All Chapters of Get In The Ring, Daddy.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

🦪 DORA 🦪Gathering the last strength flowing in my veins, I pop out my middle finger from the arm lying numb on the ground, raise it to his neck, stabbing him with it, so deeply. Not once, not twice, at least 10times with the same effect and speed.Another lesson learned, ‘Always fix your nails, make them sharp and pointy, it serves as a weapon and self-defense sometimes. In this ridiculously cruel world that cheats ladies, we do need a weapon.’Blood springs out of the little hole I created in his neck, and he capsizes from me, falling on his side. I can hear him choking faintly, as I am giving out myself due to the poison and extreme beating.I tighten my already slammed shut eyes to say a word of prayer, “Dear opponent… please die, so I can live.”“1,” the digital voice roars. “Time to assess the situation. Congratulations, Miss Dora, you have successfully assassinated your opponent as he just swallowed his last breath.”A choking sound escaped my lips as I thought, “Who answered

🦪 DALE LAZARUS 🦪Dora drags herself up, her figure moving towards me with agonizing slowness; each step is a declaration of defiance against a body that desperately wishes to fail.She is barely able to stand straight, leaning heavily into the air as if against an invisible wall. Her limbs seem to operate on borrowed strength, each joint protesting the demand of forward motion.Her face is a mask of brutal damage. Her eyes are swollen shut, sealed by contusions so severe they deformed the contours of her skull. She navigates by instinct, her head tilted slightly, searching blindly for sound or sensation.A network of dried, dark blood streaks her features, clotting her hair and caking around her mouth and nose. More of it stained the tattered fabric of her clothes, which hung like rags from her shoulders, offering no warmth or dignity.The exposed skin of her arms and legs is a horrific sight, covered in a shocking, extensive pattern of deep, patchy, multi-colored bruises, shades of

🦪 DORA 🦪“You killed my father…”“I told you I had a daughter, yet you killed me… You killed me!!!”Taking a human’s life is the hardest shit to do, but what no one talks about is the guilt that comes after taking someone’s life. I see this person, covered in bruises, blood pouring from his eyes, and every single hole in his body. Every second, I close my eyes, even opening my eyes doesn’t save me from the horrific picture that follows me everywhere; zero privacy from the dead.The nightmares? They are unbearable.My fight didn’t end in that darn ring; right after the physical fight comes the mental torment. My own brain is a parasite, a dangerous animal trapped in a cage, biting its own limbs because it has nothing else to attack. It screams insult at me in my own voice, replaying my failures until I’m factory-reset into a state of pure misery. It’s a civil war where both sides are losing.I drag myself up from the bed, slowly turning on the table lamp. My body still feels sore, bu

🦪 DORA 🦪His control fractures another degree. Both hands grab my ass, lifting, and I wrap my legs around his hips automatically. The new angle plastered my core against the hard line of his cock, only two thin layers of cloth separating them now. I ground down, and we both shudder, breath mingling in sharp puffs.But he isn’t finished kissing me. His mouth found mine again, gentler now but no less ravenous, licking inside to toy with my tongue, drawing wet sounds that made my inner muscles clench emptily. He taste of desire stripped bare, raw and unedited, and I realize dimly I had never truly been kissed before, never had a man lay every unspoken thing at my feet through the simple clash of lips.A whimper slips from me when he rocks forward, jean dragging across my sensitized folds, and I feel my panties grow soaked, the fabric clinging to every swell. I want naked skin, want him buried deep, want the power I feel throbbing in his cock to split me open. But I also wanted this… th

🦪 DORA 🦪Dale has been making me stab into the same location on the neck for hours. The carotid artery is said to be critical for oxygen.“Do it precisely and flawlessly, one precise stab in that area, and your opponent would be dead,” he has said, leaving me all alone in the basement while he returns to his room. And I’ve been stabbing, barely making any progress.Or it’s just because I can’t think straight, that old devil is everywhere in my head.Suddenly, I hear movement, not caring to look because I live with only one person in this house, one sly man that’s twice my age, and I feel Dale behind me.“Can’t sleep?” I blurt out, and he makes a weird sound.What’s that sound? A gasp or a moan?“Can’t stop thinking of you,” he responds, his voice barely a whisper.It was a moan.He begins to trace kisses on my back, his big, thick, rough hands touching and wrapping my entire body, one hand big enough to pick me off the ground like I am the size of nothing but one pencil. A moan esca