. "Nice tits, too!" Never hurt to ingratiate yourself
with a girl, he thought. He'd try giving her a couple of taps, nothing too
hard. He moved in and tried a quick jab.

She dodged it easily and before he could blink she threw a hard uppercut, a
punch any professional boxer would be proud of. It caught him just right on
the jaw - he barely knew it was coming and had no time to dodge, block or even
brace for it. He went flying backwards and collapsed to the floor, his head
spinning.

Belinda walked over, looking him up and down with a smile. "Oh dear," she said
with an edge of mockery, "I thought you were good at this?"

He clambered back to his feet, flushing with anger. "Lucky shot," he muttered.

Belinda's smile widened. "Let's see how lucky your shots are, Sam," she said.
She dropped her hands and planted herself firmly, feet spread wide. "Do the
best you can. I won't do a thing to stop you. Go on, go for it."

He came at her all wrong, driven by his anger. Belinda smiled and just waited.
He fired a punch into her ridged 6-pack abdomen. He grunted in pain as a shock
radiated through his wrist. Jesus, it was like punching a piece of wood!

Belinda laughed. Enraged, Sam punched her in the stomach again... again... he
really was giving it his all, she mused, and if he was a bit stronger and had
any kind of skill, he might even have made some kind of impact. But he was
weak. And worse than that, he had no idea how to throw a proper punch. Belinda
laughed contemptuously as he landed blow after blow, making no impression on
her at all.

"Well now, that seems to answer the question of how good you are at throwing
punches," she said, completely unfazed. "Let's see how you take them."

She went back into a boxing stance and advanced on him menacingly. Sam found
himself backing up, intimidated. This wasn't going at all how he'd expected,
and he was suddenly nervous.

Belinda launched another punch, a body shot that left him gasping. Before he
could react she landed a vicious four-punch combination - body, head, body,
head. He barely even saw them coming, and could do nothing to defend against
them. He was reeling backwards. She advanced again and fired a massive kick
into his thigh. Those boots looked beautiful on her, but he only realised as
agonising pain lanced through his entire leg that they were heavy things, with
soles a good inch thick. Maybe even with steel toecaps. She proved the point
by landing another savage kick, and he collapsed to the floor again.

She went to the floor herself, sitting behind him and grabbing his head. She
dragged it into her crotch and crossed her left leg around his neck, resting
her considerable calf muscle across his throat. She hooked the ankle behind
the knee of her right leg.

"Lemme give you a little squeeze, Sammy baby," she said mockingly. She
tightened the hold. Her calf muscle swelled as she tensed, and Sam groaned in
pain as he felt the strain on his neck. He frantically pulled at her legs, but
he might as well have been pulling on a pair of trees. Belinda squeezed
harder, and he whimpered as he beat against her legs ineffectually. "I can
keep this up all day long," she said, stroking his hair. "I'm using less than
half my strength on you right now. If I used it all, I could probably rip your
head clean off. And there's nothing you can do about it, Sam. Struggle all you
like, it won't help you one bit."

She released the pressure. He gasped like a fish out of water, making her
smile. "That's right honey, you get your breath back. And brace yourself as
best you can, because I'm going to squeeze again in a few seconds."

"No, please," he gasped. He struggled against her again, but it was just as
useless as before. "Please don't..."

Belinda laughed. "That's right, beg me," she said. "I like that."

He groaned as her legs tightened again, her calf muscle swelling to crush his
head once more. Sam grabbed her foot with both hands, yanking on it as hard as
he could. Belinda chuckled. "No honey, that's not going to work," she said.
"You're too weak. A soft, weak, wimpy little male. Helpless, like a little
baby." She watched as he turned red again. Such a pretty colour, she mused.

"Let's try this the other way around," she announced. She released him,
letting him flop back to the floor. The respite was short, however. In just a
few seconds she flipped him over and pulled his face into her crotch, closing
her massive thighs on either side of his neck and jaw. She hooked her ankles
over one another. "You wonder how hard I can squeeze like this, honey?" She
asked. "Shall we find out?"

Sam felt the soft material of her shorts on his face. He could feel the shape
of her pussy beneath the thin material, smell the familiar arousal there. She
was turned on by this, he realised, and the thought sickened him. He mumbled a
"no!" into her, but it came out as little more than a grunt. He thought about
trying to bite her, but God knows what she would do if he did.

"Here it comes," Belinda said, and squeezed. She applied the pressure very
slowly, the hard muscles pressing against him little by little. Sam still
tried to resist, but it was no more use now than before. He moaned into her
pussy as her enormous thighs closed on his head, the pressure mounting and
mounting. "Do you think I could crush your head between these big strong
thighs, Sam?" Belinda teased. "Pop it like a little grape? I bet I could!"

Sam made a terrified keening sound, petrified that he might literally be
seconds away from a horrific death. Belinda giggled to herself as she piled on
the pressure, carefully not using quite enough of her massive strength to
start breaking bones, but wanting to be as close as possible.

She kept him there for a five minutes, squeezing him almost to the point of
broken bones then holding it... letting the agony increase second by second...
then releasing to give him a few moments respite. Sam quickly gave up his
futile attempts to stop her and just lay there, sobbing in agony as she hurt
him over and over again.

"Hmmm, I enjoyed that," she said finally, rolling away and standing.

Sam struggled to his feet. He looked at the door, desperately hoping he could
claw it open somehow and escape the pit, but there was no chance - the doors
were steel, heavy-looking and obviously very firmly closed. It would probably
take an elephant to batter them down.

Belinda darted forward and her huge arms snaked around him, locking behind his
back. She leaned forward and pecked him unexpectedly on the lips. "Gimme a
kiss, lover," she said derisively. He craned his head back in disgust,
grunting at the pain in his neck. She'd really done a number on him there, it
felt like half the muscles in his neck were torn. "Well then I'll settle for a
hug," Belinda said with a smile. And she squeezed.

Sam grunted again as her arms contracted, feeling the air forced from his
lungs. She squeezed and squeezed, crushing his ribcage in an incredibly
powerful bear hug. Sam kicked and struggled, but once again it was useless.
She must have had triple his strength, at least.

"So soft," She said Her eyes bored into his from only inches away. "Do you
think I could collapse your ribcage, Sam? Do you?"

By now Sam believed Belinda could do anything she said she could. The woman
was a terrifyingly strong sadistic monster, like something out of a nightmare.
Her arms began to constrict, ever so slowly, inch by inch. He could feel his
face going hot, he must look like a beetroot. But it was as she said; there
was nothing he could do. He felt his ribcage compressing, literally sagging,
and although it was exquisitely painful he had no breath to scream.

Belinda released him and he collapsed to the ground in a heap. "Poor baby,"
she teased as she straddled him, rolling him onto his back. "Shall we
tenderise you a bit? Yes, I think so. Brace yourself, honey."

Her hands curled into fists and she fired a punch into his gut. Her own
abdomen was solid muscle, as hard as mahogany, the result of countless hours
of exercise. His, in comparison, was soft and weak. She felt her fist sink in
as the breath whooshed out of him. Before he could start whining again she
punched him again in the same spot with her other hand, then again, and again.
Sam tried to resist, tried to grab her hands, but she shrugged him off easily.

She could see his stomach turning red, feel it starting to become more
squishy. Thirty punches, forty, fifty. She was inexhaustible, like a machine
designed to deal out pain. Around punch number sixty, Sam's eyes bulged and he
turned his head and vomited a greenish bile onto the wooden floor.

Belinda's lovely features twisted into a frown. "Eww, gross!" She exclaimed.
He heaved again, but nothing came out this time. Belinda stood and kicked him
savagely in his ribs, eliciting a whimper and causing him to roll into a ball.
"Jesus, what a weakling," she laughed as she kicked him again. "I took every
punch you could throw. I barely even felt them!" That was an pexaggeration,
but he didn't know that. "Now a few little taps from me and you're puking on
the floor! You're pathetic!"

She knelt over him again, straddling his hips. "If your stomach can't take it,
maybe your ribs can," she said. She began to pummel him again, slamming her
fists into his chest. She was careful not to use enough force to break ribs -
she just wanted to beat on him him some. She pounded punch after punch into
his ribs, brushing his feeble attempts to block her aside with ease. He was
nothing but a punching bag, she thought, and he had as much chance of avoiding
her as a punching bag did. His breath became ragged as pain lanced through his
heart and lungs, but once again there was nothing he could do.

Finally Belinda stopped, smiling down at him. "Poor baby," she said in
amusement. She turned and slid his shorts down. Sam felt her fiddling with the
groin protector they'd given him. Within seconds she had that off as well. He
lay there, naked and exposed, as she pulled his legs wide apart. There was
nothing he could do about it - he was so badly beaten that every movement was
agony.

Belinda wrapped her long fingers around his balls. She circled them with a
thumb and forefinger, closing them to separate his balls from his body, then
curled her other fingers over the little sack of skin. "And now, my favourite
part," she said softly.

And then she squeezed, hard.

Sam bucked, flailing as pain he'd never known lanced through his groin. The
movement set off waves of pain in the rest of his body but debilitating as
that was, it was nothing compared to the searing agony inflicted by that grip.
Belinda laughed softly... and squeezed harder. Sam screamed, his hands and
feet drumming against the padded floor of the pit as she squeezed, and
squeezed, and squeezed.

Finally she released him. Sam flopped to the ground, breathing hard. His balls
were incredibly sore, and daggers of pain were lancing into his stomach. He
thought he might be sick at any moment. He managed to flop over onto his
stomach and tried to crawl away. The effort felt pathetic, even to him.

Get up, he had to get up, he told himself. He dragged his knees up under him,
groaning at the effort. Rest, he thought, just for a moment...

He had no way to see Belinda rising behind him. She carefully backed up about
five paces... then took a run-up and launched a brutal kick directly into his
aching balls. Every bit of weight and power she had was behind that kick. The
blow lifted his entire body, dumping him unceremoniously back to the padded
floor as he screamed fresh agony.

Belinda rolled him over and knelt between his legs, smiling with sadistic
pleasure. She reached down and took his balls in her hands once again. "Now
honey, if I were you, I'd brace myself," she said. As she spoke she curled her
fingers around him again, this time separating one of his balls from the other
and from the rest of his body. "I'm going to destroy this now," she said,
flicking it hard.

"No, please," Sam whimpered.

"Yes, Sam," she purred. "I'm going to do it very slowly, so you get the full
effect. Here we go..."

As she spoke, she took the trapped ball between thumb and finger and squeezed.
It was slow but completely relentless. Sam thrashed futilely as the pressure
increased, little by little, never slackening for an instant.

And after a minute or so, the inevitable happened. He felt a deep, horrific
popping sensation as his ball collapsed under the terrible pressure. And still
she squeezed... fraction by fraction, implacably crushing his nut to a
useless, dead pulp inside his body.

"Oh God, I love doing that," she said breathily. "One ball down, Sam. Now
you're only half a man. Time to destroy the other one!"

He begged, he pleaded, but it was to no avail. Belinda took the other one in
her grasp. This time she didn't crush it between her fingers; instead, she
raised her fist and punched his nut with brutal strength. Sam's throat ached
with the endless screaming, but again she was relentless; she pounded his ball
again and again. Twenty punches. Thirty. Forty. She never stopped, never
slowed, just slammed her fist into the trapped testicle until she smashed it
into mush.

With that, the bell sounded for the end of the match. Belinda smiled as she
rose. She had timed it perfectly! She paraded around the pit, accepting the
cheers and adulation of the watching crowd.

Behind her, the referee knelt down over Sam's bruised and broken body. His
ball-sack was deep red, turning rapidly to one giant bruise. She took it into
the palm of her hand and squeezed a little, eliciting a fresh moan of pain as
she felt the crushed nuts inside. "Hmm, such a beautiful sight," she crooned.
"I bet it really hurts, doesn't it? And the mental anguish... knowing that
you're not a real man any more. She's castrated you, destroyed your precious
little nuts. No children for you, ever! You poor thing. You must feel so
emasculated, having a woman do this to you. And for no other reason than that
she wanted to... and you could do nothing to stop her." She giggled as she
squeezed harder. "Poor little eunuch!"

The doors opened, and two large men came in. The ref stepped back as one took
Sam's arms and one took his legs. They carried him out as the ref walked over
to Belinda and raised her arm, announcing her as the winner to rapturous
applause.

"Think he'll still want that date?" Belinda asked her with a giggle.