Bell Jar Memories Excerpt

Continuation from:  http://khayes54.blogspot.com 


Bell Jar Memories
Chapter Two

The humid autumn night kissed at my skin as I walked into Fracture. The warehouse sat right off  the East River, causing the temperature drop several degrees. The sounds of a fight already in progress sent chills all over my body. The thick smell of iron became stronger as I made my way toward the cage, someone was bleeding.  I stroked my dick, feeling it harden through my leather pants.  Sick bastard.

I checked the octagon to see if anyone I knew was fighting but didn't recognize anyone. I didn't really know any of the other fighters by name, only nicknames or tattoo that made them stand out.  I went on back to the locker room placing my cell phone, watch, and shirt in a locker. Taking a minute to rub my hard cock quickened my pulse.

"I was hoping you were coming tonight, Angel."

I didn't turn around, my hard on was too noticeable. I was going to have to adjust myself before heading to the ring. Opening the same locker I had just shut, I put my hands on my hips pretended to have something to do.

"Angel, huh?" I said to the voice. "You've got the wrong man I'm far from an angel."

"No, it's you. Everyone calls you the Fallen Angel because of the tattoo on your back." Erection forgotten, I quickly turned around. The young blond fighter had one foot propped up, leaning against the lockers behind me. His eyes went directly to my crotch, he licked his lips as if my dick had grazed his kisser and left behind drops of pre-cum.

The tattoo he referred to was the largest tattoo of the five. It depicted an angel sitting on the ground with her knees pulled up, hiding her faces into her folded arms. The wings pulled close to her body like she was trying not to be seen and was afraid to look up.

"Like I said kid, I'm no angel. My guardian angel couldn't handle the shit I had to live through. Looking away was the only option left," I said.

"Well, there is another name you are known as around here." He said with a smile on his face.

"What's that?"

"Popeye."

I looked down at the anchor tattoo and smiled. "Well, I do eats me spinach." I joked.

I took a step closer to the young fighter. Now that I got a good look at him, I remembered his name, Nick something or other. Looks were deceiving with this young bloke. Nick was small but was one hell of a scrapper. He had a left hook that knocked out many of his opponents.

"Look, don't knock me out if I offend you but are you gay?"

I nodded.

"I was hoping so. Have you ever thought about being a Dom?" he asked quickly.

Taken aback by his question, it took me a minute to answer. "A Dom? Like fucking a helpless man while chained down?"

"No, not like that. A true Dom and sub relationship. Here, go to this website." Nick took a hesitant step closer to hand me a small piece of paper. "The way you move and your accuracy in the ring is beautiful. The first time I saw you, I wanted to know what it was like to be under your hand. I mean it man, you're beautiful. You have no clue how many times I've dreamt about your broad shoulders with a flogger."

Nick turned and walked out of the locker room without another word. To be honest, I was glad to see him go, I was so uncomfortable listening to him talk about me in a way I never saw myself. Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I readjusted my dick, pulling the head up toward the top of my pants before heading out to the ring.

My fight was the last matchup of the night. While some of the crowd had headed home earlier in the night, there was still a large gathering around the cage.

My opponent was a man everyone called Red. Easy to see where he got the nickname, his hair and beard made him look like Yukon Cornelius from the childhood movie Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer. He was a stout man, built like a barrel.

I rubbed my hand over my own beard as I watched Red prance around the ring. I studied him for weaknesses, how he moved, and which hand he threw with first. This was going to be an easy match, I didn't come here for easy so I was going to have let Red hit my several times before I took him down. I came here to feel I wanted Red to leave marks. I wanted to notice the pain from him in the morning. It might not any sense to anyone else in my life, but for me, it was crystal clear.

Since the fights were unsanctioned, there was no ref to get in the way. The bell rang and Red charged from his corner. The southpaw danced right, then left before throwing a one two punch to my left side and then to the right. I felt my ribcage shudder as the blows made contact. The breath I was holding rushed out of my body like someone had pulled the fire alarm. Red, had a wicked gleam in his eye as if he'd won the fight already. This was going to be fun.

I played with him like a kitten with a ball of yarn leading him on, letting him think I was hurt far more than I really was. Truth be told, I hadn't felt this alive in ages. Each blow from Red was like a life forced back in my body. It was painful but I relished the feeling.

I had enough when he clocked me in the eye. I didn't mind marks to my body that could easily be hidden with clothing, but marks to my face couldn't be easily explained to the people in my life. Thanks to my dear old mom, I knew how to block shots made to my face, but this one came out of nowhere. My vision swam as tears pooled, begging to be set free. I wiped my face with my shoulder and charged Red like a bull. He had been foolish and turned away from me to face  the cheering crowd. He had his hands raised in victory when my first punch of the match sent him reeling to the ground.

Kidney punches hurt like a motherfucker. Red used the cage to pull himself the rest of the way up. The gleam in his eyes was no longer there, only confusion. It didn't take Red long to realize he had been played. He sobered up and started to prance toward me. I led off with my right hand and connected my fist to his left eye. Red had started to fall on his knee's but was stopped halfway by my knee meeting chin. Blood from Red's eye slowly fell down his face. He lay on the mat trying to catch his breath. His left hand slowly tapped the blue mat three times, signaling his tap out. Pussy.

Cheers erupted from the crowd. For the first time, I heard people yelling out Angel, like Nick had said. I made my way back to the locker room. I wanted a shower. I wasn't here for cheers or congratulations. I was here for myself.

As the warm spray ran down my back, I thought about how Red would feel my beating tomorrow. My dick sprang back to life with a vengeance. Red would look in the mirror and remember me for days to come. I slowly began to stroke my cock. The power was like a high. My dick felt that power, loved that power, and wanted a release. I stroked myself slowly. I didn't care who came in or if anyone else saw. This was the moment I had been waiting for. My pace picked up as I replayed the fight in my head. I moved to feel the blows Red had landed. I began to moan when my balls began to wrinkle and pull up, I released my load into the stream of water. I watched as the cum shot from my body. I felt happy. All the shut down emotions poured out of me. I finally felt alive.