This Story is a Sequel to the Following Two Stories:

Showdown at the Saloon

Titfight: On the newly rebuilt and renamed Rival’s Ranch, two bartendresses find themselves locked in a silent war for the tips of their patrons. Until one night, when the two busty women are left to close the saloon alone together, one decides to make their quiet struggle anything but.

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Just Trust Me

A Sequel to Showdown at the Saloon

Titfight: When the local watering hole closes for renovations, and the thrill of the chase cannot be found, one roommate turns to another and asks for relief. A relief that is given, but only after she who is asked gets to introduce her lusty cohabitant to her new favorite game.

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It had been weeks since Brie and Kylie’s epic collision of tits, tongues, and ties. And yet it was still foremost in both of their minds when finally the saloon in which the two girls worked re-opened after a second renovation. 

The taste of Brie’s sex, even after so long, still clinging to her blonde rival’s tongue. 

Just as the back and forth bashings and draggings of their perfectly large and divinely matched breasts weighed heavy on Brie’s mind. 

Not just because the contest had been exciting. 

Not just because there had been something raw, taboo, and sexual about what had happened that left a indelible brand on Brie’s soul. But also because she had won. 

She had beaten Kylie at her own game. 

And though, yes, she had taken a reward for coming out on top of that unexpected battle of breasts, namely Kylie’s tongue nestled deep within her nethers, Brie wanted more. 

She wanted what Kylie would have demanded, had Brie found a way to remain in the proximity of her rival. What that was, the brunette could not define, but were she to dig down to the core of her psyche, she would find that it was control she thirsted for. Not of the saloon in its entirety. Not of the patrons or any of the other hardworking gals there. Just Kylie. 

The girl who had challenged her and lost. 

The bitch who had dared to test Brie’s breasts in a long, exhausting, body to body clinch. 

Brie did not desire that because she was evil or cruel, but instead because it would be fun. 

To see that cocky little cunt look away, whenever Brie fired a glance in her direction.

To see the blonde lean back against the bar respectfully as the brunette with better tits walked passed. 

To feel, if only for a day, a week, or even a month, what it was like to be confident, self-assured, and even dominant over a girl who in every way seemed to be an equal.

With that desire in mind, Brie, on the pair’s first shared shift, made her move. She, in preciously small daisy dukes and a sternum-high, midriff-exposing white button up, marching to the well-hidden far end of the dimly lit saloon bar, and cornering Kylie. 

The blonde had her back turned, as she prepared for her shift. Not by taking stock of what needed to be done on that night. But instead by pulling her black camisole top down, so that her gorgeous, deep-ravine breasts looked absolutely irresistible when tucked into her own pair of equally tight and upper-thigh-riding cut-off jeans. 

Just when she had gotten their placement just right, she heard the voice of the girl who had bested those same tits with her own speak.

“I’m surprised you had the guts to come back. After what I did to you last time we worked together….” Brie mused hotly, in an expectant tease. One she hoped would be the beginning of a new dynamic between she and her equally well-built competition for tips. 

“You only won because you tied me up. Because you cheated.” Kylie replied as she spun around to face her rival.

At the words spoken. Words that diminished Brie’s  victory — her dominance — her control, she chaffed and then flared. The brunette stepping forward and pressing her chest into Kylie’s, all while her eyes turned from their confident and yet playful glint to a resentful glare. 

“You tied me up first!” Brie blurted out, as her pulse began to thunder and her feminine pride began to sting. 

“Fuck you….” With narrowed eyes, Kylie hissed back. Making it clear that she had no intention of playing Brie’s game of cat and mouse — mistress and barback slave.

And though she had said enough already, Kylie still stepped forward and pressed her breasts hard into the brunette’s as she continued to speak. “You’re not half the woman I am. Not that night. Not now. Not ever….”

It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be fun, pushing Kylie around the bar until it had lost its flavor. But Kylie’s refusal to back down or heel — her refusal to honor the unspoken terms of her surrender, made Brie absolutely furious. 

“Fuck. YOU. Kylie. You know I beat your tits with mine.” Brie growled and surged forward, compressing their heavy pairs of heaven-made-flesh even further, but Kylie back a half a foot and then into the polished wooden wall behind her. 

The hands of the two young Texan girls on instinct moving to each others hair, while their noses bobbed and weaved slowly only a centimeter apart. 

“Is that what you want, bitch?!” The blonde asked as her lips curled into a snarl. The fingers on her hands tightening in Brie’s lucious brown hair. “Fine, then tonight…. When all these people leave. Your body versus mine. Not just our tits….. But everything we’ve got until one of us begs for the contest to be over….” Kylie let her words linger before she added to it. “Until one of us agrees she’s done at this bar.”

At that moment, in the dim, dark corner of the saloon, and in the white hot fires of Kylie’s brazen confidence, Brie would have agreed to any contest. Any battle that would let her not only shut the arrogant blonde up, but break her defiant spirit. 

No matter how dirty. No matter how foreign or unknown to her it may have been. “…everything we’ve got”? What did that even mean? What more did the two of them have to bring to the table? Brie had not the time to wonder, though she felt the question echoing just beyond the periphery of her concentration. 

And though the engagement itself could have been anything Kylie dared to ask for, to the terms presented, Brie demanded different and better — at least in part.”

“I don’t want you gone, Kylie….” The usually sweet brunette corrected, her oft-donned softness hardened — in the chase of this newest red dragon. Her blonde rival subjugation — something that was denied to her at the very moment she wanted it most. 

“I want you under my thumb. I want you….” The brunette’s words trailed off as she leaned even deeper into the barely-there space left between she and her lighter-haired enemy. Her voice only then returning in a whisper. “…to be my submissive and obedient little pet….”

With Brie’s terms given, the blonde before her paused, letting her sapphire blue eyes study her co-worker’s face and then lock on to her deep, apricot-hued eyes. “Deal.” She then said plainly before adding in an excited, breath of a brag. “Get ready to find another job, slut….” Words without volume that came just as the blonde leaned in and let her head tilt slowly, and teasingly, her lips passing only a hair’s width from Brie’s.

“I’m going to make you worship me….” Promised Brie in their closeness.

The eyes of the two women were not closed, but wide-open and connected in red-hot, hateful glares. Rage-hewed gazes they shared together as they began to wrestle with each other for control of their tit-to-tit embrace. Lock-laced fingers and straining hands trying to bend and pull at the other’s body. Not to move them away, but closer. 

Both wanting it and everything the other had to give. At least until it was finished. At least until one was gone or the other was broken and collared. 

And though with equal desperation they wanted that fate, and to battle each other — body against body until one of them had earned it, suddenly did a voice tear through their will-adverse bliss. 

“Hey! Can I get a  goddamn drink over here or what…?” A boot-wearing, hat tipping good ol’ Texas cowboy called out from the bar. The regular being justifiably frustrated that though his favorite saloon was open once more, there was nobody behind the bar. The only two employees for the night having slipped away. 

Away though Brie and Kylie were — out of sight but not mind, they still heard the patron shout and still knew they had a shift left to finish. 

“When the doors close, bitch….” Kylie hissed, her intensity-forged eyes never leaving Brie’s.

“And not a second after….” The brunette replied with a lust-drenched emphasis that lingered between them as the two pride-locked Texan girls held onto each other and the moment. Neither wanting to spend another second in a world where Kylie’s reposed and reissued challenge wasn’t answered. 

And yet still, when the insistent man at the bar yelled again, “hello!?”, the two thick-bodied and busty bartendresses pulled apart. Though only after they stole a few more seconds to lean into each other, glare, and in their closeness, growl.

Sounds that still rumbled in their throats as finally their hateful gazes disconnected. The heads of the two tilting in opposite directions as with closed eyes they fought the urges they felt swelling within them. 

Urges to turn remain there, pressing bodies together, and to fight. 

To fuck. 

And to finally and fully fell the rival who had dared challenge them in the most intimate of ways.

No matter what they were supposed to be doing. No matter who wanted a fucking beer at four in the afternoon. 

Palpable and overwhelming though that desire to return and revel in their enemy was, still Brie and Kylie found a way to move on. To clean counters, pour drinks, and even flirt with those patrons they knew tipped well. 

And though they tried to forget the clash that was coming, whenever the two short, thick girls of the Lonestar State could, they would brush against one another. Finding themselves fixated on the woman they intended to break when the doors to the saloon closed and not the smiling, expectant faces at the bar. 

Each doting on plaid, jean wearing men and women that would stare wanting, in both kinds of thirst. That is, until finally, mid-shift, Brie and Kylie found a way to disappear together into the deep corner of the bar. One hidden from all others, by wide displays and tall drink coolers. 

It was in that seclusion, that the two heavy-chested beauties moved in tight and flattened their immense breasts together. Not as they glared, but instead as they leaned in, came to a cheek-to-cheek rest, and then hissed curses into each others ears.

“You ready to cum for me, bitch…?” Kylie asked, her body shivering with excitement. 

“You ready to LOSE, just like last time, cunt….” Came Brie’s reply, the words sounding entirely unlike any she had ever spoken before, and yet she meant them, felt them, and believed them to her very core. 

And though the threats each made were real, still did the two linger. Keeping their bodies pressed, as they settled into an almost imperceivable war of bodies.  

Their tits advancing and in the force applied compressing together on one side of their bodies and then the other. All as beneath those competing breasts their mile-wide thighs extended, interlocked, and then in the middle of each pair rose. The soft skin just above their knees pressing against and then rubbing the others denim-covered cunt. 

Cunts so ready for sex and struggle that they each could feel their rival’s essence seeping through the tight blue daisy duke they wore.

Somewhere in their minds, there was a pull to deny that the others body and confidence turned them on. To claim they were immune to the same feelings they knew their enemy to be feeling. To ignore their blushing cheeks, traitorously grinding hips, and all else that told the other of their carnal hunger.

But to that denial-drawn display neither gave in. Each abandoning it, along with every other falsehood they might have donned, as in that little corner made of aged well-polished wood, they swore at one another breathlessly. 

“Slut.”

“Bitch.”

“You know you want this.”

“So do you.”

“Last time was so….” 

“Hot….” 

“I hate you….”

“I hate you more…..”

Words that came so passionately and were accepted so easily, that who spoke the words hardly mattered. In fact, at that moment, nothing outside of their slow, writhing, body-to-body and breast-to-breast clasp mattered or made its way into their distracted minds. 

Not the hustle and bustle of the people enjoying their drinks and small talk just behind the cooler that they stood in front of. Nor the people at the bar muttering about the two missing bartendresses who had yet to take or make their ordered drink.

All of it coming in as white noise, as slowly Kylie and Brie brought their heads back from their ever-warm cheek against cheek placement, and then leaned together forehead to forehead. Their eyes locking together in a mutual and breath stealing glare. 

“No cheating this time….” Brie demanded, her lips dragging against Kylie’s with every word. The memory of her hands being bound by her own shirt so fresh in her mind that as she spoke the words, she could feel the binding friction once again. 

“No cheating….” The blonde agreed without pause or question — though it may have been foolish to bind her own hands with such an agreement. Her mind pulled towards accord, not because she felt pressured or pushed, but instead because at that moment, she didn’t want it. The distraction of trying to outhink or outwit her rival, or the difference between them that such attempts and success might bring. 

Kylie, at that moment, seeing in her mind’s eye and wanting more than anything she had ever wanted before, to test herself against Brie. Her body. Her breasts. Her sex. And all else they could compare.

Until one had been beaten — been bested, and the question of who was more had been answered. 

The trappings of conflict and conquest coating a growing and yet already soul-wrenching lust for the girl she had worked with and against for oh so long.  A thirst both felt and tried to quench there in the tightest of spaces. 

Their bodies fighting to become one. Any space between their thick, majestic, and busty bodies unacceptable. Intolerable. And anathema to what their souls begged them for. 

More. 

“Where’d you two sexy things run off to, huh?!” Came a shout from the bar that brought both back to the moment and their senses, at least on the surface.

Their driving and stroking knees lowering, spilling breasts and pressing tummies separating, and foreheads coming unsealed.

“Two. Hours.” Brie muttered in a tone and with an expression that made her frustration clear. The closing of the bar not coming nearly soon enough. 

“Two, bitch.” Kylie replied with a closing of eyes and a quick, desire-brought shudder. 

“Hey, there!” Brie greeted then warmly, after she and her bar-back enemy had taken a moment to compose themselves and adjust their clothes. Each heading back to their work and wanting onlookers. 

Their hands not reaching for each other’s hair but for glasses to pour beers. Their breasts not smashed together and dragging, but instead playing the home to singles, fives, and ten dollar bills, until they could slip them into their purses behind the bar. 

Every second they spent on such mundane endeavors feeling like an eternity for them both. Their cravings only fed by the fleeting moments they could lock eyes, or brush breasts behind the bar. 

Hell though it was. 

An eternity though it was. 

For those last pair of hours, the two hungry bartendresses did their best to distract themselves with the tasks of cleaning, pouring, and taking orders. Each of which seemed painfully mundane when compared with the collision that awaited them when the Saloon’s doors closed. But still, they made it through. Brie and Kylie suffering through the time remaining until finally the clock obliged. 

It was then and not a moment later that the two set themselves to hurriedly moving well-paying patrons to the saloon’s “Rival’s Ranch” emblazoned doors. 

Giving each a smile. Some a hug. And others  a gentle kiss on the cheek. Until finally the last boot and britches had made their way out. A final exit that came only a moment before Kylie and Brie reached down together to lock the door, their tell-tale hearts skipping whole handfuls of beats as with a final click, the saloon was theirs.

Theirs, and yet they paused. Theirs, and yet together they froze. Brie’s right shoulder pressed against her rival’s left. The hands of the two still holding their half of the lock as the reality of their sudden solitude hit them like a tidal wave. 

There was nothing left to stop them. Nothing left to get in their way. And in a way they didn’t expect, that freedom to do what they had threatened — what they had promised, terrified them. 

Not because the idea of what was to come next was abhorrent to them, but instead because it was exactly the opposite. The two busy young women who had been not but ice-cold co-workers a handful shifts before, finding themselves so intensely focused on the idea of engaging the other that they could barely breathe. 

What had happened to them? 

Between them? 

Neither knew, and yet as together they stood there listening to nothing more than the others heavy and heated breathing, they wondered. 

Until in the tension Kylie shifted. Only a smidge, and yet still it caused the bare skin of their pressing upper arms to drag. It was just a gentle brush. Barely perceivable. And yet for they two, it was a reminder. 

A taste. 

Enough of each to suddenly wake the two from their worry and drag them back to their feud. 

“Ok, bitch….” Kylie uttered as if she and Brie hadn’t spent the last half minute in silence. 

“Watch your mouth, cunt.” Brie replied, claiming the same cloak of unearned strength. 

“Or what, huh?” Wanting to forget it. To purge that moment of shared weakness from her own mind, the blonde reached out and shoved the brunette with whom she argued to the side.

The force of the push wasn’t violent, but petty. Meant only to send a message and earn some distance. And though it did both Brie refused to let it give Kylie control. 

“Or when this is over, I’m going to drag you out of this bar…” The usually sweet — usually unassuming dark-haired bartendress began as she turned back towards her rival and with a quick movement of her hands, untied her flannel top. “…and take you home with me for the weekend.”

The words spoken filled Kylie’s mind with the image of another thick-thighed brunette she knew from the bar. “Oh, so I can outfuck you and your slutty little roommate?”

“So she and I can teach you to behave….” Brie fired back, as the golden haired girl across from her started to remove her own top.

“Fuck you.” On instinct. In anger. The blonde’s lips parted to let loose a vengeful insult, even as both she and the woman she spoke to let their tops fall to the floor below. The hands that let those garments loose then moving to their short, cut-off jeans so they could remove them too. 

“That’s right, cunt. With these tits. With this pussy. With this tongue.” When first Kylie concocted her plan to press breasts with her rival and drive her from the saloon, she seemed like such an easy mark. She was sweet. Kind. Built by the heavens, but seemingly undeserving of the gift. 

And yet since then, she had grown in confidence and strength. And as Kylie saw it, that night was her last chance to take the cocky bitch down. “Go ahead and think that you overconfident slut. You cheated last time. But tonight, you’re going to find out that I’m the better woman.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Brie asked as she and Kylie kicked off their denim and panties. The pair, as they spit brags and insults back and forth, studying the others naked body. The tits they already knew so well. The wide hips that had bumped their own on so many occasions behind the bar. The thick meaty thighs that spread wide above their well-leathered cowgirl boots, as each stood with hands on their hips. 

“That’s. What. I. Know.” Each word dropped like an anvil, Kylie let the words linger in the air between them until finally their examining eyes lifted and then met. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to teach you different.” Brie smirked, as she took a single step to the side. The heel of her boot making a dull muffled thud on the wooden floor as she moved. 

Kylie had planned to take her own boots off. Lift her leg and grab the tips of them, one by one, for a pair of quick pull offs. But if Brie was keeping hers on, the blonde would too. If for no other reason than to deny the brunette the pleasure of seeming bolder in even the slightest of ways.

“I’ll fuck you right out of those boots….” Kylie hissed. Her eyes narrowing as her feet began to step to the side. The two at-odds co-workers then beginning to circle each other, though their every step took them further away from the saloon door and deeper into its seatless entrance floor. 

“We’ll see who leaves with whose boots and who’s pride.” Every word sounded so bold. So certain. And yet behind them, Brie was trembling with excitement — no different than her enemy. 

Just the few moments they had stolen away behind the bar had made them each feel like they might pass out. But that was clothed. That was with watchers only a few feet away. 

What would happen when their nude bodies came together? 

What would happen when finally they met woman to woman with noone to interrupt them? 

Those were questions neither was willing to wait to have answered. And so in that quiet saloon, as the antique ceiling fans ran above them, they began to move. 

Not to some open space on the Saloon’s wooden, peanut shell-strewn floor, but instead, towards the two opposite ends of the bar.

After all, it was behind that bar that the two women worked hip-to-hip for years, fighting for tips from those on the other side of it. Instilling in them a terrible jealousy of the others success, body, and tits. 

Making it the perfect battleground for a battle as intimate as the one they were about to wage. A shared calling, that led each to climb up onto stool, and then the bartop itself in nothing more than their boots. Boots that they let land heavy, one step after another, as they confidently marched towards one another. 

Gazes locked. 

Nipples hard. 

And thick, busty bodies on full display for one another as they strut. Letting their hips cock and tits swing while they moved. Both more confident, in that moment, than they ever had been before. 

Something about the others challenge and knowing how bad the their rival needed this, that made the two Texan girls feel not only attractive, not only sexy, but like a goddess.

Neither needing to pull down their tops for a fiver or a date night at Applebees.

No flaunting their asses for a tip or feigning to flirt for a ride home. 

They were, just as they were, perfect. 

Glorious. 

Beautiful. 

And enough to have ALL of the others attention, without needing to lose weight or put on a few pounds. It was something neither had ever felt before, though from that day on they would chase it. 

But first they had to make the other admit that it was only their confidence that was real. Only their body that is perfect. And so, with that in mind and when they were close enough, the two bartendresses lunged. 

The large, hard-tipped tits of the two leaping alabaster beauties crashing together in an audible slap of flesh and fury. Their arms coiling and nails digging deep into each others soft skin as once more they compressed. 

“Bitch.” Kylie snarled. 

“Slut.” Brie replied in no less feral a tone. Their hot cheeks pressing together as their hands roamed one anothers smooth creamy skin. 

Their traveling talons not meant to cause pain, but were instead let loose to fulfill a far more primitive desire. A need to mark and claim — clutch and carve their presence into the flesh of the one with whom they writhed. 

Slowly. 

Tightly. 

Letting their every inch ooze together and settle, only to find the need to do so again with every heavy breath taken. 

That closeness and contact led both Kylie and Brie to feel just as they had behind the bar earlier in the night, but this time, it was accentuated and exponentiated. Their dragging digits pausing and then flattening with palms against each others back as the rush of adrenaline, despire, and desperation for more increased. 

Each gasping. Moaning. And then after a moment spent centering themselves, the two dared to draw back their wide hips, and then fire. Thrusting their separated and bare shaven mounds together in a hot flash and audible splash of soft and begging flesh. A sound that came only a blink before a weakening shudder that left both rivals to lean into each other hard to keep from collapsing.

“God, you want this so bad.” Kylie muttered at hearing their collective chorus of pleasure, her lips only an inch from Brie’s ear. 

“Fuck you. So do YOU–unnngggghhh– bitch.” The latter answered, and midway through, brought the contact again. 

“I want you–I want you–I want you GONE.” Another thrust, this time from Kylie, came with a long suffering retort that went from a stutter to a shout at its final word. 

Just as those before it, as the reverberations of carnal consequence washed over them, the two busty beauties shifted and settled together. Their hands that once clawed now clinging to each other as if their greatest fear was the other somehow getting away.  

Getting free from a moment they had never wanted. Never needed. Until Kylie, without intention, turned their jealousy and dislike into a challenge. A dare. One that, like an ember in a dry forest, grew to a fire that consumed them both. 

“And I WANT you … on your KNEES.” Having made their differing desires clear, the thrusts of the two started coming quicker. One smooth hairless mound bouncing off the other, though their clits remained sheathed. The pleasure that drew their low moans and hidden whimpers came from the reberatting echo of their glancing womanhoods. A shadow of an impact that felt like so much more because of the swelling and swirling lusts that drove them.

And so they clung to it — that moment and each other. For seconds that became minutes and minutes that became a heavenly eternity of clapping pubic mounds, and shuddering mewls. Tits which once took centerstage and played the role of battlefield and weapon now acting as buffer. The dragging of hard nipples only barely registering as each of the two Lonestar honeys poured their efforts and focus into one hip-brought drive of clapping pubic mounds after another. 

That is until suddenly, even that bliss was not enough. Leading each of the two, as if on agreement or on queue, to bring a stop to their back and forward thrusts. Not after a withdrawal, but at the very moment of their mound-to-mound contact. A contact that by itself made them tremble, and yet still, on this compression, they flexed their round asses more and pushed forward further. Straining together with gritted teeth, until finally, they found more. 

Their clitoral hoods catching and together pulling the entrances of their sacred nether valleys open. Apart. And then as their labia spread for each other, their clits met. 

Not hard. Not fully. But at the very first sensation of it, Brie and Kylie felt their very souls cry out. For more. For that same connection to happen and last, and yet, because of the intensity of it, the two rivals suddenly pushed each other away. Not hard and far, unwilling to let a fall to prematurely end their fight, but just enough to break the clit to clit connection.

Their booted feet bringing them to a safe stop, as each sought a moment to process the pleasure they had just felt. Their eyes welling with tears of joy and fear — ecstasy and utter dismay. And though each such emotion was beautiful and brilliant, still did they lash out at each other in unison through lips and voices that trembled and overlapped. “Bitch….” 

Shared hisses Brie and Kylie spoke before they dove back at each other. Not back into a long, slow, waltz as before, but in a wild, desperate struggle for position and power. Each terrified of the utter bliss they had felt a handful of seconds before, but knowing that with it they could make the other break. 

And so blonde and brunette struggled — wrestling with each other, perilously placed though they were. Their arms reaching out so that palms could press to shoulders and biceps. The two nude beauties stumbling together as their breasts brushed, crashed, and bounced. Their powerful thighs pushing, strong calves driving, and peach-shaped asses flexing until in a mutual overplay of position, they collapsed and crashed down to the bar top together.

It was there that the pair’s wide thighs spread, crossed, and their juicy, moist centers came together in a splash. A fateful collision of clits and contrary intentions that came along with two overlapping howls of unchecked rapture. One roared out by Brie from above, and the other announced by Kylie beneath her in an L-shaped scissor. 

“You fucking BIIIIIITCH!” The blonde cried in frustration and unfathomable pleasure. 

“Shit…. Shit….” The brunette muttered as she fought to endure the cataclysm of their adversary clits meeting tip to tip and then after an electric, unforgettable moment, sliding past one another. Nestling side-by-side in the molten wet housing of their coupled labial folds. 

With eyes closed, and without a single thrust, they remained there. Pulling and pushing at each others arms, though more in instinct and anger, than in a plan to accomplish. Until even that stopped.

Neither woman moving or speaking, but instead learning to tolerate the sensation of their glistening clits coupling. Their hands moving so that their palms and spread fingers could come down and then brace hard against the others muscular legs. 

It was a moment that felt like an eternity — like a forever forged and fated. But still, after the rock had cracked at the dove’s touch, and at the very first moment each believed they could endure more, the busty battling bartendresses in unison thrust together and then as consequence, cried out like pleasure-wounded banshees. 

In the wake of that chorus of carnal chaos, their lips parted once more. Not to scream for each other, but instead to let out an unsteady stream of shaking curses and broken threats. Blisters and blusters that came unaimed and landed unheard in their madness and jealousy. 

Those syllables of scorn and sounds of spite were meant to distract those that spoke them from the pleasure they felt. To help them tame it. To stand it. Brie and Kylie learning together to tolerate the unbelievable pleasure their connected clits caused. All as they continued their thrusting — their slow, deep, uneven fucking on the bar of the saloon. 

The sweet sexual essences of each mixing between their torrid taints only to then leak down their crossed and claiming thighs to the glistening sheen of the surface beneath them. 

The sounds of derision they once spoke melting into moans and whimpers that barely escaped the quivering lips of the two warring women. Neither present enough to plan or strategize — lay traps or form tactics. As instead, they were lost in each other, in the moment, and the carnal cataclysm that in every way the word could be meant, overwhelmed them. 

So much so, that as if pulled by gravity or a force just as strong, Brie’s upright placement faded with every second that passed. Stroke after stroke of one pussy gliding and sliding against and in between another brought her body and breasts down to the blonde beneath her.

Kylie, for her part, accepted her brunette’s rival’s descent from dominance by wrapping her arms around her and then rolling them over together. Not wildly or violently, but carefully, both rivals well aware, even in their blissful haze, of how close they were to falling off of the bar. 

A shared concern that led Kylie not to try to raise up, to claim a straddle like Brie, but instead to lay atop the same, and in a glorious sight, grapevine their powerful legs. The thighs of the two busty bartendresses flexing together hard as the topside blonde’s boots wrapped and at their toes hooked. 

That maneuver, gorgeous as it was, locked them together with a sudden and center-fulcromed tightening that caused both girls to scream out and then grab for each others quickly disheveling hair with both hands. 

“Bitch….” Brie hissed, as she sealed her forehead to Kylie’s and glared so very deep into her eyes.

“Cunt….” The latter grunted back, as together their hips fired, forcing their nectar seeping cunts to become one. Lips and clits bending and binding together as their owners shivered and shook at the contact. The intensity of it all made worse, or perhaps better, by the fact that finally they could see the passion and power in their rival’s watering eyes. 

And though both women would tell you it wasn’t fear or doubt that made wetness collect and brim at the lashed verge of their eyelids, such denials — from any woman so engaged, would be lies. 

After all, every moment before now, both Kylie and Brie could presume and assume their own carnal power and sexual might was supreme. And that their engagement would be won almost as an afterthought, with their own victory never in doubt. 

But there, atop of the bar, as the true consequence of their shared lusts and mutual hate bore down on them, that certainty was forfeit. A realization neither could hide in the back of their minds or in the dark recesses of their hearts, as instead it glimmered, like the brightest of stars in their eyes. Eyes that remained fused together as they fucked. 

At first slowly and in long, lingering drags of clit through their rival’s valley, and then faster. 

Harder. 

Until neither could bear to share their lustful gaze another second without it pushing them over the edge and into orgasm. 

A fate so clear and inescapable that together the two turned their heads, and then let their effort and passion-warmed cheeks slide against one another. Each then leaning in and dipping deeper. Their lips coming to a soft stop just next to the ear of their enemy. 

“I can feel your … weEEeaaaAaAk little cunt–UGH … giving in-nto myyYyy seeeexXxx, Brie….” Bragged the blonde on top, though in truth she felt no stronger or better composed.

Still, just saying it. Just uttering that sentence of outright unearned confidence made Brie shiver and moan beneath her. 

“Shu-ut uuuuup, yoouur pussy is the — FUUuuuUUCK — weeeaaakkkk oooonnneeee.” Brie replied with the same confidence and vigor as the clits of she and her rival came together in one unforgettable spark of sexual intensity after another. 

The nearness of an ecstasy their prideful minds wished would go away seeming so much closer at that moment than before. 

As if it were inevitable that they would succumb to it.

Inexorable that they would soon cum for their most despised competition.

Their long war of throbbing pussies seeming to have been fought over an eternity of absolute focus-breaking bliss, though their battle had only just begun. 

The thick, busty body of one rival writhing atop that of the other. Dragging, pushing, and pulling their fleshy weapons through seeping lips that seized at each other. Labia that seemed to have a mind of their own, as they sought to fuse together in the unbearable heat of their contest.

A heat of purpose and power that made the idea of forming words seem ever so distant and endlessly unreachable the more they fucked. Leaving the two bartendresses to do nothing else than to moan together in a shared and devastating weakness. 

The mewling voices of the two overlapping, as in that moment of unmatched and indescribably intimacy atop the reflective top of the golden-brown bar,  they each set their minds to holding.  Every effort spent on appearing strong and unaffected fading from their minds, as they clung to each other and the only thought they could find in their passion-flooded minds. 

Holding out. 

Holding on. 

Not cuming. 

Not for her. 

Not until she — the other, had given in first. 

And though that was their shared directive and mutual intention, they felt it. 

A soul-deep pull towards more. More contact. More passion. More pleasure. And as they were already locked body to body and sex to sex, they could find as much only in a kiss. Their warm cheeks sliding past one another, as the dueling brunette and blonde’s mouths met. Sealing their lips together above, just as they were below. Their tongues extending and meeting at the precipice of two molten caverns walled with hot, saliva-covered, pink.

A connection so longed for by each that even if a portal to hell itself were open up before them, threatening an eternity of suffering and torment, or if the heavens were to split open above them offering an endless happiness, neither could find the will to break apart or away. Both blonde and brunette having passed the point of no return when they began that passionate kiss.

But it was not just the taste of the other’s chapstick, the soft touch of their lips when pressed, or the way their tongues seemed to melt together on contact. No, it was the euphoria all of that brought, combined with the certainty that they were so very close to driving the other to orgasm. 

So near the cliff they had sworn to throw the other off of. A chasm of ecstasy, that in its raw majesty, forced their lips to part, tongues to decoil, and foreheads to press again, as on the bar top they muttered to each other in overlapping prayers. 

“Bitch….” Brie chanted through grit teeth, and with sealed shut eyes. 

“Cunt….” Hissed Kylie, breathless and fighting to hold on. 

Sounds of hate and desire that came in lockstep with one audibly wet smacking of dripping pussies after another. The blonde’s perfectly round, and deliciously large ass bouncing in the air again and again until finally, it reared back far and swung forward hard. The resulting splash of shaven pubic mounds causing two screams to tear through the dry, dust-filled air of the empty saloon. First the brunette’s, and then only a second later, her blonde enemy’s. 

It was then that curses, repeated again and again became different words. Those of she on bottom turning to pleasure-torn and pitiful pleas of “no….”, and from she atop, to celebratory and yet growling murmurs of “yes….”.

The former offered by Brie as a cruel, soul-shattering orgasm washed over her, and the latter as that same rapturess force took to her enemy not a moment later. 

Those contrary choruses layering and melting together until they were drowned in another deep passionate kiss between rivals. Rivals who continued to thrust their gushing womanhoods together again and again. 

Until ferocity and speed gave way to a withered, weak, and welling fatigue where naked bodies that had been in constant motion for more than half an hour slowed. 

Settled.

Until Brie and Kylie’s renewed kiss finally broke, leaving paired upper and lower lips to quiver in nearness, connected by thin, semi-transparent strings of liquid. Threads of saliva and seeping that snapped as one bartendress rolled off another. Each thereafter laying on their backs, side-by-side on the extra wide bartop. Their massive chests heaving, as they together sought breath, focus, and enough energy to do anything more than stew in the aftermath of what had just occurred.

But what had occurred? Was the fight over? Had Kylie won, by making Brie cum first? The brunette’s orgasm came only a second or two before that of her blonde rival, and yet still … Brie felt shame. 

Disgust. 

Not at what they were doing or what they had done, but that she couldn’t make Kylie cum first. That in this contest, whatever it was, Kylie had drawn first blood, even if the liquid extracted was of a different color, scent, and flavor. 

“I told you … you weren’t woman enough….” Wiping sweat-wrecked mascara away from her eyes, Kylie finally broke the silence that surrounded them as she leaned up onto a bent elbow and onto her side. 

“Fuck you, Kylie….” Replied Brie in a huff, as she chased her rival to a sideways lay. Both blonde and brunette bartendresses tits hanging hard and far, so that their nipples dangled only a centimeter apart — their bottom-side breasts laying on the marbled bartop. 

“You came too. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.” Added Brie, as her narrowed emotion wet eyes bored holes in the gloating blonde. 

“Mmmm, what can I say, sugar. Showing you how weak that body of yours is turns me on.” Cooed the blonde, as she closed her eyes and let her head hang back. Basking in the glow of Brie’s frustration. 

“Oh my god, you cocky little bitch! Come here!” Without even a word spent on deciding what would come next, or what the meaning of the orgasms that just passed was, the brunette reached out from her single-fifth lean, grabbed her rival by the hair, and then pulled their bodies together once more. 

Neither on their back this time, but instead, both remaining on their sides. Brie intent on wiping the confident smirk from Kylie’s lips, while the latter, groused and squirmed in annoyance at being forcibly yanked during her moment of triumph. A rebellion, light though it was, that came to an end when breasts met breasts once more, and a large, muscle and meat built thigh raised up and then curled around the blonde’s topside hip. 

A limb that with a hooked and flexing calf pulled Kylie closer, deeper, and only a flash later, sealed the two women’s sopping and swollen pussies together again. 

Audible was the sound of the two soft, scarlet stretches of lip, slit, and liquid coming together in a sudden clap. “Ooooh, bitch … I’m going to make you regret that….” Hissed the blonde as she locked eyes once more with her rival.

“Shut up, slut….” Came Brie’s reply, from so close she could taste Kylie’s every exhale. “Till one of us begs … remember?” As the brunette spoke, she tilted her head down, and then up and to the side. Letting her mouth and tongue dance and tease only a centimeter from her enemy’s. 

“Begs, cunt….” With emphasis, and as her hands moved to Brie’s hair to grab a tight hold, the blonde reared her hips back and then slammed them forward with intention. 

“Fuuuuucckkk….” Muttered Brie, as her own eyes closed and her nose brushing faints of a threatened kiss stopped. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you…. This would be so much softer on your pride if you just gave in, and–Unnnggghhh” Mid-offer, though one that would never be accepted, Kylie felt the same sudden sensual impact of one turgid sex meeting another. 

“Save your warnings, Kylie. And save that tongue of yours to be–oooh shhhhiiiitttt.” Again one of the two bartendresses tried to speak, and again their words were interrupted by their rival’s kitten driving into theirs. 

A sequence of words and waylays that played out beneath two sets of warring tits that between the two coiled cats seemed so full and compressed they might explode. And yet they held, once and again, as blonde and brunette fucked one another on the marbled bartop. 

Hissing at each other until once more the two enemies kissed, moaning together when to gain breath their lips pulled apart. Neither rival afraid or fraying, each confident to the point of being sure. It would be the other that came. The other’s cunt that would break, regardless of what had just happened. 

But as the hands on the dusty, wood-made clock on the wall across the bar turned, neither gave in. Not even when a rawness of wet flesh began to bite at them. Nor when their pressing breasts started to ache from the pressure of keeping them apart, or the pleasure they felt had grown into the first roils of a forming tsunami. The waves of it swelling and lapping at their consciousness in one focus-breaking tide after another. 

Instead they fought it. Dwelling on their hate. Their jealousy. Their desire to best the other, to fight off a release that would have otherwise overwhelmed them. One they would have gladly given into in any other scenario. 

Until even their loathing for each other wasn’t enough. That failure of enmity they discovered when their closed eyes opened, and locked together in a desperate glare. 

One that spoke to those emotions they had used to hold their orgasm at bay yes, but also a fear. A Doubt. A frustration that the other had not let go. 

“Just … cum … bitch.” Kylie demanded breathlessly, though the blissful anguish of holding out against the velvet poison of passion shone on her face ever so brightly. 

“You…. You cum….” Replied Brie, as her neck bent, and forehead sealed against her blonde rival’s. 

“Ne-Never….” Weakness is all the stuttered word conveyed. A not just growing, but intent-shattering vulnerability.

But the brunette who heard the betrayed subtext was no stronger and certainly no more collected. And so rather than speak, she simply nodded, before tilting her head left, just as Kylie’s moved right. The two bartendresses letting their foreheads slide in opposite directions and then dive low, as they buried their faces in the well between the others neck and shoulder. 

Their arms moving from extended grips of hair, into a tight, hard embrace, that only worsened their poor tits expansion and deformation. Kylie going so far as to slide her underside arm beneath Brie’s body and around her so that the two could pull even closer. A nearness they claimed, just before, without words, blonde and brunette set themselves to a final push. A final race. Both knowing that beginning as much would mean an orgasm for one of them or both, without either having a chance to escape or retreat. 

Still they gave themselves to it. Their minds, once so entirely focused on their feud and rivalry, submerged in the madness that only hate, desire, and a hunger to dominate can bring. 

Every neuron in their brains spent either feeling or analyzing the sensation of the others clit invading, attacking, and then being cruelly pulled away from their own. 

Until the speed at which their hips moved was so quick, and their strokes so precise, that they remained connected. Their battle becoming more a duel of fleshy pink sabers than one soft, glistening sex horn colliding with another. 

You could hear it if you were there with them. In every cry and every moan. How the strength they once wore like both armor and arm had left them. How absorbed and entranced they were in each other and their war. 

Their enemy more important to them than any human ever had been before. Unchecked envy, mirrored challenge, and whispered dares turning the woman they loathed into their nemesis, yes, but also their lover.

Their teacher. 

Their most present and pressing goal. 

Not hurting her, in the traditional sense, but causing her pleasure. Making her cum. Making her scream out in ecstacy. Why? 

Because it was the contest they chose. 

They could have chosen anything else, but instead it was their bodies. Their breasts. Their womanhoods. Their sexual self-worth that they threw down on the table as both chips and played hand. 

Who would win? Who would lose? What would be lost and what would be gained? That is what the two busty young women, of such power and prowess fought to find out. There on that raised, gold-brown countertop behind which they had worked for years. 

Hanging on every sound the other made. Hoping it meant the beginning of the other’s orgasm. The start of perhaps the end of Brie, or an evening of the score for the same. Hope though they did, somehow — some way, the two women found a way to churn their hatred for one another into resistance. 

Lasting and holding out for minutes bridging on a baker’s dozen, even at that frantic pace, muttering sounds of enmity into each others ear until finally, in a shrill, broken scream, Brie made Kylie scream out in orgasm. 

The blonde’s body convulsing and spasming, as her already firm grip on Brie’s nearly nude body (boots being all that either wore) grew even tighter. Her lips spitting out not only saliva, but chanted and withered “no’s” into her brunette rival’s ear, before that same speaking mouth bit down and then nibbled in between gasps and pleasure-drenched whimpers.

All of which drug Brie over that same cliff of sexual release. Only seconds after Kylie, a flash in the span of their long, intense battle, but still — it was enough. An equaling the brunette needed desperately, and finally, after what felt like a second blissful eternity, she had earned it. 

But at what cost? 

What had that second epic session of pussy on pussy grinding taken from the two bartendresses, who seemed so spry and strong after their first orgasms. 

If you spoke those questions aloud to the two rivals who so weakly clung to each other on the bar, quaking in each others grasp, they could not answer. In fact, they might think your voice a dream in their euphoric carnal haze.

And though they could not understand or respond, they felt the answers to their very soul.

As an exhaustion — pure, oppressive, and nearly incomparable to any they had ever felt before had come upon them in their kaleidoscope crash of long-denied orgasms. 

Leaving each of the two vivacious and energetic young women to feel not only spent and satisfied, but unable to move. To speak. To peel themselves off and away from each other. Or even, for a few fleeting seconds, recall where they were and who it was that had torn from their bodies a release of beastial passion unlike any they had ever experienced. 

Sweat dripping from their perfectly shaped bodies to the bar top below. The bright glare of the lights above, the muggy air of the hot Texas night, along with their desperate duel of bodies causing them each to feel as if they might melt. Though in truth, it felt, at that moment, like they already had. 

Giant swollen breasts, wet essence-splattered thighs, and soft muscleless tummies pressed and perspired together in a fatigue-bought silence. A silence where jealousy and hate gave into an instinctive and primal affection. Not for the other as a person, but instead for their role in providing such intense exhilaration and incredible pleasure. Forces of human nature that bid lips to peck, and noses to nuzzle, as in a delirium, Kylie and Brie just laid together. 

The old, dusty ceiling fans at the far end of the large saloon only barely covering the sounds of the two rivals softly, gently mewling and moaning as they held one another. 

Beautiful, those moments were, and yet finally, they ended. Kylie letting herself roll onto her back from her side. The sex-drunk blonde’s right arm still laying beneath her rival’s body, while her left lifted so that she could brush the sweat-sodden hair from her face. 

“You bitch….” The lighter-haired bartender muttered weakly before her only free hand moved from hair to face, looking to wipe the sweat from around her eyes.

Brie heard the insult, and wanted to reply. To offer up some equally catty curse, but as drops of sweat slowly rolled down her body onto her rival’s, she instead focused on what would come next. 

Each had made the other cum first after long, depleting battles of sexual attrition. Competitions of clits, hips, and tits that had left them even in terms of score (if one should even be kept), but more importantly, in expenditure and debilitation.

Could they lock themselves in a third such battle? After well over an hour of hard, desperate bar top fucking? Could they simply pull together and go again? 

Brie could not see it, in her fatigue. Or count on victory if once more she and her rival sealed their pussies together and ground each other into oblivion. Her sex was already sore and swollen and her clit was rubbed worse than raw. 

Not only that, but the brunette who only a few weeks before could not have imagined an engagement like the one she was neck-deep in, saw opportunity. In the beads of sweat that sat stationary and glimmering between her blonde enemy’s massive tits. 

Heard it, in the labored breathing of both she and the same.

They were both tired. Both spent. Both barely clinging on to consciousness after being so long engaged in a duel of intense sexual potency. 

All of which told Brie that if she could turn that shared exhaustion to her advantage, she could win. Not by some dangling thread. Not in a last second shred of will that let her hold out a moment longer than Kylie. But instead, in a victory full and complete. Where the cocky bitch who had started all of this and then dared to deny the outcome of their first battle, would be bested and broken. And even better, left in such a state while the woman who beat her was strong enough to punish, humiliate, and collar her for those same transgressions. 

It was worth the chance, Brie thought. The benefits of breaking from the tactics they had been using and the game that Kylie no doubt expected them to continue. 

And so the brunette made her play. Claiming the chance she saw by gently leaning in, down, and then taking Kylie’s right nipple into her mouth. 

“What are you–” The blonde began in question, until her words were suddenly cut off by an unexpected pleasure. 

“Slut… Don’t–” Again Kylie started to speak, but once more her words were cut off. This time, not by pleasure, but instead by the palm of Brie’s left hand. A hand that was positioned, along with the arm below it, in just such a way that the entirety of the brunette’s body weight remained firmly planted on the bicep of Kylie’s right arm. 

“Mmmmppphhh…..” With her rival’s palm pressed and placed, Kylie’s already withered complaints about her arm being pinned were further muffled. 

As frustrated as the blonde may have been about being both trapped and unable to speak, it was the continued pleasure Brie inflicted with her mouth that caused her worry. 

The brunette’s nibbling, licking, and lavishing of the blonde’s right nipple with affection being a new, intense, and not yet dulled method of sensual satisfaction. But it was the index and middle finger of that same enemy’s right hand, slipping into her already worn out and soaked sex, that made her panic. 

“Mmmmppphh…. Mmmmnnnppphh….” So often the word panic suggests wild actions and frantic cries, but even as she felt Brie’s pressing palm, attacking mouth, pinning body, and delving fingers working in unison, the blonde bartender was barely able to muster speech, let alone efforts at escape or attack. 

Instead, with what energy she had, Kylie reached her left hand up, grabbed at Brie’s wrist, and tried to pull it away. Knowing that a lack of breath would soon render her unable to fight back, or even remain conscious. 

But as Kylie pulled, her rival not only held on to her smothering grip, but also continued to finger fuck her. Harder. Deeper. Faster. The thumb that hovered just above skewering fingers joining in on the attack, by targeting clit and pressing into it hard. Each of the three digits doing all they could to force another devastating orgasm to take hold and shatter the pussy they dove into like a plunging piston.

Kylie’s sex, in reaction to the multi-pronged attack, leaked, quivered, and seized at Brie’s fingers on every insertion. That telltale sign, along with Kylie’s dampened and deadened sounds of protest turning to moans and cries of pleasure, betrayed how close Brie was to making Kylie cum again.

Despite those signs of onrushing ecstacy, Kylie still fought to pry Brie’s hand from her mouth. Dragging it to the side, so that instead of palms, it was only fingers that covered her lips. And yet still, they were enough, with the blonde’s state of utter weariness, to not only keep her weak and fatigued, but make that state worse with every passing second. 

Kylie’s focus, once she had pulled Brie’s palm off to the side, aimed not at escaping the latter’s deftly stroking fingers, but instead at just breathing. Her large chest swelling as she fought to get air through her rival’s barely spread digits. Every drag of air the blonde tried to take being halved, quartered, or split even further. Leaving her breathless on her back. Sweat pouring down her every curve and pooling atop her every straight. 

She would pass out, save for the pleasure she felt from Brie’s constant sucking and nibbling on her nipple. Perspire and drift off into oblivion, if it wasn’t for the masterful manipulation of her sex at the hand of her enemy. 

An enemy that grew stronger as she laid atop Kylie. Free to breathe and able to position herself so that no effort was needed to hold herself up. A placement that all the while kept the blonde trapped. 

Tapped and moaning. 

Trapped and whimpering. 

Trapped and rushing toward another orgasm that would no doubt rob her of whatever energy she might hope to muster, in her fight against Brie.

In fact, it was that thought that pushed Kylie to bend her head back and to try to latch her teeth onto her rival’s smothering fingers. An effort that failed once and again, for seconds that piled on top of each other cruelly, until finally, she was able to catch the soft flesh of Brie’s mouth-covering middle finger between her teeth. 

It was a chance! A moment to fight back! To escape! Freedom! She could have it if she just bit down hard!

But before she captured that finger, and latched her fangs into it, Kylie’s mind had drifted and her jealousy-birthed intent ebbed. Lost in a mist of lust, pleasure, and passion that was so thick and bewildering, that instead of biting at Brie’s finger, the blonde began to suck on it.

Not as a prelude to an attack. 

Not with force or to keep it from pulling free of her mouth. 

Instead, she was acting on pure instinct once more. All thoughts of rebellion, escape, or competition having evaporated from her mind. Replaced with a desire to caress and reward whoever it was who was bringing her so much intense pleasure. A pleasure that then peaked and with blistering power, burst through the confines of her mind, soul, and all else. The waves crashing down on her in one terrible tumult of tantric rapture after another. 

Brie, for her part, rode that wave. Letting the pace of her stroking fingers and massaging thumb match most perfectly the bucks and shudders ripping through Kylie’s body. 

“Got you, bitch….” Came Brie’s first words after ever so long, spoken just as she pulled her lips from Kylie’s still-rigid nipple and her fingers away from the mewling mouth and devastated sex of the same. The exhaustion that once plagued the darker haired bartendress having retreated, as a lasting rest atop her rival filled her with vigor and vibrance once more. The expression on her face bending into a self-satisfied smile that she made sure to wear as leaned back up to look into the crystal blue eyes of the shattered co-worker beneath her. 

“Ge–get off me….” Withered. Weightless. And burdened with the prefacing resonance of a woman on the verge of tears, the blonde demanded. 

And though Kylie had made that same demand before, only to find it muffled in Brie’s pressing palm, this time, the words were heard. 

Heard and acknowledged with an intentionally cute tilting of Brie’s head, and a knowing glimmer in her amber-toned brown eyes. Eyes that flared with confidence, certainty, and most of all: dominion.  

Kylie, somewhere in her spent, half-breathless state, did not expect the woman whose body pressed down atop her right arm to do as asked. And though she didn’t, Brie still replied. “Fine.” 

A simple acceptance of terms that slithered into the blonde’s ears, as her brunette rival leaned up, and peeled their sweat-drenched bodies apart. A separation of skin that was so long-coming that it let loose an audible sound — half sizzle/half hiss of sweat-soaked flesh coming apart.  

It was then, that with Brie sitting upright, she took a moment to center herself at the edge of the bar top, the drips of perspiration that had pooled between she and her rival’s perfectly thick frames set free to cascade down to the surface beneath them. 

“Mmmm….” Brie mused with sound, as she hopped down between stools on the lobby-side of the bar. The taste of Kylie’s nipple and sex mixing together sweetly as the brunette lifted and then inserted those fingers that once attacked the same into her own mouth. 

“I’m n-not done … cuuunnt….” Kylie’s voice trembled even as it traveled through the hot, moist saloon air. Its frail, feathered sound betraying how close she truly was to being finished, even as the words chosen attempted to convey the opposite. 

“Oh no, you’re not…” In exactly the same way Kylie’s voice conveyed weakness, Brie’s spoke of strength. Strength and malice. “…not yet….”

As the threat left Brie’s lips, she reached out and grabbed the boots on Kylie’s outstretched legs. With that grip on soft, gold-trimmed leather, the brunette yanked the blonde’s body. Spinning her atop the bar top, so that suddenly the bartendress who stood was placed between the spread thighs of her rival. The head, neck, and upper shoulders of the barely-there blonde dangling and hanging off the back of the bar. 

“Slut.” Accused Kylie, in as forceful a voice as she could muster, feeble though it still was. “Let me get up!” She then demanded while her legs began to lift and kick. Trying to free her boots from Brie’s grip, so she could find the space to right herself. 

But her brunette rival hung on, not only hung on, but pulled hard as she hissed. “Boots are for real women.” A cruel, vicious comment that would have pushed Kylie or any other proud Texan woman into violence at any other moment. But as the blonde hung half off either side of the bar, she had to let it pass. 

Had to let it go unanswered, even as the girl who spoke that vial comment into existence tugged her boots all the way off and then let them drop to the saloon’s wood floor. 

As the consecutive leather thuds traveled through the warm, sex-scented air of the saloon, Brie paused. Thinking. Planning. Trying to decide which weapon at her disposal to use on her tuckered out prey. Her mouth would be the most efficient tool and the sharpest knife in her drawer. But She had taken so much pride in knowing that Kylie had been forced to eat her pussy after their previous battle. Now would she give up that satisfaction? Lose it in a moment of passion when the advantage seemed so clearly to be her’s?

Or should she use something else. Something that had played a role in starting all of this. Her tits. Her nipples. Both of which were the spark that made her blonde rival jealous enough to challenge her behind the bar — breast to breast. 

After all, if she used those to finish off her foe, it would mean that not only had her chest bested Kylie’s in their titfight, but that they also helped her seal her victory in whatever battle this was. A battle of wills, ways, and wanton sexual competition. 

Was it a risk? Yes. 

A chance taken that she might regret? Absolutely. 

But the humiliation of it. 

The satisfaction of it. 

The beauty of wrecking this cocky blonde bitch’s clit with her tits was too good to pass up. And so Brie decided with a smirk, and then spoke in a confident, cruel growl. “Now, bitch…. Beg me to stop!” 

At the guttural, feral sound, Blue eyes went wide, as those words and yet another tug yanked Kylie’s body further towards Brie. The arms of the same coiling under and wrapping around Kylie’s outer thighs, only to then hook at the fingers on their soft, essence-coated inside. A strong, dual-armed grip that latched tight only a blink before the brunette leaned in and drove her right breast forward into her enemy’s sore and sopping wet cunt. 

“No!!! Fu-uck Yooouuu!” Finally, and due to sheer panic, Kylie’s energy began to return. Not in a sudden rush that filled her with enough vigor to escape, but in a torturous twist of fate, only enough to clear the sex-made fog from her mind. Leaving her to realize fully what was happening to her. 

Brie’s still hard right nipple diving in to ravage the blonde’s poor defenseless clit, even as she squirmed perilously on the bartop. Legs kicking, hands reaching, and mouth crying out in anger and frustration as a new rush of carnal stimulation began. 

Sensations that the once confidence-filled bartenderess could no longer fight off with sheer will and summoned loathing. Instead, without any defense, the unwanted bliss surged through her undulating body like a river that had broken through a dam. 

Kylie’s lips spewing a steady stream of curses, cries, and threats. 

“Brie!” 

“Let me go!” 

“Stop!”

“Fuck You!”

“I hate you!”

“BIIIIITCHH!!!”

But the more Kylie yelled and the more she protested, the harder, the faster, and the more intensely Brie lavished her swollen pussy with her breast. Using its hard nippled center like a fencing sword.  Slashing it across, stabbing it into, and dragging it up and down her back-laid co-workers raw and overstimulated clitorous. 

Alone, such pleasure would have been tolerable though intensely enjoyable if offered by a lover. But when inflicted by the breast of her rival, of all things. The body part that made Kylie jealous. Made Kylie plan. Made Kylie loath, it was agony — especially with Brie so firmly in control. 

But after three devastating orgasms the thought of it, being fucked into submission by her enemy’s tit and nipple was too much. 

Not in some abstract sense, but in a blistering, splintering, ruinous way that Kylie was sure would scar her if she didn’t find a way to stop it. 

And so she fought. Struggling to get her sex away from Brie’s stroking nipple and thrusting tit. 

Grabbing for sweat-matted brown hair to pull at, the bar top lip to drag herself away with, or by trying to scoot back hard, even if it might mean she would fall off the back of the bar to the floor. The blonde, at that moment, willing to risk anything to reset the terms of their engagement.  

But when none of those efforts worked, Kylie knew. 

She had to. 

Needed to. 

Do something she could have never contemplated when this battle began. 

Beg.

Plead for Brie to stop and to have mercy on her defeated and exhausted kitten so that she was not from that day on scarred. Either physically from the continued assault on an already savagely overstimulated clit, or emotionally from the scarring such an ferocious onslaught might leave her with. 

A fear that grew as with every passing second her poor, abused cunt began to hurt more and more. That pain caming with a powerful and half-muting pleasure that drug Kylie towards another truly cataclysmic orgasm. 

One she wanted to avoid. To escape. Terrified that if she came once more, she would be forever changed. Why? Because she hurt in a way she never had before. 

Kylie had wanted this. A war. A contest of who could take more. A struggle that took them both to their limits, but those limits now reached were more than she could bear, no matter how powerful she thought herself to be when she made the challenge. 

And so she gave in. Abandoning her pride so that she could be free of Brie’s shifting tit and masterfully guided nipple. 

“I give! I give! Stop! Please!” The words were like honey to Brie’s ears, and poison to Kylie’s soul. And yet, even as they drifted in the air above the two, the assault did not stop or even slow. 

Knowing she had won, and truly wanting to shatter her opponent’s confidence once and for all, Brie altered her assault. The victorious brunette deciding to use both of her tits, instead just one. Doing so by pulling back just enough to begin to shift her upper body left and then right, right and then left, using her thigh-placed fingers to keep Kylie’s swollen pussy lips apart, as once and again Brie’s dagger-tipped nipples drug against the blonde’s decimated clit.

“Brie! PLEEEEEEAAAAAASE!” Kylie cried out in desperation! “I’ll do-do aaaaaanyyyyything!”

“ANYYYYYTTHHHHIIINNNGGG!!! You wi-win!” She continued in horror as suddenly it came for her. 

“Iiiii’mmmm YOOOOOUUUUURS! You oooooowwwwwnnnnn me-oh oh oh FUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKK!!!” A fourth terrible orgasm exploding inside of her like a supernova. Her every muscle tensing and seizing, as from her already soaked and savaged pussy, a spurt of sticky hot secretion was spewed onto Brie’s slowing and yet still dragging tits. 

All as Kylie shuddered and shook. Her tummy rippling uncontrollably, just as her thighs caught hard under Brie’s arms. All semblance of control, balance, and strength leaving the broken blonde’s bested body and sundered sex.

The lips of the conquered bartendress, when after almost a minute the cries of pleasure and screams of pain passed, began to mumble feebly and almost without sound those last words she tried to speak. “You own me….” A chant, a prayer, tendered with what little Kylie had left within her. Perhaps in the hope that Brie would accept her pleas — her complete and total submission. 

“Mmmmm, you beg so good, Kylie….” Brie mused with a smirk, as finally she withdrew from between her enemy’s thighs. The brunette’s right hand moving to wipe a series of dangling liquid-made drips that in transparent bridges of ecstasy connected her tits and her enemy’s inner thighs and cunt. 

“Now….” An ominous prelude though it was, Brie let the word hang, as she reached up, grabbed Kylie’s left arm,  and then drug her up from her back and to a wobbly sit on the lip of the bar. 

Sweat dripped from both she who stood and she who sat as the brunette continued. “You’re going to get down, gather up your clothes and mine. You’re going to dress me, and then yourself. But don’t you put those pretty boots on, Kylie, those are mine — just like you. Then you’re going to get in my car, I’m going to take you to my place, and you’re going to spend the weekend showing Kaylee and I what a good little slave you can be.” 

Kylie, as she sat listening, began to cry. Sobbing softly and nodding, as her hands moved between her thighs and began to slowly massage her poor ravaged sex. 

“Do you understand me?” Brie asked, wanting to hear Kylie’s tearful acceptance spoken, not just shown. 

Though the blonde atop the bar was willing to do all that was asked, her fatigue slowed her response. For one second and then two, and before a third could pass, Brie reached up and snatched Kylie from her perch and down to a wobbly stand. Her bootless feet landing on broken peanut shells that stabbed into the soles of her feet painfully. But it was the pain of her head being yanked hard to the left by Brie’s hair-laced fingers.

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” The victorious brunette yelled, demanding an answer.

“Yes, yes…. Please, anything…..” Answered Kylie tearfully, only a second before her nude and sweaty body was drug hard into Brie’s. A body to body collision capped with a hateful kiss that saw the forceful tongue of one dive deep into the dry, submission-coated mouth of the other. 

That fiery kiss continued, even as tears slowly dripped between the two rivals’ sealed lips. Flavoring the long connection of lip, tit, and tongue with salt and sadness, until suddenly it broke. Brie then tossing Kylie down to the floor next to a collection of their discarded clothes. 

“You have five minutes, bitch. If we’re not in my car by then, I’m  going to lock us pussy to pussy again, and fuck you until you bleed.” The words were harsh and cruel, and yet upon hearing them, Kylie did not but crawl and obey. 

Words and burdens that hung around Kylie’s neck over the next few days and weeks like a chained anchor. Each night spent cervix deep in Brie’s pussy, trapped beneath her round creamy white ass, or used like a sex toy by she and her horny roommate. 

And though such subjugation was not complete or without rebellion, none of those moments compared to what occurred when finally the yoke of Brie’s dominion grew too heavy for Kylie to bear. 

A day that would end in a reckoning at The Riviera. 

To Be Continued.

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