Getting spoiled in a woman dominating world

*thud*

Brandon rolled down on the floor with his back but he quickly pivoted and got back up.

He glanced at Yverine, who was standing against him wearing a sports bra and tight shorts as her abs flexed with each breath.

She lightly jumped on her feet and muttered "That's it? Thats all the great Herald's got?"

Brandon wiped a smear of sweat off his brow and let out a slow exhale "Just warming up."

"Oh? You were already warm when I kicked you five minutes ago."

Brandon closed the gap with a forward rush and launched a swift right jab aimed at her shoulder to distract, followed by a snapping left hook.

Yverine parried the jab, ducked under the hook, and immediately spun low to sweep his legs.

He jumped, barely clearing the sweep, and twisted midair to bring his heel down for an axe kick.

She sidestepped and her eyes narrowed.

The mat boomed with the impact of his foot as she evaded, and Brandon pivoted, throwing a quick pair of jabs toward her chest.

She blocked the first and caught the second.

"Too slow."

With a smirk, she pulled him forward and he used the momentum to twist his torso and tried to elbow her, but she bent back and knee'd him in the stomach.

Whump!

"Ugh-!"

Brandon reeled but kept his footing, gritting his teeth.

He swung a roundhouse kick, but she ducked and then countered with a palm strike to his chest, sending him staggering back a step.

"Come on, Brandon," she teased. "I've seen cats fight better."

Yverine stepped forward again and snapped a jab at his chin, then a low kick to his thigh.

Brandon blocked both and retaliated with a jab to her ribs.

She twisted and avoided it, but in the brief moment her guard was down...

Smack!

Brandon's hand whipped down and gave a strong slap on her ass cheeks making them jiggle.

Time froze for a full second.

Yverine's entire body stiffened like she had just been zapped by a bolt of lightning.

Her cheeks flushed red and her mouth dropped open in disbelief.

The noise of the ass slap echoed just enough in the wide arena to make it sound extra scandalous.

"…Pervert!!" she shouted, whirling around and smacking his hand away as if it had offended her entire bloodline.

Brandon burst out laughing and stumbled back as he raised his hands defensively. "Hey, hey, it was a distraction tactic. Totally legal under sparring rules."

"In what world?!"

"The world where I'm losing and desperate."

She stormed forward and punched him in the shoulder.

Thump!

"OW!" He staggered back for a moment.

"And that's for being a Pervert."

Brandon winced again, "Augh… I think you hit it too hard… my shoulder hurts. Like- genuinely."

Yverine was stunned. "Wait, seriously?"

He nodded his head panifully "I don't know if you dislocated it, or bruised it, or- it really hurts."

Yverine quickly stepped forward, grabbing his wrist gently "Wait, what?! Show me, show me, did it dislocate? Can you move it? Oh no…! I'm sorry, I didn't think I hit that hard!"

Brandon made a soft groan and leaned toward her, "I-I don't know. I tried to raise it, but it stings. Ughh…"

Seeing this, she panicked a little "I'll get the pain relief spray- no, wait, we should go to the infirmary. You might need to be looked at, what if I tore a muscle?"

"No, no," Brandon gasped, gently grabbing her hand to stop her from moving away. "No need for that… Just…"

Yverine looked at him, worried "Just what?"

He looked at her with such a pained expression that for a second, it actually made her heart squeeze.

"Just… massage it a little," he said softly, as if it was his last wish.

"Okay…" she said quickly, nodding. "Where? Show me where exactly it hurts."

He gently lifted her hand and guided her hand…

…to his chest.

Her eyes blinked twice.

Then a third time.

He looked up at her with a ridiculous grin "Right here. My poor heart hurts the most, Sister Yve… caress my heart, and I shall be healed…"

For a moment, her brain tried to process what had just happened.

It failed.

"You… you bastard-!!"

Brandon broke into laughter as she shoved him back hard and he stumbled a few steps, clutching his stomach in fits of laughter.

"You were faking?!" she shouted.

"I almost fell for it, you damn..."

She grabbed his face and shook his head "Since yesterday, you have been annoying me."

"Ah- Sister Yve... wait, don't shake..."

"Why are you like this?" she asked as she continued shaking him and her tone was somewhere between exhausted and deeply offended by his entire existence.

"What did I do to deserve you in my life?"

She finally let him go with an exasperated sigh.

Brandon stumbled back slightly and blinked as the room swirled for a moment.

He patted his hair down, which now looked like it had lost a war with a blender.

Looking betrayed, he muttered "I am fragile, you know."

She narrowed her eyes and muttered "Fragile, my ass."

Hearing this, he grinned "Your ass?"

Her lips twitched in annoyance and she gave a light punch to his stomach.

"OW- okay, that one actually hurts."

---

"Huff.. Huff..."

Brandon lay sprawled on the padded floor of the combat room as he caught his breath.

Sweat clung to his t-shirt and a small line of sweat traced the curve of his jaw before dropping to the floor.

Beside him, Yverine was standing, and her toned body was glistened with sweat, her midriff rising and falling steadily as she wiped her face.

Her hair, tied in a high ponytail, clung slightly to her neck and shoulders.

She looked down at him with an exhausted but satisfied smile. "Let's finish this here. I'm done turning you into a training dummy for now."

Brandon let out a tired chuckle "Appreciate that. I was starting to see the gates of the afterlife."

Yverine turned toward the corner of the training hall where clean towels and spare clothes were kept inside a shelf compartment.

"I'm going to take a bath. You should too before lunch."

She grabbed her towel and a set of fresh clothes and walked toward the pair of private shower rooms at the far end of the hall.

Once inside her bathroom, Yverine closed the door behind her.

She peeled off her sports bra and then her shorts, letting them fall into the laundry basket near the corner.

Her dark skin is flushed slightly from the intensity of the spar with the subtle bruises and marks across her arms and abdomen.

Undoing the clasp of her undergarments, she tossed them in as well and stepped into the glass-walled shower.

Cool water poured from the rain-style nozzle above, cascading over her body, washing away the heat and sweat of the spar.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting herself sink into the refreshing sensation.

But then- click.

She heard the room's door opening and then she heard his voice "Sister Yve."