325: Rebellion
“BASTARD!!”
“TRAITOR!!”
The shirtless men were outraged when they saw that their so-called leader did in fact retain a cock, even if it was a miniscule one, compared to the poles they now sported thanks to Beatrice.
“To think he told us to be patient! To bide our time!” one of the shirtless men said as he charged a flame in his fist.
“To think he pretended to be in the same position as us!” another shirtless man lamented.
“Fucking garbage sold his soul to keep that puny little pecker!”
“To all guards!” Felicia’s voice echoed through the mines. “Kill these disobeying bastards at this second!!”
Dozens of masked men rushed forward from different spectator stands. Nearly twenty ran along the narrow paths from the entertainment area through which Beatrice walked last round.
“Woah, woah, woah! This is getting serious, isn’t it!” a spectator commented as he watched the situation in the arena rapidly deteriorate. Several men ran through the crowds toward the nearest exit. But a good portion of the spectators was too drunk or too busy fucking to care. Many of the spectators treated this as just another part of the show while they drank their livers into oblivion.
So, fighting cannot be avoided after all? Beatrice concluded as she watched the men with red and black masks run toward the arena across the narrow paths. Beatrice then asked one of her nearest cock-wielding subjects, “Those men are no friends of yours?”
“Most of them are Belmot’s Purple Capes who agreed to come into the ranks of enforcers for specials perks and privileges.”
“Fucking above their rank,” another shirtless man explained the specific of the privileges.
Corrupt city guard maintaining order in illegal underground games… Yep, sounds about right! Beatrice concluded.
“To all the remaining participants!” Felicia shouted while increasing her distance away from her enemies as much as possible. “Your final task is to kill these all these cock-wielding rebels! If you do this, princess Mary is yours to use for as long you wish to keep her as your slave!”
“She must be joking!” Number Seven sighed as he pressed against the hilt of his ‘Cleaver’ and finally stood up.
‘All remaining participants’ sounded more impressive than it was. Not counting the wounded and unconscious Lilith, rebelling Beatrice, and Olivia who jumped at the chance to gain a cock, only four participants of the tournament remained on the sidelines. And none of them seemed in a hurry to side with the announcer during her sudden plight. Number Ten, the beastkin woman, simply turned and ran toward the nearest path off the arena without saying a word.
“Look sharp! The slut branch is closing in!” Chris shouted to his comrades as the masked guards closed their distance toward the arena. He then fell at Bob’s side, held his hands above Bob’s bleeding cock and said, “Hold on! We’re not about to give up our manhood for a second time without a fight, are we?”
John used this moment of distraction to set his arms ablaze.
“Agh!” the two men who held his arms cried in pain and let go.
John charged his flames further, increasing the blaze to a fiery inferno that exceeded the width of his body and aimed it at the other men who still held his legs.
“AAAA-Ghu—” John’s eyes bulged and his body jerked suddenly while the flames around his arms extinguished as suddenly as they appeared.
Beatrice stood right behind John’s back with her finger pointed at the back of his head. The distance of nearly two feet between Beatrice’s finger and John’s skull was connected by a singer fingernail which penetrated John’s skull and skewered his brain for all of its available remaining length.
“Even after your cowardice was discovered, you still raised your hand against your former friends… Despicable!” Beatrice said as she extinguished John’s life.
The end of one of the leaders of the masked staff paused the rush of Felicia’s back up.
And as John’s body slumped to the ground, Beatrice shouted to her followers, “Do you see those lowly lackeys rushing toward the arena? They are answering the call of an oppressor to punish you for your choice to regain your manhood! But how can men dependent on privileges for pity sex ever hope to stand a chance against those who fight for their right to be true men!? They cannot! Those weak, second-rate goods for sale cannot fathom your steel resolve!
“Fight for your cocks! Fight for you dreams! Fight for the right to once again engage plunge your cocks in tight, warm holes and cum to your heart’s content!”