7.123 - Coliseum VII

Natalie jerked awake, her position instantly resetting to the other end of the arena.

She took a calming breath, forcing herself not to scream.

It wasn't over. They were one-to-one. Hardly the end of the world. Not just that, Elida had almost certainly played her hand. The rage boost and the blood magic skill had been her two aces. There shouldn't be any more ridiculous surprises in store.

Elida had finished venting her temper, too. She wouldn't have the same stat advantage in this next round as the last, especially because Natalie wouldn't be leading this Dare. Elida would. She might be able to gain some Rage—or whatever she called it—by goading Natalie, but even in that regard, Elida's ability to profit would be limited. Plus, Natalie would force herself to stay in control now that so much was at stake.

Then again, she should have done so from the start, but Elida was simply too skilled at being a bitch. It was easy to say she'd stay calm, harder to do.

Natalie supposed Elida could "Dare" her to provoke her. Would that work? The Dare, by clear implication, had to be sexual. She doubted Elida could force Natalie to do whatever she wanted.

And maybe her skill wouldn't trigger if it was forced like that. Who knew? She was getting lost in theoretical.

She strode over to meet Elida in the center of the Coliseum. Natalie bit her tongue at the self-satisfied expression on her face.

"All the advantages, and you still lost," Elida tutted. "My. At least no one saw." She glanced up at the viewing stands. "Oh, wait."

Natalie didn't take the bait. It was getting easier as she adjusted to Elida's caustic nature. "It's your turn. What'll it be?"

Elida pursed her lips, not happy at Natalie's bland reaction. She appraised her for a moment, then hummed.

"After a showing that pathetic, you don't deserve anything more than my feet. On the ground with you. On your back."

Natalie digested the implication of that request. It was a lot less than she expected, yet still humiliating. Gritting her teeth, she reluctantly set her hammer aside and got down on her back.

Under any other circumstance, she would enjoy having a girl pleasure her in just about any way. Feet included. But when the entire point was that Elida was doing it as a humiliation display—and especially on the tail end of that loss—her blood heated up in anger. She couldn't stop it. Which was surely the point.

Elida walked over and stuck a foot out. "Boot, off."

Glaring, Natalie obeyed the implied command. She undid the strings holding the article of clothing on and tugged Elida's leather boot from her foot. She peeled off Elida's sock next, and the girl wiggled her toes, sighing in satisfaction at the kiss of cool air.

Stepping down on Natalie's crotch and squishing her cock under the loincloth—with firm pressure, but not painful—Elida said, "Now. Uncivil as we're being to each other, this still needs to be a meritorious discussion. So don't go whining and crying about how you lost fair and square, and answer my questions honestly, as I did for you. Yes?"

"There wasn't anything fair about it," Natalie snapped, even if she knew she was being played. Gods, but this girl was the worst.

Elida's eyes sparkled at the outburst. She stepped down a little firmer, and Natalie sucked in a breath of air as toes wiggled across her sensitive rod. Blood flowed down, pumping in and swelling the thick rod out.

"Nobody likes a sore loser, Natalie. You have unfair abilities, I have unfair abilities. That makes us even. Yet here you are, on the ground, being stepped on after all that shit-talking you did." She tutted. "Really. You have the gall to complain?"

Natalie took a deep breath. Then a second. "What's your question?" she asked, trying to ignore what was happening between her legs. Why did it feel so good? Why did being on her back with an arrogant bitch looking down at her have her blood heating up in both ways, once again?

The audience wasn't helping. She knew Vanetta was watching them from up above, and that really made Natalie feel—a lot of different emotions.

"I'll give you credit for the question you picked earlier," Elida said. "I need to understand what sort of threat you pose to me, and one question answers that best. I would have liked if you joined my team, and would even now encourage you to pull your head out of your ass, but I'm not blind, I see where this is going. How little progress I've made even after demonstrating my superiority. Thus: I need to know you. Your motivations. So I'll borrow one of your rare bursts of intelligence and copy you. What are your motivations, Natalie, in the short term and long term? Especially relating to me, and what you've discovered about my motivations."

Elida waited patiently for an answer, her foot rolling in circles around Natalie's cock, squishing the now erect length around on her stomach—Elida had flipped the loincloth to the side and, with her toes, pressed skin against skin.

It was distracting, but not so much she couldn't think. Especially since not giving a full and honest answer would disqualify her from the event and subsequently the City, she mulled over the question with the consideration it deserved—which was a lot.

What were her motivations? What did she see herself doing long term? What was she going to do about Elida, knowing the rather dark goals she had set?

"I don't think what you're doing is right," Natalie finally said. "But I also know I don't have the full context, and you won't give it."

There was a cool calculation in Elida's eyes that sent a shiver down Natalie's spine. She knew that, in this instant, this woman wasn't acting as some petty schoolyard bully. The stakes here weren't a set of lost gear and bruised pride.

Elida wouldn't hesitate a second to use extreme measures if she thought Natalie would get in her way.

But honestly? It wasn't a problem.

"I don't give a shit about you, Elida," Natalie said flatly. "Not in the sense I want to get involved with you and your mess. You just piss me off, and I wanted to put you in your place." She rubbed her forehead, frustrated. "There's a lot of messed up shit in this world, I do know that, unlike what you implied. And it sounds like you have good reasons for this. Your targets are Parda-Halts. It's not surprising. I won't approve of vigilante justice," especially patricide, "but is it something that offends me so deeply I'll break our promise and put my friends in danger?"

She grimaced. No. She was no saint, even if she tried to be a good person. This woman was dangerous, and not in the petty way she had assumed.

Though her earlier evaluations hadn't been wrong either. Elida wasn't a psychopath out to murder people for slights and petty grudges. She was out to murder specific individuals who had it coming in the deepest way possible. In every other regard, in the ways relating to her, Elida was the schoolyard bitch Natalie had assumed.

"No," Natalie said, shaking her head. "You … do what you want. As long as you don't involve me or my friends."

Elida studied her for a long, intense moment.

Then she smiled.

"I see," Elida said, clapping her hands. "Excellent. It seems we can be good friends after all."

Natalie gave her a flat look, and Elida laughed.

"Now, for the second half of the question?"