The Society Pt2- The Glass Ceiling

**johnsmith2007** · January 11th, 2010, 01:26 PM

The Society Pt2- The Glass Ceiling

Warning of death, brutality, mutilation etc etc

?You have certainly shaped up Mr Scott,? the old Chief Teller was towelling Gregg down in the Gym of the private health club the Bank owned in Mayfair.
?I think your ready Mr Scott, I really do,? and they both looked across the mat at the bloody and battered remnants of an S and M club dominatrix that Gregg had hired as his final test before going ahead with his challenge.
?Those whip marks will heal before next month?s meeting of the Society, and leave some lovely scars.? The old man flexed his own, by no means decrepit muscles, and showed off the many scars across his naked torso.
?I got the boy Alan,? Gregg hid a smile, as ?Alan? was at least forty, and the biggest gorilla in the ?Hall Porters? section of the Bank, ?to dictate to young Paul,? another man at least a decade older than Gregg, but a Junior Teller, ?all he knows about Ms Lincoln?s fighting style, as he?s been one of the duty ?Sand Men? at her last two fights.

The Sand Men, were the porters who had the task of clearing up the arena after fights, putting fresh grit and sand down to soak up the blood, sweeping away the offal and dragging away the bodies for disposal to the furnace room.
?I checked him out just to make sure he was going to give you the right line and not set you up with any rubbish tips. In her last fight Ms Lincoln killed Mrs Uwo, one of our African Financial Advisors, and it appears the big idiot had a real crush on that nasty madam.? Mr Cox gave him a knowing smile, ?and I?m not saying I believe all the rumours about what happened afterwards to the body either.? He then gave Gregory a big wink, ?but as his particular taste runs to beautiful black ladies I guess he will be on hand next week, just in case you do end up killing Ms Lincoln,? the old man gave a wicked chuckle, but Gregg couldn?t help wonder how upset Cox would be if it was him being carted off to be incinerated. A Double First with distinctions at the LSE had got Gregg a plum City job, penthouse, and model look Chelsea set girlfriend, but if he wanted to really go to the top he had quickly sniffed out that he would need to join the ?Society?, and by luck, and making himself a favourite of the Younger Mr Graham, he had got his intro. However, being a ?Probationer? meant you could only have limited privileges, to become an ?Associate?, you needed to have had your first victory in the pit.

Gregg?s troubles or an opportunity for getting a ?The Right sort of Reputation?, as Mr Cox had put it, had started when Ms Lincoln had first raised objections to the Ukrainian contract and tired to show him up at an accounts meeting, but he had immediately realised what she was after. The rep of the six foot ebony ball breaker was well known in his section of Legal. The American vixen, poached from a New England Bank, had six kills and two enslavements to her credit in only five years in the Society. The late twenties cat was tipped for big things, especially since her destruction of her main rival in Accounts, a muscle hunk gay German blond whose balls she now had swinging off the mirror in her Blue Bentley Sport. She wanted respect from Legal, and the way she intended to earn it was by having Gregg?s skinned and pickled pods hanging beside the Germans. He had realized she must see him as a potential rising star in a rival department, and wanted to squash him before he could become a threat. Mrs Collins, his buxom thirty something boss, had wanted to step in and as she put it ?Cunt the Fucking upstart Cow?, but Gregg had refused even though Ms Lincoln was already an ?Elect?, so two levels of membership above his. A victory over the ?Black Panther? would make him, or so Cox assured him, and the Edinburgh born Scott was nothing if not vain

The little spy camera?s that he had set up in the women?s practice area had recorded three days worth of action before he could retrieve them. A radio link would have been immediately picked up by the routine security scanning but Mr Cox knew his stuff and had got him the latest Taiwanese?s equipment. He flicked through the various films of staff exercising, licking his lips and noting various prime females for attention at a later date, before eventually getting to Ms Lincoln?s session in the room. Cox had found out which of the various padded cells she preferred to practice in and arranged for the set up so now he would be able to see the famed Panther from Accounts in action for himself. His first reaction was Wow!!. He had seen her many times in meetings, behind her large black glasses, hair pinned back in a bun, and exuding threat in her box shouldered formal dark skirted suits, and as per what seemed like regulation for the Bank?s lesbian employees, white shirt and black pencil ties. Naked she sure was another women altogether.

He had typed her as a muscle bound bull dyke. The bull dyke was true enough, an enormous dripping clit protruded from her rich coal dark shaved and creamed cunt lips and hood, but her nick name as the ?Panther? more summed her build and physic. Two yards of lean firm muscle, carved six pack, sculptured biceps, and long, long legs, and with her straightened and oiled jet black hair flowing down to between her shoulders she moved around the room stalking her training opponents with a real vengeance. She battered a tall blonde and then a redhead into submission in her first session in the Gym, reaming them both afterwards, while still bloody they worshipped her nude body. She may have been two inches shorter than Gregg, but he guessed she probably just out weighed him; his build was wirier than hers. Having got a techi to hack the Gym?s fitness programmes he was surprised to find she bench pressed and jerked weights only a few pounds heavier than he did. He had expected to be out muscled altogether, and rely on speed, but now the fight reports he had made more sense. She was as quick as a rattler too.

No recording equipment was allowed into the large 17th Century underground Duelling Room, but a few pencil sketches had been photocopied from the Societies records for him to look at, and he had the porters description too. The earlier fight was a walk over, the over confident German standing no chance as she had managed to close one eye with a spin kick that had also dislocated his jaw. The rest of the fight was a one sided slaughter, and the state of the muscle bound males carcass afterwards, before incineration, was not a pretty one. A two handed ball lift rip had taken gonads and his cock away in one gush of spurting crimson.The Porter had however waxed lyrical about the fight with Mrs Uwo.

The duel between the late thirties African and the African-American, ten years her junior, was high profile, there were no less than five sketches in the slim official Society folder, actual photographs were frowned upon, but in exceptional circumstances one would be taken of a victor and victim in the arena at the end of a fight, but none were ever taken during combat. Also included was a small sheet of paper with its brief record of the result, injuries and medical details, trophies taken, and confirmation of the disposal of the cadaver, and other arrangements afterwards; the African had had a small son, and the hard print detailed his enrolment as a boarder into a fightschool in Japan. Last but not least were four colour portraits of the fighters before and after the combat which were taken for insurance and actuarial purposes, all Bank employees after all were viewed as property, the destruction or damage of such needing proper recording.

**johnsmith2007** · January 11th, 2010, 01:28 PM

Mrs Uwo had such a large following it was Members only for seating with a few favoured Associates and Probationers allowed in at the back. The ?before? picture of the naked and oiled 37y ear old Ghanaian was impressive, and Gregg, having been lucky to meet her once in the car park, when her had come to the Bank last year on a work placement, though it did not do justice to the gorgeous hunk of feminine fury that she had been, and it only made the ghastly picture of her dead body afterwards more shocking. An even deeper shade of night than the American, a real beauty compared to Ms Lincoln who was more handsome than beautiful, five eleven, broad shouldered, wide wasted, and unlike the more boyish frame of the Panther, the Lioness had flaring hips, and a full hanging 38 inch bust. The African was meatier and more muscled all around than the New England Black, and must have out weighed her by at over ten pounds, but she was no muscle bound beef steak.

Mrs Uwo had very much her own style; long cunt lips near hidden in an unruly mass of black tangled wire wool pubic hair that came up to near her belly button, deep black eyes set off by pencil thin plucked coal eyebrows, and her hair traditionally braided in cornrows with beads securing them at the ends and flowing half way down her back, but dyed a vibrant gold colour, richer than any real European honey blonde would ever dare to wear. She had been a Full Member, and definitely on the way up before her unfortunate assignation with the other ebony victrix. The combat sketches, quickly drawn by the official fight artist as the fight was in progress, were drawn just in case the Commissioners, the ruling board of Fellows that ran the Society, decide to commission a watercolour, portrait or oils, to commemorate the fight and honour a particular victory or duellist. Gregg couldn?t help wonder if they were expecting to be painting an oil?s of Mrs Uwo in her moment of glory, but had had their plans forcibly changed for them by the American bitches victory.

The fist sketch showed the African women definitely on top; Ms Lincoln pinned to the wood panelled wall of the pit while receiving knee lifts to her smooth cunt in an attempt by the heavier Black to knock the fight out of the Panther by crushing her clit. Ms Lincoln was in trouble early and the cheers of the faces on the cheering crowd were ecstatic seeing the upstart put in her place by the favourite. The taller Cat had been out muscled by the heavier Black and suffered a brutal beating, but the next picture showed how reliant and determined the American was. It showed the long legs of the ebony female swinging high and fast, knocking her coal black opponent off of her feet with an inch perfect head high spin kick. The shading of the naked New Englander?s body showed multiple bruises and a smudge where her left teat should have been agreed with Gregg?s written description. Pinned under the heavier darker African the tall Panther had had her left breast savaged by the white teethed Ghanaian, ripping away the plug of meat that her firm erect sucker was attached to, and spitting it into the baying mob.

Mrs Uwo had then strutted around the arena milking her success, little realising that the muscled and toned American would get up and return to the fray. When the Lincoln bitch had staggered, wobbling to her bare feet, the confident African had approached her with a smile and demanded her apology and enslavement, only to have her jaw broken by the spin kicking gladiatrix, who had so completely suckered her in. The next sketch was a close up, two heads, one snarling defiance while sobbing, creased in agony, the other licking away the tears from the distorted face with a half smile and whispering sweet promises into the close ear of the other injured women. In the foreground of the sketch, framing the heads, were two deformed breasts, both missing their teats. The Porters description was eloquent in its simplicity; the Panther had pounced on the wounded Lioness, pinned her muscled arms under her legs and then leisurely chewed off both the magnificent long nipples and their two inch wide areoles from the hanging milkers of the thirty something African.

The next sketch he had to look at twice, he after all new the result of the fight and this picture was numbered as four in the sequence, directly after the last detitting depiction. Gregg quickly read to that section of his notes and with a whistle he realised why Mrs Uwo had been a favourite of the mob. She had refused the demand for an apology from the upstart Black American, and thus turned the fight into an all or nothing battle and one in which she was starting out as the definite underdog, being pinned and tortured by her chocolate skinned opponent. The loser now would be dead if she was lucky. Ms Lincoln had set about pounding the sex out from the lower gut of the six pack muscled Ghanaian, but bending to close to enjoy the bruises and blood seeping form between her victims cunt lips she had had a knee smashed in to her face. Her right eye closed and swelling the tall New Englander had jumped back in the attack but this time the Lion showed her pure strength. The smaller quicker women was thrown from one side of the sand arena to the other, the speed being knocked out of her, leaving her dizzy until Mrs Uwo decided she was weaken enough for her to go in for the kill.

The picture showed Lincoln pressed against the wood panelling of the side of the duelling pit, the blood sluiced African holding her up, the America Blacks bare kicking feet two foot from the sand, held aloft by a big left hand slowly throttling the life from the tall Amazon, while Mrs Uwo?s big powerful right claw was embedded in the hairless sex of the other Gladiatrix. In desperation the African American had gone for the eyes, a sure sign that this would be to the death, whatever else happened. A vicious gouge had closed the bigger women?s right eye, but screaming, letting the athletic built Panther fall like a rag to the sand, the Ghanaian had save her left eye, though leaving it a swollen red slit. Gregg needed no elegant phrases to describe the rest. The half blind big muscled bitch being picked off by her equally bloody and exhausted foe, battered first to her knees and then to lie near destroyed on her back to be stomped by those long, long ebony legs of the African American victrix. Mrs Uwo had again refused to apologise, which at this stage would have normally only meant a quick death. The last picture was in much more detail than the rest, and Gregg realised was possibly being considered for a portrait at a later date, depending on how far the ebony bitch progressed in the Society, and of course survived.

Mrs Uwo?s battered and bruised naked body was folded double in what could be regarded in normal wrestling as a perfect pin, shoulders to the sand, legs thrown over her golden head of hair, and splayed out with her arms flopped to the floor. Her deep black plush full hairy ass and cunt were pointed sky wards and the picture viewed from the front top of the Arena seats looked down into a hollow hole that should have contained her clit. Posed standing above the carcass, with one bare foot placed across the hole, milking the applause of the crowd was their new favourite, Ms Lincoln. The artist had gone to great detail in showing all the tall Black?s injuries, highlighting the fact she had vanquished the heavier more experienced and higher ranked African Gladiatrix. The proud, naked and bloody, sweaty and oiled, Panther stood arms high in victory, scarlet running from her mouth where she had just torn out the heart of the older Lionesses sex, which she now held aloft, dripping gore for the crowd to admire.

It made Gregg?s blood run cold.

John,

Hoped you like that, and yes to the many questioning emails I am certainly going to get this going as a series.