The buck stood before that crowd, nude as the day he was born, and perhaps almost as lost, and terrified. He was at a total loss as for what was going on, as before him stood a combatant, and behind him set his mistress. But why? Why was he to fight her, why would his mistress want him to fight? Just for her amusement? To give her some sick thrill? She clearly loved seeing pain inflicted on others, that much was clearly carved into his back at this point.But what of all of these slaves, battered, bruised, scratched, scrapped, and even scarred, the lot of them, why where they not just willing, but wanting to fight? What was in it for them all? Cheap bets, easy money, or more sick thrills?

The buck slowly turned his back on the sable woman in the middle of the ring, looking back to his mistress to ask her these things, to ask her simply ‘why’. But before the word could leave his mouth a sharp pain came to the side of his face, the sable woman having stepped in and slapped him hard in the cheek with that cane-pole. The small woman shouting at him “You're with me now! She can't save you!If you want out of here; FIGHT ME!”


The buck stumbled, reeling in unexpected pain with a loud groan. And there it was again. That fire, an anger, or ferocity he’d not ever had to deal with before. And in a bit of blind rage he hap-hazardly spun to face her, viciously swinging that staff. But his attack was off kilter, amateurish, and far too close to the side lines, causing the spectators at the edge of the ring to have to step back in a roar of noises as they did so. Squeaks, yelps, and chuckles rose from the spectators who where almost collateral damage. All while the woman was so far away at the end of her staff, that she was never in any danger of that swing of his.


She spoke boldly, boisterously “Come brother! Show me why you where chosen!” The fierce young woman used her staff to vault towards the buck aiming a strike at what most would have assumed was his head again; But she didn't want to seriously harm him, and his horns had a risk of catching the strike if she aimed at the crown of his head, and so she’d keenly chosen to aim for his right shoulder, assuming it to be the dominant one by his earlier swing. And down that strike plunged, landing unimpeded as the buck barely had time to try and react. Moving to block that swing, far too late as he was caned again, and once more shouted out in pain, almost brought to a knee by the ferocity of the strike.


Before he could again swing widely towards her, the woman had expertly retreated back to the far end of the arena. What she lacked in size, she made up for with a deftness that most others there simply would have lacked as well as a gift for intuition, that came from a zeal for combat, but a level mind in its throws of passion.


She seemed to revel in this battle, unable to stop grinning ear to ear, even as she herself stood nude before a crowd. How could anyone get such joy from something like this thought Jin. How could she be enjoying herself while so exposed, so open. His breathing grew faster, as between the pain and exertion, he started to work up a little sweat. Through him a surge of adrenaline that, like a great flood, flowed through his veins in strong heavy strides as his heart pounded within his chest.

The sable was able to see their Mistress sitting in amusement behind the buck, as she was waited on hand and foot by other slaves now. Literally using one for a footstool, while others pampered her sharp claws and held a tray with drinks and snacks for her. Between the two strong women was a silent glance given to the sable, she’d been given orders. Though none heard them, it was clear what her mistress wanted. From her past experiences, and her loyal devotion to her Mistress, she knew what she had to do even if it was something unpleasant; As was often the case with orders from the Mistress.

The sable held her ground now, her grin melting a bit as she held that staff out in a defensive pose, letting the buck have the next swing. And soon enough he would have taken his first real, measured swipe at her with that long flexible bamboo staff. She clearly could have deflected the blow, was perfectly poised and had the experience surely. But instead, she seemed to only deflect it. Not to clear her body, but to ensure it would hit her across her arched back, having leaned forward into the attack, with that cane bending over her shoulder as she leaned forward. And as expected, out rang out a loud *WHACK!* and a sharp cry of her own pain. She was sent to the ground for a brief second before, quickly clambering up and sweeping low at the buck’s legs with that staff. 

The buck, being as unskilled as he was, managed to lift one foot in time to avoid that blow, but before it could come back down, his other hood had been swept clean from under him. And so he, without a leg to stand on, went down. He lay flat on his back in the dirt where a hard strike from the sable's staff came across his chest, just as strong as the lick he’d given her, and no stronger. That loud *SNAP!* of the staff not to unlike the crack of his mistress whip as he went wide eyed in pain and seemed to almost white out again, the pain on his back and his chest so much all at once.

As the buck writhed in pain on the ground, the sable called out in panted breath. “One strike while on the ground is all we get. You must get up if you wish to keep fighting, or if you submit you stay down and raise a hand. Those are our rules.” The buck took a second, steeling himself from the pain, groaning in agony as he lay there. The woman walked casually around him getting to the more open part of the ring again ready to resume the fight, the crowd cheering him on with calls of “Rise Brother!” and “Show us your Passion!”


Through gritted teeth the buck snarl and stood up, using that cane staff to help himself rise. But before he could even ready a defense the woman had quickly moved to his side and delivered a snap of that pole across his stomach. However, almost unbelievably, the buck had managed to nearly block this blow, having seen her moves and able to put the staff out in front of him in time. But blocking it didn't stop the cane’s flexible length to curve around his own staff’s defense, and still slap him hard enough to sting across the side of his stomach. 

In a well rehearsed move the woman had lined up another strike aimed right across his back, her motions flowing like water down a river, one leading inexorably to the next in well rehearsed fashion. But that last possible instant, right before the blow was to land, just before it was too late was the mistress’ call came loudly enough to be heard over the roaring crowd. Her order of “Halt!” came, and not only silence the crowd, but also halted the salbe’s attack. However the flex of the pole did not stop it quite in time; but instead easing it considerably so that it gently tapped the buck’s freshly wounded back, even this sending shockwaves of pain ringing up his spine.


He turned to look at the Sable, but she had dropped to kneel in a dignified pose representative of her high rank. The buck seeing this, hearing the crowd go silent, and seeing all of the spectators kneeling towards the mistress he looked back to her as well. The Mistress held up one hand and spoke. “Spare his back. My dear slave of passion, your opponent is injured and must heal. I apologize for removing you from the display of your wondrous passion. And so, back to your places, and start once more!”

And as if nothing had happened at all, the sable woman,and the crowd, all returned at once to the event at hand. The sable deftly hooked a foot under the pole in the loose dirt, kicking it up and back as she did. A finely executed backflip later she caught her pole before it hit the ground, letting it spin around her body a few more times in show. She stopped, stamping it’s end into the dirt at her side, looking towards the buck in the middle of that ring; her wild grin back, eager as ever for more.

The buck was a bit confused to say the very least of the situation, and lost in his battle lust as was, it was hard for him to think. He looked and saw a small metal plate on the ground where the woman stood and saw one closer to his mistress that he soon understood is where he needed to move. And no sooner than his hoof touched this marker on the ground did his mistress shout “Begin!”


The sable woman was done toying with him, and came at him with a speed and ferocity that showed just how truly overmatched he was. She came at him in full fury delivering bliding swipe after blinding swipe her staff flowing in long elegant combinations that saw her landing strike after strike on his body. His hips, his shoulders, his sides, and legs all scream in agony under that expertly wielded cane. But, as ordered, she spared his back for the time being. As he yelped, and groaned in pain with every strike it was clear he was no match for her even lost in his battle lust.

Still now though, the buck was ever stubborn, and even if nearly defenselse held his ground. He himself swung and flailed that staff towards her, acting less like an extension of himself, and more like a child flailing a stick in the yard. His defenses where less than adequate, his moves too dedicated to each swing, never planning for the next. And she was thoroughly punishing him for it, and when he did make an attack, it was becoming more and more clear that the one blow he’d landed earlier was either a fluke, or as she knew it, an order from her mistress to let him have at least one good lick on her.


The woman punished the buck for a hard few moments, leaving cane lashes all across his body, spare his back, head, and groin. And just as he thought he had an upper hand, ready to block an attack every now and then, she saw it coming, and she would only pull back and come at a new angle. 


HE fought valiantly, taking a serious beating to not just his body, but his ego, until finally she had once more tripped him up. She did so in a humiliating fashion, simply sticking that cane casually between his legs as he turned to try and face her after a series of her attacks where she’d ran behind him. She watched him fall to his face in that dust, and with one very hard *SWACK!* Had laid the cane right across his ass in a true display of humiliation to top off the event.


She pant hard now, as did the buck, both winded, but she’d be still ready and able to keep going for far longer. The buck started to stand once more, but she knew the fight was over. She took no pride in punishing him any more, and so she moved to put a foot paw on his back, pressing him down into that dirt. She spoke in a calm, but exhausted manner “Stay down. Victory is mine. Just give me your hand brother. It's done.”

The buck was incensed by this further perceived humiliation, snarl at this thought and tried to stand up, in defiance of that woman who had a foot on his back. Only to have her literally straddle him and stand with one foot on each of his shoulders pinning him to the ground with all her weight, as little as that may have been. 


She watched  him struggle and pant under her, able to feel his helpless, exhausted body trembling beneath her feet. She kicked away his weapon with the end of her own, lifting hers high in the air with a loud roar of passion and pride as she declared herself victor to the crowd. This display was met with the cheer the buck had come to know as the end of the fight, the crowd declaring a victory in a deep loud roar “Hail Sister!”


It was only then that she stepped off of him and helped get him back to his feet. And as she helped him hobble out of that arena, panting, in pain and out of breath, that fire was gone from him. Lost with his defeat at the hands of that small, and beautiful woman. Though to him, the most curious event of all happened next where that woman who was also but only a slave, clipped a leash to his collar and smirked up to him. “You are Mine. “ The small woman claimed him proudly as spoils for the victor, the buck now reduced to a trophy for her.

Jin looked to find his mistress, looked all around for her, but she was gone. She’d left the moment she saw the buck go down, and knew the fight was over. He was left there at the mercy of the slaves of passion. At the mercy of this small woman who now pulled a leash, his leash, taught and drug him down towards her face.


“Kneel boy.” She said with that wicked grin still plastered wide across her muzzle. And so, not knowing what was going on, he did just that, kneeling as he’d been shown in proper respect before her, amidst this crowd that either circled around the arenas, or was lost in their own passions. His battle lust now fading from his veins, and freeing his mind once more, he heard that thumping music coming back into focus once more, and the smells of thick hanging smoke from incense filled the air. It had this whole while, but he was just now able to process its existence once more.

The woman placed her foot paw on his thigh as he knelt nude before her. Leaning in and getting right in his face she spoke candidly, “You’re lucky you know? Mistress really does like you. Not many get to land a blow on me like that. And you’re even luckier that I thought you where cute enough to want for a night! I’d hate to think what would have become of that cute ass if one of the males had gotten their mitts on you instead of me!” She chuckled uproariously at this statement, smirking towards him with the most devilish grin he’d seen yet from her. “Though, that would have been fun to watch I must admit. There is always next time you find yourself in the ring.”

“I-... luc-,.. What?” the buck stammered out, still out of breath and his mind still flooded with chemicals like adrenaline, as if he was ever the deer in the headlights now. This made the sable woman giggle loudly once more, as she smiled and looked into his lovely eyes. “You ARE too cute! Come on boy, lets goto the bath house and wash off this dirt and blood. That is our custom. First we fight, then we care for eachother.” she moved a finger to his shoulder where the cane had grazed him in the first few moments of the fight, one of the knobbed rings a bit roughly sweeping his shoulder and breaking flesh. Her finger swiping off what little blood there was and sucking on her finger to taste it.

A deep purr came from her as she now simply turned her back on him, and moved away at a brisk pace, leash in hand, giving it a harsh tug. “Come boy! I won you fair and square, so tonight you’re mine!” 


She kept walking, all but dragging him now, not letting him have enough slack to stand evenl, and so, he was forced to crawl behind this small woman, and keep her brisk pace that she set for him. 


That little burning flame of passion back in his eyes once more as he was forced to crawl. And he; he hated crawling. 


Always.