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Should he do it? Just forfeit the match? To admit before the crowd that their prince was too weak to fight back? After everything that had happened to him, he had no pride left, nothing to lose. Maybe it was better to accept his failure and resign himself to his shame. Lying on the ground, he raised his arm, about to surrender, but stopped, thinking back to a conversation he had with Tarnas. It was during the year of training, the two of them sitting around the campfire on an autumn night. Seraph was staring deep into the flames, into the light and warmth, but all he felt inside was cold darkness.

Their movements were rapid and well-practiced, displaying years of training to hone their martial arts. They did their best to avoid touching each other’s hands, but contact was inevitable, each having to negate the other’s attack. Every time their hands met, jets of steam and smoke would hiss from the contact, with Falco’s water coming to a boil, and Viktor’s flesh threatening to crack from the quenching.

“Really? You sure?” Her asshole had spread but gripped my two fingers tightly. I didn’t know if another finger would even fit. Carol just nodded, her eyes closed again. Her beautiful red hair cascaded across the island. Her pale skin against the dark granite was lovely. I pulled my fingers out part way and straightened out my ring finger. Forming a triangle with my fingertips, I pushed against her anus again. Already relaxed, her sphincter accepted my third finger with ease. I pushed my fingers in and out, but only to the first knuckle. I thought it might be too thick to push all the way inside. Carol disagreed.