Ben is looking for a way to keep his passion for boxing going, but he may have stumbled into something he was not ready for...
Story by Jack Ray
Writing by Celtic Fighter and Ballsboxing
Editing by Ballsboxing
Art by Jack Ray
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When he had been hired for "private fights" before, they generally took place in someone's basement, backyard, motel room, or store storage area. The places were dirty, the gloves and ring sucked, but it was extra money Ben could not say no to. It was also generally a few rounds of dicking around, some bumps and bruises, and beers afterwards.
This was most DEFINITELY not that.
These people's home or "The Featherstone estate" as they called it, was overwhelming. As he waited for the gates of the residence to be opened, he couldn't help but stand in awe. From the outside, one could easily assume that nature herself bowed to the majesty this family home commanded and demanded. Trees, flowers, and insanely complex designs of color and aroma assaulted his senses and impressed him to no end. Once granted entrance, this feeling did not falter. He walked through the front garden escorted by the very same man who had made him the offer and a few moments later they had arrived at the house. The foyer was bigger than his entire apartment complex. The cost along would dwarf that of his and all neighboring apartment buildings. He wouldn't have been surprised if one piece of decor here would cost him a life time of work.
Just what the hell did I get myself into? the young boxer thought to himself as he walked on the marble floors.
It all had started with the visit of a man dressed in a suit that Ben could never afford. He had just randomly showed up at Ben's boxing gym. He had offered him a large amount of money that could solve much of Ben's problems and leave him stress free for years to come. All that Ben had to do, was agree to a private fight with some reasonable (that would be stated later) terms attached to it. Ben thought this was going to be easy, he thought he would be able to knock around a highly pampered and inexperience rich boy for a bit and go home. That thought was rapidly burning in the pits of hell as he continued to walk through the mansion.
"You will now come into the presence of Lord Featherstone, do be on your best manners peasant. "
Ben's nerves burned worse than any beating he ever took. His mind raced with the possible scenarios that could transpire in the next couple of minutes. Would he be forced to succumb to the sick sexual pleasures of some overly rich person? Was he to be the entertainment of a socialite party? There was no way this could be for an actual match, no way...
"Excellent, you are here." Came a booming voice, "Enter."
Just as quickly as his mental state studied over the lavish lifestyle these people enjoyed, and what they would demand of him, it now focused on the lord of the castle.
"Good after noon.... Sir" Ben tried his best not to seem as nervous as he really was.
"I do not require your manners child, just your obedience. I assume you know the terms of this agreement?"
"Mostly sir, I was told that I would be informed of-"
"Oh yes yes." The rather large Lord Featherstone said, while waving him off, "I will explain that now, but first remove your shirt."
"Sir? What..."
"Your shirt, remove it now. Do not make me repeat myself."
Ben's skin, while normally a healthy tan color, turned white. This was it, this was the moment when he would become the sexual play thing of a rich man. He would be paid off to keep quiet, but at the expense of whatever self-worth Ben still had, at the expense of Ben's sovereignty of body. Ben sighed, but did as he was commanded, he could not refuse this money, he needed it more than anyone could imagine.
Impatient already, Mr. Featherstone was in no mood for this to be prolonged. "Your shirt" he said again with some anger. Finally, Ben obeyed and did what he was told. Good, Mr. Featherstone thought, this boy could be controlled with fear. Now that the boy was topless, he walked up to him to start the examination of his new tool. He had to ensure that Ben met the required standards. The rich man could tell that Ben was in his early twenties, lightly built, no defining features, some experience in the field to make the match believable, but not enough muscle to do anything. It would do.
"The terms of our agreement are as follows" the big man suddenly spoke "You are commanded to enter into a ten round boxing match with my son, the esteemed heir apparent, Henry Featherstone. You will assure that you engage with him, and put on a performance. You are permitted to hit my son, as this is a man's sport, however, you will bring not inflict any permanent damage. You will assure he not only wins, but that he feels powerful during and after the match. If you must suffer serious injury to do this, you will do so. Your incurring medical bills will also be covered. I trust you agree? You are permitted to speak so you can answer me."
This. Is. Insane.
In disbelief, Ben stood paralyzed, or at least that's what it felt like. Here he was, in an estate he could never afford and should only see on tv, being paid a ridiculous amount of money to put on a show, but ultimately be a rich boy's punching bag. He should say no, he should tell these stuck-up assholes to stick it, and just leave.
"I'll do it."
While it was some time later, it seemed but a moment, a blinking of the eye, before Ben was changed, gloved up, and in his corner sizing up a teen younger than himself, but far stronger looking... what did he get himself into indeed.
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Art by Jack Ray Twitter: https://twitter.com/JackRay85674939?s=20 Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100009316664767
