Rob Slap Battles Novels & Stories

“C’mon, I don’t bite, Ms. Marquez, and I’m pretty sure you are aware it’s a criminal offense for an Olympic qualifier to beat a normal citizen, right?” “One more word, and you’ll suffer for it.” The guy who was bugging her completely stood down and chose to sit beside her. He ordered some whiskey and slid down a picture of a woman. “Can you fucking leave me alone?!” Sabrina burst out and punched the guy on her left. “God, can you chill down, woman? I was going to give you information about your beloved player.” Hearing Sol’s name was a bad trigger for Sabrina. The moment he was brought up to the topic, she instantly kicked his rib cage and started to beat him crazy.

SLAP! Natalia cried out, and Robert laughed. "You like that?" "Yes, Sir!" SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! He spanked her while fucking her, each slap making her pussy clench around him. Natalia was coming, screaming, and Robert kept going. "I'm taking that ass," he announced, pulling out of her pussy and pushing into her ass in one brutal thrust. The sudden invasion made Natalia scream, but Robert didn't slow, just pounded her ass with the same punishing intensity he'd used on her pussy.

Meanwhile, Bobby looks at my chest with fake, laughing sympathy. "You poor, broken bastard. If your wolf wants to die so badly tonight, my claws will make the kill quick for your soul!" I smile right at his tattooed chin, and faster than a striking viper, my left hand flies out and delivers a massive, open-paw slap straight across Bobby's face. CRACK! The explosive sound echoes like a thunderclap through the stone sanctuary as Bobby—standing tall at a massive 1.9 meters of heavy muscle—is spun a full 180 degrees through the air before his giant body crashes hard against the floor.

I don't kill, I immobilize. I was in the full battle mode now, and wolves were falling at my feet. I was ripping into the side of a gold-coloured wolf, I was distracted. Too distracted to see a rouge lunge at my right. The wolf knocked me to the floor and I growled as blood pooled from my side. The battle was drawing to a close, the rouges were retreating. The wolf tearing at my body was doing it out of spite. I struggled, made a last attempt to lunge and my teeth sunk into his throat. He thrust away from me and retreated, blood dripping from his coat. I sunk down as the pack began howling in victory, a soft smile working its way onto my lips

We were shirtless, stripped to the waist, sparring the old-fashioned way—no weapons, no armor, no mercy. Around us, warriors paused in their drills to watch. Brock lunged, throwing a quick right hook, but I ducked it, came up with a vicious jab to his ribs, followed by a sweeping leg kick that sent him sprawling. He hit the ground with a grunt, rolled, and came up laughing. “Still think I’m slow?” I asked, brushing sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. He gave a grunt of reluctant approval. “Less slow, more… dramatic.”

He sounded smug and Clyde rolled his eyes at him, not accepting the hand he extended to help him up. Two more pairs and then it was Sab’s turn. She swallowed hard before stepping into the battle area. She shook her limbs and took a deep breath. She drew the name of her opponent. It happened to be a guy who’s a few months younger than her. They’ve had a few interactions in class, but that was it. She couldn’t recall seeing him in a fight. Oh, what a disadvantage. She’s sure plenty of people saw her training. They would’ve probably thought of ways already to win over her. Whatever. She sharpened her senses and focused.

They will kill you. Right. Not girls. Not humans. In seconds, Sloan did a smooth roundhouse kick. He got one in the head. She grinned. Her smile showed teeth like a shark. He decided to go for an uppercut. Sloan hit. She blocked and circled him. Sloan got in a smooth jab before she struck him. Her punch was like being hit with a Ford Taurus in the stomach. They all heard his rib crack. Sloan flew backward. Another folanto was on him. The red rope was shot a second time. Again, the fire seared his skin as the cord curled around his chest.

The young girl looked at me and smiled maliciously, much to my dismay. Suddenly, a band of werewolves appeared from the woods by the other side of the road, with batons, knives and axes. As soon as they appeared, the young girl ran behind the eleven werewolves observing me. "The great and mighty Blade Ferguson, The Ripper, The Cannibal, The Dead man on loose..." Rising up from the dirt, I let out a chuckle to conceal my nervousness and the pain from the accident. "...I know all my names," I said, cutting him off. "But I doubt you fellas are here to remind me of my popularity."

'You got slapped, didn't you? 'No, I didn't.' 'I know her slap anywhere and that is one of her signature face ripping slap, your cheek has a nasty bruise, and that's good for you.' 'Just shut up, I got this bruise in a manly fight with one of the men here,' he said proudly. I snorted and rolled my fork around. 'Did you now,' I said sarcastically. 'Yes, a very manly fight with someone.' 'And how many blows did you land on that “man” you fought with?' I asked jestingly, making air quotation to exaggerate my mockery point.

I didn’t care. My claws extended. Reuben looked up just in time to see me storming toward him, face twisted and teeth bared. He didn’t flinch. But I didn’t stop. My palm struck his face with a wet, thunderous crack. The sound of the slap echoed, silencing even the murmurs. He staggered and dropped, hitting the ground with a grunt. Blood spat from his mouth. Still, I lunged at him again, clawed hands ready to rip into the very flesh of his neck—only to be grabbed from behind.