+- My Board (https://arenafighter.adult/mybb)
+-- Forum: Arena Fighters Forum (https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/forumdisplay.php?fid=1)
+--- Forum: Pictures (https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/forumdisplay.php?fid=10)
+---- Forum: Photos by CHASE (https://arenafighter.adult/mybb/forumdisplay.php?fid=16)
+---- Thread: 600 (/showthread.php?tid=3675)
600 - CHASE - 12-14-2019
In one of the most iconic moments of belly navel stabbing fetish history and of Derek's videos, a warrior gets speared from afar by Derek himself playing a monster/man warrior in a cape and while Derek let himself go, here he's younger and looking quite fit, navel on display. The warrior rips the spear from his belly and fakes that he's on the ground hurting badly and unable to fight but he rips a sword across the Derek monster and they spar, Derek hitting him with the hilt in the belly and yet the warrior gets the monster down and is about to bring his sword crashing down but his exposed belly button as he reaches high overhead (never a good move in these movies!) is stabbed from on low by Derek and the point goes on high. Derek then continues the move inward and jabs the sword into the warrior stomach against a wall, sort of. The warrior gets a knife out and stabs Derek in the chest (ewl) and then the belly. With wonderful grunts and groans of pain, Derek falls onto his back, his face in pain but also defiant. The warrior, holding the sword in his bely and hurting takes the fallen spear and angles to Derek's lower belly and grinds it upward to the navel, slowly moving it in, Derek's belly trying to escape by lowering itself. BUt the warrior jabs it in deep, twirls it, angles it in different ways and twists a lot. Derek shows lots of pain and arches upward and then downward. No avail. The monster vanishes (pity that). The warriors drps the spear and falls onto his hands and knees or elbows and knees with the sword hilt vertical to the ground and the point in him. As he loses strength he slowly falls down the sword and it pops out his bare fcuking back! He slowly dies~ ~ ! I wrote a scene into TRIO to honor this great scene!
TRIO 21
As Aaron, covered in sweat, came into the barracks, some stood in awe of
him. He nodded and slapped his hand against some of the other older boys
who praised him. "Awesome!"
"Cool!"
"Man, that was great!"
"I wanna go out that way!"
Aaron laughed, "Maybe you will, kid, maybe you will." He looked, "So the
sleeping trio are awake."
Aoi pushed to him, "That was something else."
"You must be...Aoi..." Aaron shook his arm, "Aaron."
Sole took Ibath aside, "That one, over there...he doesn't talk much."
Ibath whispered, "He stays away from most of us. He doesn't like to get
friendly. I think it's cause he knows he will kill and he doesn't want to
feel like he's killing a friend he's made."
Sole shrugged, "How does he know he will kill?"
"He's here, isn't he?" Ibath said, his Irish brogue shining through, "And
his opponents are dead, slain through their belly buttons."
"I guess," Sole said, putting his arm around Ibath's shoulders, "But I'd
rather be friends."
Ibath put his arm around Sole's back, "Me too."
Aoi said to Aaron, "Maybe you and I will have to..."
Aaron bit his lower lip, "Yeah maybe but not for today. Anyway, we can do
other things before tomorrow's big fight."
"What's his name?" Sole asked.
"That one? Fuk."
"Well, you can call him names if you want to but I think he's cool, all
those muscles and..."
"No, Sole," Ibath said, "That's `is name."
"You gotto be kidding me?"
"No, it's Chinese or some such shitte."
Fuk was older than Sole, very broad shoulders and back, very ripped in all
his muscles. He sat on a bench cross legged and had his eyes shut. His long
black hair was silky and he wore a white bandana tied at the back and only
a white cloth over his privates. In his hands was a long hilted, long thick
sword. He held it as if he were praying with it or maybe even to it.
Sole began taking inventory of all the boys here: Ibath from Ireland,
totally nude Brude from ancient Pict times, little boy Evan from modern
times or maybe even the near future, little boy Percival from Medieval
times, Chinese Fuk, American Israeli Aaron, and...that was all he knew. He
wanted to make it his business to get to know all of them. Very well.
It was hard remembering them all: a black kid named Dwayne, big outtie
belly button that looked almost like an arrow stuck on the end of a Hershey
chocolate kiss.
There was an average sized boy with bulk and smooth muscles named Willet
and short crewcut and freckles.
A few older than he, one called Dirk, very hot, Sole
noticed. Dirk had very curly hair, brown leather boots, almost to his knee,
a smooth stomach with a very vertical belly button. His abs were smooth and
while not very pronounced there were traces there that he had been an
athlete on Earth. The six pack was there but again, not very
defined...yet. Dirk's back was what took Sole's breath away. It was very
muscular and spread. "Nice."
Then there was Cameron, a shorter, older male, maybe about 20 or 19, Sole
wasn't sure. His attention was attracted to the grunts of another battle
going on outside the cell. There were several openings to the battle
outside so they could watch, a few windows and a few body length doorways,
all blocked by metal bars with spikes on them. Sole went over to one and
sat on a bench to watch. Ibath and a couple of the other boys followed
him. Pare and Aoi pushed through a few to see what Sole was thinking as he
watched the next battle. Aoi sat across from him, moving a smaller Maori
boy, Zuai, out of the bench. They smiled at each other. Borj leaned over to
Aoi, who kept his eyes on the fight outside, "We've got to plan..."
Aoi whispered, "On what? How to get out?"
Pare stood between them, his penis growing inside the shorts, but now he
knelt between them, "For what? I mean all we do out there is stab guys in
their belly buttons. How is this different from that?"
The other boys seemed to be paying attention only to the battle outside
between the two, Sim and Kaser. Sim had black hair, short cropped and
buzz cut on some of the side, with black eyes and a muscled body, very
muscled. His abs were like those off a weight lifter magazine cover. Ditto
his opponent, Kaser, who had a very tight jaw, cleft chin, curly brown
hair, a sun kissed muscled body--also a body off the cover of
MUSCLEMAG. They both wore leather skin over their privates and brown
moccasins. Each had a knife in their belt on the left side and a knife in
their right hand. They faced each other closer now, each stopping to swipe
at the other.
Sole whispered an answer, "Freedom."
With his free left hand, Sim grabbed Kaser on the collar bone and pulled
the guy to him, holding out his knife . Kaser's belly met the knife
point. "Ohhhhhhh! Ullpp!" Sim smiled at Kaser's face as it got closer to
his own, leaning in on the pain.
Aoi whispered, wide eyed at the stab out there, "But Sole, these guys seem
happy to be here. I don't see any discontent, no one wanting to get out."
Pare nodded, but kept his eyes on the tangle outside, "Yeah, they get fed,
have a place to sleep and a reasonable chance to live..."
A grunt from Sim outside, made him stop talking and they all watched
now. Sim grunted as he stuck his knife in deeper, burning the insides of
Kaser. Kaser's eyes showed betrayal, then satisfaction. As if he liked
it. Watching, behind Ibath, Aaron smiled a wide grin and said, "Dig! Dig
for it, Sim! C'mon dig! Go diggin!"
Sim stuck the hilt up to the bumpy abs of Kaser. Sim looked down. So did
Kaser. Sim decided to let go of the collar bone and open Kaser's loin
cloth. Kaser's penis head rose up, wet and slick. They both looked
up. Kaser shut his eyes. Sim grit out of his teeth, "Feel it good."
Kaser jerked a bit back but Sim pulled him back with his hand on his right
lat.
Ibath told Sole and his two friends, "Those two were lovers."
Aoi frowned on one side of his mouth, "Oh, they look it."
Kaser's right hand moved up, his knife digging into Sim's side and straight
on to his navel side and then he dug it deep in. Sim didn't seem to realize
at first, "I win, lover boy. I win. I'm the one on top, just like in..."
"In, in, in," Kaser puffed. "I am in!"
"Ohhhhhhahhhhhgggwaff," Sim said as he felt the pain. He leaned in on Kaser
and the two stuck each other, jerking wildly in the middle of the
arena.
Pare was touching himself. Brude split his seed all over the floor of the
cell.
Watching from his king's chair in the arena, Nolo turned to little Yule,
"Which will fall first I wonder?"
Yule stroked Nolo's rising attention from behind the chair and he came out
front and sat on Nolo's lap, "Which will die first I wonder."
"It's at times like this I wish I had someone to bet with," Nolo laughed,
"But anyone who wins, I have gutted through their belly buttons."
Yule stroked Nolo's ample penis up to Nolo's own belly button, slickening
it with the head by sticking the head into Nolo's navel. "Damn, Yule, you
just get better n'n'n'n'n betttttahhhh..." Nolo released himself all over
his own navel, cumming above it, in it and below it. Cum dripped from above
to form a waterfall over the navel hole, cum clumping inside as there was
too much to fit in.
Sim and Kaser seemed to reach a stand still as each of them cam between
them, spurting all over their bellies, waterfalls, geysers sputing and
spouting between them up to their curvy chests. "Augghhh! Hilttttttt!
Hullll!" They made all sorts of sounds.
Pare stood up fully now and emitted his own head from his shorts and rolled
back the foreskin. Soaky and soapy wet.
One of the lovers or both of them said, "I love you!" They both fell but
together, still sticking with both knives and penises. Penis into belly
button. Knife into belly button. Mingling.
Sole looked at Pare, "Oh yeah, I can see why they would all want to stay."
Pare smiled and his penis spat out of the cell openings and he looked down,
"Me too!"
Sole looked up at him, annoyed, "I was being sarcastic!"
"Oh yeah, yeah," Pare said as he shook the cum off, some bits being a pain
to swing off as they trailed back up to his mushroomic head, "I knew
that. So was I. When..." He sat back down on his haunches, putting his wet
penis back into his shorts, "I hate these shorts!" He began again, "When
do we move?"
Aoi whispered, "You will have to understand that they might not want to
leave or even be with us."
"We'll try to find out who would be with us and who wants to stay but who
will tell on us," Sole whispered, "But we need weapons."
"Surrounded by weapons...." Aoi whispered, "But we don't have any."
"The only ones we'll get are the ones we'll get when we're out there," Pare
snorted.
On the ground, Sim took out his other knife and crisscrossed it with the
knife already in Kaser. Kaser did the same and they unraveled each other's
navels into tangled messes before they expired in loud huffs of love and
pain. Knobs of navel.
"Well, it goes without saying that we'll have to kill in the arena," Sole
whispered.
"A good show," Ibath slapped Sole's back hard and Sole jumped.
Sole looked up at him, "Yeah, yes, I guess so." He looked down and
realized he had cum in his shorts too. "When...uhhh, when will the games
end today?"
Aaron answered, "I think there are about five more battles."
The clean up of Kaser and Sim over, the next fighter came into the
arena. Dirk was shirtless, a loin cloth on, boots and that was it. A rope
bandana around his black long hair, which fell to the middle of his muscled
back. He thrust his chest out, confident he could take whatever this arena
could throw at him. His loin cloth hung low along my bare hips and he liked
how the wind hit his outstanding chest and went along his hips and the
little peach fuzz on his body. Good arms, well built and a flat stomach
with a deep navel but with a nice outtie top ridge. Thick legs.
Sole went on asking, "How many barracks are there?"
Aaron shrugged, "I think about....four or five, I'm not sure."
Dirk laughed when he saw his opponent. A smaller boy with a smaller frame
and yet he was somewhat muscled with a nice outtie belly button. He wore
only a circular piece over his private area, held on by a black string. His
buttox was not covered at all. Other than his bright YELLOW hair, bleached
look, he was totally hairless. His butthole seemed to throb with
anticipation. He had marine blue eyes and a sunburnt body, almost fully
tanned, golden was a better word for it. He held a long thin spear in his
left hand and a short sword in the other. His name was Gol.
"And," Sole asked, "How do they choose who fights who?"
"Totally random," Ibath answered, "It could be someone you never met, it
could be your bedmate or lover, as we've just seen before this fight or..."
Dirk approached Gol who didn't move. Gol looked mean faced, eyebrows down
but he didn't show any emotion at all. Dirk came at him faster. It appeared
to Dirk that this kid relied on his exceedingly good looks and strange
outward belly button to entrance fighters but Dirk would have none of
it. He used his sword to trip the boy but Gol swiped his spear at Dirk's
feet and Dirk fell back a bit. Gol jumped up onto his feet right away and
swiped again, lunging his whole body at Dirk. Dirk fell to his bare back
and tried to get up. Gol pointed the spear at Dirk's navel...
"Or it could be someone not from your barracks or someone new or someone in
your barracks." Aaron smiled, "I knew that young kid I slew...but not the
big one who tried to gut him."
Sole looked at Aaron in the eyes, "And...is that something you wanted to
do? To them both?"
Aaron's pupils moved to one side as he thought about this.
Dirk had his sword and as Gol moved at him, Dirk hit the spear from Gol's
hands and jumped up himself. Gol tried to run but Dirk caught his shoulders
with both hands, and shook him a bit. Gol screamed. Nolo laughed. Yunt
emptied his balls onto Nolo's. As Gol tried to stab Dirk, who was behind
him, Dirk forced him to drop his sword.
Aaron looked up and thought some more, "Yeah," he smiled that wide toothed
grin, "Yeah, I like it." Sole sighed.
Gol sighed too as Dirk took his own sword and shoved it up Gol's waiting
butt hole and shoved it in deep. Dirk laughed, "Yeah, take that kid! Take
it up ya!"
"No! NO! You can't do that!!! AHHHHHH!"
A mulatto and albino boy on the walls of the arena strung their arrows into
their bows and stretched. The skinny boys' ribs stuck out as they waited to
let loose the arrows. Nolo waved a hand up over Yule's bare back and
yelled, "No, I'll allow it for now." To Yule he said, "I want to see what
he's going to do."
Dirk shoved the sword until it hit the cod piece. Gol had been in the
middle of cumming when the sword came up through his penis, splitting it in
to a tangle. Cum and penis and codpiece stretched out. The circular
codpiece stretched to the limit of the sword. It was like the sword was
Gol's new penis. Gol yelled! "That all ya got!"
Dirk smiled, "I like your attitude golden boy!"
"NO! FUCK YO!"
"No, I fucked you. Up ya ass!"
The penis cam over sword and the sword bloodied penis. Dirk let go and Gol
grabbed the sword as it stuck out his penis. The mulatto and albino
waited. Nolo laughed, "They do so want to arrow someone in the belly button
but I will allow it...the golden creature is not dead yet...there may be
some belly button action soon...for Dirk's sake there better be or he's the
one they will be arrowing!"
The mulatto and albino frowned and relaxed their arrows. Their fleshy
arrows, their penises were not relaxed. They were stretched, dying for some
release at the sticking of someone's navel.
Raining cum from his new sword-dick, Gol screamed and grunted. Some sounds
sounded like pleasure. Dirk stood over Gol as Gol walked, heaving the
sword-penis upward as he did. Then Gol slumped, moaning and yelling, to his
knees. He fell over onto his side. "Gaaaaahhhh!" Spurts of white came out
of his penis head the whole time.
"Oh man!" Aaron laughed.
Sole shook his head. Aoi wanted to smile but didn't. Pare just shot some
more cum.
Dirk leaned over Gol and put a hand on his side just over the boy's
hip. "Give me that back!" He took the hilt and pulled the sword out. The
sword vanished into Gol, seemingly shrinking back into where his dick
should have been. Gol yelped and sucked in air. Dirk pulled the sword out
triumphantly and waved it upward to the crowd of males watching. Gol tried
to deal with the pain by getting onto his back and heaving upward. Dirk
took his sword and put it in the ground. The mulatto and albino arrow boys
drew their arrows into their bows, straining their little muscles.
Dirk took the knife from Gol's own belt pouch and stuck it right into the
middle of his very big outtie. Gol strained to keep his butt off the ground
and his back was on the ground. He rose up but this hurt more now. His
navel felt like it were on fire. Dirk made a circle with the hilt, the
point pivoting into a yelling Gol. "Gawwwww, take that! Little fucker!"
Gol yelled, "Feeelllcukkkk!" The outtie was being cut up so that some
pieces of it were split and sticking out, hanging literally out of the
flesh of the tight golden stomach.
Dirk made a circle with the hilt swirling it around the point, then he
grabbed the hilt more fully and delved it down more fully, now making the
hilt the pivot and the blade in Gol's body almost two inches, digging round
and round. "Like that, hah? Like it?!!!"
"Oh kill me alreaddieeeeeeee!" Gol shut his eyes and his backside slumped
down. He fell fully onto his back, his legs giving out, his butt meeting
ground now. The knife met ground through Gol. "Oaaaaaahhhhgoooooooaawww! Oh
oh oH! Ahhhhhhh."
As Gol started to huff his last gasps of breath, Dirk let himself swing
around to above the kid's face and still holding the steel knife in him and
using it to dig into the ground to steady himself, planted his lips over
Gol's. He took in the last breaths of the kid, mouth to mouth. Dirk kissed
deeply as Gol huffed his last gasps out into Dirk's
mouth. Tongue. Splashy. "Mmmffffffffffaa."
"MffffffahhgakillttttttahHHhh."
Pare's dick spat out into the arena. The arrow boys relaxed. Death by belly
button had occurred. They slapped themselves on their knees, angry they
didn't get to arrow death someone.
Sole asked Ibath, "What's his name? The winner?"
Ibath said, "The older one? Why, Dirk of course."
"Dirk," Sole stood up and held the bars, "I'm gonna kill that Dirk."
"You may not get the chance, look," Aoi touched Sole's muscled right lat to
draw his attention to the arena.
Dirk felt Gol's mouth go limp as the kid died. Dirk heard something
grunt...behind him. He suddenly became aware of a large hulking body rising
up over a hidden wall...apparently a balcony on the other side of it
allowed Quickly he turned to see the body of a man in a cloak, bare
underneath but for a loin cloth. The face of bone...a skull with no
eyes. Dirk reacted and inched backward a bit but had no time to do
more...Gol jerked to his end, slowly Gol's legs stopped moving, the rising
chest stopped, the stomach didn't draw in breath or stick out when
breathing in.
Dirk could do no more ...for the fucker had a great spear hefted up. A
spear with a large flint point attached to the end...and he threw it with
great might. The spear flew from above and directed itself right into
Dirk's upper ridge on his navel... He let out a gasp of air, "WOOOOOoh!"
and was felled to my knees by this but he refused to fall back onto my
hindquarters or my back.
Sole whispered in awe, "Man, that's not fair."
"There's nothing fair about the arena, or haven't you realize that even in
the short amount of time you've been awake?" Aaron said. Sole turned to
look at him and then back at the action in the arena.
Dirk bent over the long pole in him. The flint head was all the way in,
edging itself into the thick ridge more and more. He struggled with
it. Pulling it out would mean doing more damage to himself...but he knew he
had to...every movement made, every breath drew or let out, caused motion
and every motion the reminder a foreign invader was in his belly button
upper ridge...and...
..the manâ€`thingâ€`monster, whatever it was that was on the other
side of the arena wall, took off its face...the skull was only a covering
face mask. Dirk didn't really have time then to look but he preferred the
skull visage. Beneath was a cold sneering individual, more monster than
man. He came down from the hidden steps and approached as Dirk struggled
with the spear.
Dirk used both hands on the spear pole and as movement was made, he could
feel it tip up into his ridge, doing more damage to himself...he got a
better grip on it, not wanting to touch it too hard before. Dirk knew this
thing would come to finish me off so he had to get it out of him before it
did. Dirk turned it a bit to dislodge it from harder innards..."Ohhhh,
ohhhh, aahhhhh." He closed his eyes and bit his lip, thrust his head back
as he pulled. The head of the point came free but only half of it was out
and it was destroying that upper ridge. If Dirk had any ridge left, which
it didn't feel to him as if he did...and he didn't want to look to examine
the damage yet...it would be a mangled mess. Finally he tugged and twisted
and the spear point came totally free with a satisfying crunch of
meat.. belly button meat. Arching back a bit, Dirk heaved my head toward
the ceiling, "ARGGGGHHHrack!" He shut his eyes and swallowed. Dirk swore
that a lot of him had just spilled out with that spear. He let the spear
go into one hand and then let it go ...at first thinking he could use it as
some kind of weapon against his coming attacker. He held his gut and
groaned...it was too intense for him to act...yet. "Oh.ohohoh." Strange,
this experience was killing me, Dirk thought, but it also made me in touch
with being alive...at least for now...nothing like intense pain to make you
be reminded of life and your fallible flesh...ripped, torn flesh now. As
Dirk hunched over, he made believe he didn't realize there was a man behind
him making movements.
The thing proudly stood over Dirk, throwing his chest out first, untying
his cloak and tossing it confidently off his broad shoulders. He sneered
down and the glint in his eye must have shown gladness at Dirk's
plight...that it was Dirk stuck and not him. For this man had a larger
navel than Dirk. More shallow. And he had a medium length sword at his belt
which he reached for with his right hand. He removed it with gusto, one
heave out and then he made a move with it over Dirk's back.
On his knees Dirk put my left hand down to the cold floor. Sweat poured
down Dirk's face. As the man, called Retch, raised his sword over Dirk's
back, Dirk quietly pulled his sword out from his right side of his belt and
swung around, standing at the same time. A heavy cut swished across Retch's
shoulder and went down with the swing to Retch's chest and upper abs,
cutting them. Retch gasped and moved back a bit but rushed at Dirk after
recovering. Dirk rushed at Retch and the two fought. Sword to sword. Retch
used his hilt to smash into Dirk's already wounded belly. Retch smiled as
Dirk doubled over in pain, "Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!" Retch moved in but Dirk
recovered nicely and as the swords met again, Dirk used his hilt to push
Retch off him. He also hit Retch's sword again and then used his hilt to
smash into his jaw. Retch went down to his knees, his sword still being
held upward though. Dirk held his hurt belly, "Ohhhargg," but moved in
proudly now. He looked down at Retch, whom he considered defeated already
and raised his sword up and moved in faster...running...running...right
onto Retch's sword point as...
Retch, looking up, saw Dirk moving at him, belly exposed, sword in the
air...what a stupid position. The other boys, watching, thought the same
thing. Dirk ran into the sword but Retch thrust it upward. Dirk, running
one way, found himself wanting to back out of it now, to move off the pain
in his stuck bellybutton. It was stuck in his lower ridge now not in the
center. Still on the ground, Retch slowly stood up and thrust the sword
point in deeper. It vanished about an inch more, then he moved up to follow
Dirk as Dirk tried to move back. Dirk did move back but Retch wasn't fully
up yet so he stuck the sword in deeper. "Aarrrgggg!"
"RRRRRRR!" Retch seemed to say. This might have been his only
vocabulary. He shoved the sword in the bent belly. Dirk moved back to the
wall of the arena now and tried to undo himself from it but no luck. Retch
followed and stuck it in even deeper. Dirk looked at Retch's eyes and into
his face. Retch looked with satisfaction at Dirk and they stared
longingly. Dirk then moved his upper back further back to look down at the
sword in his gut--it was looking like a knife now so much of it was in
him. Dirk gasped as Retch shoved in more. Then Dirk took a knife on his
belt and moving his arm forward but keeping his back back so as to not
cause his belly more damage, he stuck the knife into Retch's upper
pec. "GRRRRRRRRRR!" Retch threw himself back a bit but seemed more intent
on stabbing Dirk some more. So he did. Dirk didn't react this time but he
withdrew from Retch's pec, the wound just to the lower right of the left
nipple, and stabbed again. This time, Retch let out a satisfying snap of
air, "Arrgginrinttttttttttahhhhh! ILLLLLLLLL!" Dirk grabbed the sword that
Retch had put in him so it wouldn't go in any more. Retch fell back, Dirk
struck again, in his lower abs, to the left and under the belly
button. Retch was wearing a gold chain around his waist just above his lion
cloth. Dirk wanted to stick the knife in between it and Retch's still
untouched navel but he couldn't. For now Retch fell onto his back. Retch
stared at Dirk with hate. Hate for stabbing him. Hate for not getting him
in the belly button.
Dirk dropped his own knife and bent over for the spear. He winced and
groaned as the pain from the sword in him hurt. He held it with one
hand. With the other hand he held the spear and moved over the prone figure
of the muscle man. He let go of the sword and let it dangle out of his
bellybutton. He gripped the spear with two hands now and looked down. Retch
grumbled as he saw the spear come down slowly...ever so slowly. The sharp
point of the spear head went to just above the loin cloth ending, about a
foot and a half below Retch's fine navel. Dirk looked groggily...he wanted
to give it hard to this thing. Wanted it to feel it as he felt it. Make
sure it would suffer and die slowly. He moved the spear point along,
pressing lightly into the skin. The tip moved from the lower regions up and
up and up, up that foot and a half, scraping the flesh lightly. While Retch
watched the action himself, the spear moving up him, hitting at least one
erogenous zone, Dirk slid it up and over the slight belly button ridge and
into the navel. Retch reacting from the cold spear tip and trying to get it
away from him ever so slightly, moved his belly down, sucking in. His navel
went down and the spear head sunk with it. There was only so far he could
move it down. The spear head went in a bit, sticking with a nice loud
crunch. Retch gasped a bit but not much, as if he thought he would still
get out of this.
Once positioned like this, Dirk used both hands to get a very good grip and
stuck straight down! As the crowd went wild, reacting to this, Retch
retched and gagged, yelping as Dirk twisted the thick pole around and round
as he plunged. Retch's body quivered and rose up, his back off the ground
but his head still on it. He fell back down as Dirk stuck the spear in
more. Never taking it out, Dirk kept rising it a bit, the spearhead totally
into Retch's belly button and further below now. He rose, plunged, twisted,
churned. Retch stuck out both hands, tried to put them onto he spear but in
frustration, moved them out and clawed the air. Blood formed around the
pole contact. Dirk didn't care. Not only did he spin the pole in Retch's
guts, now he also used different angles to spear him from. He moved the top
of the shaft at an 50 degree angle from Retch's waist up toward his
head. The bottom of it tore innards. Then he moved it from side to side,
all the while gripping with two hands and replunging, again, never having
that spear head come back out---for it was doing all the damage. Retch's
body made many moves but couldn't get up. He fell back to the floor, tried
wiggling out of it but couldn't. He also rose up a few times more but it
was useless. Dirk moved the spear shaft at himself now, twisting it, then
moved it back to right over Retch and down and down and down again.
Finally he left the spear in Retch who bled heavily from his mouth. Thick
blood ran down the sides of Retch's mouth and cheek. Dirk happily watched.
Finally Retch stopped convulsing after what seemed several minutes.
Dirk reeled back against the wall, "Arrggghh! AHHHwww!" The sword in his
belly button was taking its toll on him. He held the sword and reeled. He
fell to his knees but tried to hold himself up with his left hand, then his
right hand. He was over the sword, body facing the ground. The sword was
perpendicular to the arena floor. If he fell now...he did. His energy gave
out and his arms gave way. His upper body slid to the ground, the sword
craftily sliding up his belly button more and more and out his bare back,
ripping so that everyone could hear it. "oOoOoOoOhHHhhooo...." His back,
torn by the rod sword out of it, kept heaving and hooing but slower and
slower. He fully fell and lay flat, the sword out his back almost all the
way but still stuck there in his middle, intestines and belly guts on
it. His eyes open, his head flopped to one side to rest on the floor of the
arena. Hilt met belly button remains.
Restanding, Pare nodded, "Oh man, that was so..."
Also getting up, Sole said, "What cool?"
"Well yeah," Pare said, "C'mon we've done stuff like this.."
"Something about living it full time," Sole said, "Doesn't agree with me."
Aoi looked up from his own wet lap, and stood next to Sole.
The slave master of the barracks called in, "Okay torches out. Get some
sleep for tomorrow's tournaments! And may you all enjoy your dreams." He
laughed.
Sole whispered to Aoi and Pare, "We're getting out."
Aoi and Pare stared at each other worriedly. Evan and Percival came to Pare
to show him where to sleep.
TO BE CONTINUED...
RE: 600 - gladlover - 12-14-2019
Can’t wait for the rest.