Unfortunate End of the Dragon

 The time had finally come for Bruce Lee to face his arch-nemesis, Bolo Yeung, once and for all. The two martial arts legends had a storied past, each with their own philosophies and fighting styles. But today, only one could emerge victorious.

The crowd roared as Bruce and Bolo entered the arena, their fists clenched and eyes locked in a fierce stare. Bruce, confident in his speed and agility, danced around his opponent, landing a flurry of quick jabs. But Bolo absorbed the blows, his massive frame barely flinching.

"You talk too much, Lee," Bolo sneered. "Time to put an end to your pretty boy act."

Bolo lunged forward, his huge fist connecting with Bruce's jaw in a sickening crunch. Bruce's head snapped back and he stumbled, his vision blurring. Bolo followed up with a devastating kick to the gut, knocking the wind out of him.

Bruce crashed to the ground, gasping for air. Bolo pounced on top of him, pinning his arms down and straddling his waist. "What's the matter, pretty boy?" Bolo taunted. "Too weak to fight back?"

Bruce struggled beneath Bolo's weight, but he was powerless. Bolo's free hand reached up and grabbed Bruce's hair, yanking his head back. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Bruce glared up at Bolo defiantly even as tears of pain pricked at his eyes. "Go to hell," he spat.

Bolo chuckled darkly. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking you, Lee." His hand moved down and grabbed Bruce's crotch, squeezing cruelly. "Starting with this."

Bruce cried out, his body trembling. But then, to his horror, he felt himself responding to Bolo's touch. His cock began to stiffen and swell in his pants.

"You see?" Bolo gloated. "You're not as strong as you think. Your body knows who its master is."

He ripped open Bruce's pants and pulled out his hardening shaft. "Look at this pretty cock," he purred mockingly. "I'm going to make it my personal plaything."

Bolo stroked Bruce roughly, twisting his hand around the sensitive head. Bruce whimpered and shuddered, trying to pull away. But Bolo held him firm.

"That's it, take your medicine," Bolo growled. He spit on Bruce's cock and pounded it harder, milking him with a brutal hand.

To Bruce's shame, he could feel his orgasm building. His balls tightened and his cock pulsed in Bolo's grip. "No, please," he begged. "I can't..."

"Shut up and cum for me," Bolo commanded. His thumb pressed against Bruce's slit as he squeezed the shaft. "Cum like the weak little bitch you are."

Bruce's hips bucked uncontrollably as the pleasure overtook him. He let out a ragged moan, his cock spurting all over Bolo's fist and his own stomach. Bolo kept stroking him through it, prolonging his humiliation.

When it was over, Bruce collapsed back, utterly spent. Bolo stood up and pointed at his prone, dripping form. "This is what you are," he announced to the crowd. "A pathetic, defeated shell of a man. Nothing but a cumdump toy for me to use."

The onlookers jeered and called out insults. Bruce curled into a fetal position, weeping from the shame and degradation. He was finally broken, his legend shattered. He knew he could never show his face in public again.

Bolo scooped up Bruce's limp, defeated body and carried him out of the arena like a ragdoll. Bruce hung in his arms, feeling utterly powerless. He had no idea where Bolo was taking him next, but he knew it would be even more horrific than this. He was Bolo's toy now, to be used and abused at his leisure. His only hope was that he would die from the shame before Bolo finished with him.