SLAM!

The sound of the hand hitting the wood echoed through the stone room.

"Sixty-eight," Belladonna panted.

Her voice was a little breathless, her face was flushed with a deep crimson colour that almost matched her lips. She looked intoxicated, but her grip was still firm.

Leo winced, rubbing his arm with his free hand. His arms were starting to feel a bit sore from all the loosing.

"Ouch," Leo grinned, shaking out his hand, "You play rough, Bandit Queen. And it is turning me on."

He reset his elbow on the table, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"But this next one? This is the big one. Match sixty-nine," Leo's grin widened. "My lucky number. I have a feeling the positions are about to flip."

Belladonna frowned, confused by the specific emphasis, Taking a deep breath to focus, she asked.

"Sixty-nine? Is that a Zarth combat formation? Or a some Temple of Light superstition I am unaware of?"

Leo sighed, shaking his head with mock disappointment, "You really need to get out more. But don't worry. I will teach you the meaning of it later tonight. It's a very... hands-on lesson."

He gripped her hand. Her palm was hot. Trembling slightly.

"Ready?" Leo asked.

"Always," she hissed.

Belladonna stared at him. She was confused.

The first ten matches had been a joke. He was a bug. She slammed him down without even batting an eyelash at him. It was pathetic of such a weak man to even think about challenging her.

But by around match thirty, something changed.

A strange sensation began to spread from her hand. It started as a warmth in her palm, traveling up her arm and settling deep in her core.

She felt a current spread through her body from her to her toe, and the sensation drained the strength from her body with every breath.

And right now, her arm felt heavy. She was a Level 49 powerhouse. She could lift a swarm of monsters on her own, rival the elites of the kingdom, kill a troll with a flick of her wrist.

But right now she was struggling to even keep her eyes open.

The strange, electric buzzing that happened every time their skin touched sunk straight into her nerves.

Her nipples were hard against her dress, aching with sensitivity. There was a wet, throbbing heat between her thighs that was making it hard to think. Her knees were shaking under the table.

'Why is happening to me?' she thought frantically, her heart hammering against her ribs, 'Why do I feel weak?'

'Did someone poison me?'

'Bane?'

'No, that idiot can't.'

'Then who?'

'Is it him?' She looked at Leo, 'No he is too weak. If he did something I would know.'

'But isn't he too good-looking for a weakling?'

'If he was a stronger, would he do it all with me?'

Her Dark, intrusive thoughts invaded her mind. She looked at Leo's grinning face and couldn't help but remember his words.

She imagined him overpowering her. She imagined him shoving her face into this table, ripping the back of her midnight blue dress open. She imagined him using her roughly, without asking, breaking her composure and making her scream so that Bane could hear her moan outside.

She shuddered, a wave of pleasure washing over her at the thought of being helpless.

'No!' She screamed internally, terrified by her own desire.

SLAM!

She slammed his hand down for Match 69.

'Focus!' she told herself, 'You are the Queen! He is just an insect for your entertainment.'

Leo feigned devastation as his hand hit the table again, "Aw man. Unlucky number 69. Guess I have to try harder."

[Master. You are shameless!]

[Deploying 'Magical Fingers' via palm contact. Targeting the ulnar nerve and bypassing pain receptors to induce direct pleasure stimulation.]

[Warning: Using 'Magical Fingers' in an arm-wrestling match is a violation of every known sporting conduct.]

'Who made you the referee?' Leo smirked, clearly not enjoying the taunts in Aiva's tone.

'It's not cheating, Aiva,' Leo countered, 'It's a tactical decision. Besides, look at her. She's barely holding it together. I am practically rewriting her nervous system through her palm.'

[You are overstimulating a Level 49 opponent to win a bet. Your morality stat must be in the negatives.]

'Why are you taking it personally? Do you want your master to lose and get his chest cut open? I am fighting for my life here.'

[You are just trying to slip your pole into her pussy.]

"You trivialise a man trying to save his life."

"You should be ashamed of yourself Aiva."

And with that Leo ignored the patronizing AI, and held Bella's hand for Match 70.

"Ready, my Queen?"

"Just... go," she gasped.

The matches blurred.

By Match 81, Belladonna was panting openly now. Sweat dripped from her nose. Her hair was sticking to her face. Her grip was slipping, her fingers slick with perspiration.

By Match 90, she was groaning every time she pushed him down. Her eyes were glazed, unfocused. She was biting her lip to keep from making a noise.

And in Match 99, it took her about a minute seconds to finally able to pin his arm down. Her arm was trembling violently. She looked at him, her lips parted, drool gathering at the corner of her mouth.

"One..." she gasped, her voice trembling, "One... more..."

She looked ready to pass out. The constant, focused pleasure signals from Leo's fingers had fried her endurance. She was running on fumes.

"Match one hundred," Leo whispered.

He gripped her hand. His hand was steady. He hadn't used any stamina; he has just been taking the hits, preserving his energy for the right moment. He would have ideally wanted to finish it of before the last match, but he has to be hundred percent sure. Otherwise he would just be wasting his energy in a lost cause.

"You ready?" Leo asked.

"Just start!" Belladonna looked at her hand tangled with Leo's and spoke.

"You don't look so good. Is everything alright?" Leo put on a concerned face and asked. He stretched his hand and touched his forehead, "You don't seem to have a fever."

"Eeehhh!" Belladonna felt that electrifying tingle spread through her face to her chest and her heartbeat rose rapidly. She tried to pull away from the grip, but Leo won't let her.

"Aa.. Aaaan... Unnn" Leo shook his head, "Not so fast. We have a game in hand." Leo pulled her back.

"Let's begin!"

Belladonna pushed. She tried to summon her Level 49 strength. She tried to crush him.

But there was nothing there.

Her muscles were like a jelly. Her strength was gone, and her body was entirely focused on the throbbing heat between her legs.

Leo pushed back.

He grinned. "Gotcha."

He used his full strength. It isn't enough to beat her at full power, but right now? She was weak as a kitten.

Slowly, inexorably, he pushed her arm back.

Belladonna stared at her hand moving down. Her eyes went wide with shock, "No... impossible... This can't happen."

THUD!

Leo pinned her hand to the table. The wood cracked slightly under the impact.

The room went silent.

"Oops," Leo smiled, "I win!"

And Leo's grip tightened, and before Bella could even have the thought of running away, he yanked her forward, hard.

"Eep!"

Belladonna was pulled off balance. She stumbled into him.

Leo grabbed the back of her head with his free hand and crashed his lips onto hers.

It was a searing, dominant kiss. He tasted her sweet lips, covered in her salty sweat.

Belladonna froze for a second, then melted. Her body, primed by 100 rounds of stimulation, gave in instantly. She kissed him back, desperate and hungry.

Leo hauled her up onto the wood. She landed on her back, her dress bunching up.

He stepped between her legs, pressing his erection against the silk of her dress.

His hands were everywhere, squeezing her breasts over her dress, gripping her hips, sliding up her thigh.

Belladonna's body had finally gone weak. She was not able to resist. She clutched his shirt, pulling him closer.

Leo broke the kiss. He looked down at her.

Belladonna was panting, her head falling back, her eyes fluttering. She was weak, defeated, and incredibly aroused.

"Let me go..." she whispered weakly, but her hands were tightening on him, not pushing him away. "You won... let me go..."

Leo smirked. He leaned in, biting her earlobe.

"Sorry, Bandit Queen," he whispered, his voice dark and final, "But you belong to me for the next twenty-four hours. And I plan to use every single second."

** ** ** ** **

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