302: The Whip of Sodom
The headless corpse of the gazellekin slumped over its decapitator. More blood pumped out of the burst neck, covering Number Forty’s upper body in a warm coat.
The spectators all around the round arena platform cheered louder and louder with each consecutive kill, the complete opposite of the announcer who maskpalmed with both hands, appalled by the utter incompetence of the volunteer group she had such high hopes for.
“Finally, some good action!”
“She might just pull this off!”
“If that little grandpa's daughter or whatever gets through this, she’ll probably win the whole thing!”
“What are those explosions she’s creating?”
“Who knows!? Keep ‘em coming!”
Lilith pushed the dead body of the gazellekin off herself and rose to her feet but before she could take another step, a leather rope wrapped around her arms and blood-covered naked chest. It made several loops around, pressing the girl’s arms to her sides until the engorged tip of the rope slapped the girl hard through the previous layer of rope where precisely where her right nipple was.
“Ah!” Number Forty winced from the sharp—but not unbearable—pain. She turned her head back and saw that the rope that bound her breasts was in fact a whip, tense along all its length of over fifty feet, the handle of which was held by the furry, tiger-like beastkin that burned her dress, Number Fifty-eight.
In his right hand, the tigerkin tightly gripped the handle of whip, in his left—a massive metal shield with a protruding metal head of a menacing bull with large horns and a nose ring decorating the shield’s surface. The beastkin grinned and bent his elbow, pulling the girl just a little bit closer to him, showing off his power over her.
“The Whip of Sodom!” the announcer called out the name of the weapon, with some life restored in her voice. “Finally, Number Fifty-Eight picked some good equipment! It looked like the swap with Number Forty proved most favorable to the beastkin!”
“Yeah, after you just gifted him two whole freebies so that he’d stop whining!” Olivia grumbled.
Beatrice was certain that ‘Thelicia’ would have given the tigerkin the opportunity to take more weapons regardless of how he acted. It wasn’t as if the bias in this ‘special round’ needed any more proof.
But even if Number Forty’s tits and arms were bound, she was able to move her hands and fingers. Whether the tigerkin guessed the girl’s intent from the movement of her fingers or he simply heard a blade zipping through the air along the ground of the arena just above the surface, he reacted decisively and put his shield between himself and the katana that turned sharply to impale the tigerkin from a low angle.
Instead of cutting through the metal head of the bull or breaking on impact, the katana disappeared in a strange ripple that formed half an inch from the bull’s nose ring and reappeared intact through a second ripple that formed on the opposite side of the tigerkin, behind his left shoulder blade, and zapped forward with the same velocity, as if the tigerkin did not even exist.
The blade flew into the crowds and pierced an elephantkin’s ear straight through before crushing into the straight rock surface behind him, sending small rocks and broken blade pieces flying into the backs of the spectators that stood in the back row.
“Ah, The Bullshield!” the announcer moaned with joy. “Number Fifty-Eight would have been hard-pressed to find a better counter to Number Forty’s annoying tricks even if he tried. It might have taken five deaths, but our naked little cocksucker is in a real pickle this time!”
The tigerkin pulled hard on the whip, undoing the loop around the girl and causing her to spin forward and fall. She managed to prevent the fall by using her arm to spring off the rocks and create some distance, but before she got away the whip cracked and its engorged tip hit her through her thong right across the pussy.
“ARGH!” Number Forty screamed and lost all balance.
*Crack!*
The whip hit the girl on her left ear as she fell to the ground.
“Ha! About time someone put her in her place!” Some spectators cheered at the turn of fortune for the struggling girl.
“Fuck! Seriously!? After all that!?” others were disappointed.
“Come on! Don’t fail me now!” a beastkin girl screamed with a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
But a good portion of the spectators looked at each other in confusion at the particular choice of targets and the pinpoint precision of the Number Fifty-eight’s whip.
“Maybe he was just lucky?”
“Maybe she’s the lucky one? Hehehe!”
“Shouldn’t her ear be torn in half by such a strong hit of a whip?”
“Maybe it was? Can’t tell with all the blood the painted herself in!”
Even the tigerkin himself looked at the handle of the whip in his furry fist with bewilderment.
“The Whip of Sodom is no ordinary whip you see!” the announcer explained with the growing excitement of a spoiled child during Christmas. “It is designed to hit only the erogenous zones of its target! With enough force to stimulate but never to destroy!”