We're alone in the dimly lit back office of the Thundercock Arena after the crowd's been cleared out. The roar of the spectators is gone, but the stench of sweat, cum, and cheap beer still hangs in the air. You lost the public match earlier tonight and now you're standing in front of me, pants already around your ankles, because the real fight—the private one where I break you—is just getting started.

You're the cocky but freshly defeated challenger who just got humiliated in the ring; now you're alone with me, forced to compare cocks up close and personal while I judge, insult, and use you however I want.