Carmen
She was the cute one. The pretty one. The one with a perfect body, big tits, and the ability to turn even the most loyal men and women into putty with a quick switch from innocent to smoldering. And so naturally, I hated her. We’d never even spoken and yet I wanted to ruin her. Something about her perfection bothering me. Everything about it, actually.
And so I asked to be her next fight. Now only asked, but got down on my knees to beg the man in charge to put her in my way. His lips said no, but mine — mine said yes. And after they slid up and down his cock for a pathetic number of minutes, he agreed with me.
Going into that fight, I heard the whispers. The softly put warnings. Bri’s a bitch when you make her angry. She’s a hellcat when she extends her claws. Undefeated against Jennifer “The Better Woman”, as if beating that timid little wall flower means a thing.
And though all those comments were right, and though Bri was everhing she was said to be. I beat her. Yes, I ended up in a pool of blood, mine and hers. Scratched and clawed — pinched and twisted. But still, beneath me, she gave in. Not with words, as I took that ability away from her. But in a slow, vicious smother. Cutting her off from the air, until she was no more than a lump of torn flesh to be drug off the battlefield.
It wasn’t my first victory, but it was THE victory. The one that took me from the new girl, to being the hottest, most wanted catfighter there is. A role that comes with a sudden need to upgrade. From Pennies to Saks Fifth. And from Michael Kors to Louis Vuitton.
But between those two stops, I come here. To this exclusive lingerie store, to gather up enough clothes to last me my next few matches. Yes, they’ll all be destroyed. But afterward, I can sell them on eBay, and make all the money spent back. It’s incredible to think what a little bit of spilled catfighter blood does to the resale value of torn and tattered panties.
A thought that brings a smile to my face as I pull the metal handle, on the heavy glass door open and step inside. My newly assigned assistant close behind. Her long skirt, cleavage-exposing white blouse, and casual flats clashing in the best of ways with my skin tight blue bodycon dress, and bright red, stiletto heels.
Ewa
It’s been quite some time…. Nearly 4 months since my last fight…. But it’s how I like it these days…. Why get in the pit or wreck a penthouse every month, when I can drop a fight twice or three times a year and still make the same amount of cash?? — It’s the perks of doing this long enough, to be desirable enough that the mere mention of my name on a video prompts the ‘pre-orders’…. Yes…. People will pre-fucking-order a VOD these days just to get a 24-hour viewing advantage on others, an interview, or a post-fight scene in the showers or the ER room….
But I always kept my eyes on the scene…. It’s a backstabbing business…. There is always the new bitch on the scene….. And this is not a ‘sport’….. There are no drafts, ‘college leagues’ or any form of foresight involved in how or when someone would storm in and change the ever-shifting hierarchy and volatile pecking order…..
And such was the case last month with Carmen…… A bitch that barely anyone heard her name…. That I had to actually go and google her previous fights, to find only two…. Two that she won, but none that made much splash….. But your third against Bri, it was a slaughter….. The brutal setup itself, fighting in that pit with the water up to your knees only added to the terrifying savagery of it, all until the shocking ending that shocked everyone….
And it’s that exact shock that I feel right now, as Tiffany, my personal shopper gasps the words;
“Omg, is that Carmen???”
My head turning, and staring at the blue dress wearing slut….. Eyes narrowing, watching you wading through the department store, wine glass in hand, and your PS behind you, holding the pile of lingerie that you seem to have picked…..
Your head turns and our eyes lock up, and I see one thing in them… The thing that I was curious if I would find…. I see…. Recognition…. And on top of it, the extra emotion that is already radiating from my eyes… Animosity….
Carmen
Red. Blue. White. Black. Purple. Three of each color, two of each style, and enough to make my poor assistant question, “do we really need this many pairs?” I let the question hang long enough for her — for Amy to assume I am ignoring her, only to softly hiss back. “I need them more than I need you.”
I know the comment will sting. That it will hurt and no doubt silence her tongue until the next time I speak to her. Which is why when she suddenly steps forward and into me, raising her left hand to my ear and with a cupping palm, and curling fingers whisper, “It’s Ewa.” I freeze.
At first from Amy’s audacity, temerity, and gaul, but then at the hearing of your name. The name of the legend. The name of the former queen of the catfighting scene. It’s not fear that grips me, or anhing ridiculous like awe. But instead the sudden realization of opportunity.
“Amy, go to the changing room. Close all the stall doors but one. In the stall you leave open, I want you to place your cell, prop it up so that its camera has a good view, then turn on the camera to record.” My instructions are swift. Certain. And after they have been delivered bring a wicked smirk to my face.
“Wait, why, what are you…?” Amy asks foolishly before I tilt my head to the left and down, immediately sending her, without words off to do what I have instructed. Knowing anhing less would earn more than another cruel retort.
As Amy moves, and in an effort to make sure you pay no attention to her, I turn and lock gazes with you. Glares with you. Doing my best to convey my complete lack of respect and utter contempt for you and everhing you have ever accomplished.
It is only then, when she walks away, that in this distant and cutoff section of the store, filled with just the four of us, Amy and I and you and your assistant, that I speak loudly enough for us all to hear. “Did they let you out of the retirement home for a lap around your old haunts, Ewa?”
Ewa
The air itself gets heavy… Thickening like water…. But we are not two ships that are going to just pass each other in the night…. No…. Like two sharks that suddenly could smell the blood on each other’s fangs, we spasm and twirl, turning in each other’s directions…… Our blood lust stiffening our bodies and sharpening our senses….
I see the little act with your assistant… The short abrupt words you give her, and the surprise on her eyes….. My eyes narrow as I glare, watching her walk off to the changing rooms, which occupy a good 1/3 of the floor space of this entire story of the department building…. Each room big enough to be legal to rent in London or NYC as living spaces….
But then, your words cut through the air, and my body stiffens in rage….. Oh how I loathe those words….. ‘Retirement home’?? — How predictable… How lazy….. An insult so generic that my lips curl up with a little smirk, and my eyes roll slightly…. But alas, it does get the job done…. It got my attention, and now, will be ripe for exacting my fury….
I turn my head and whisper to my assistant…. As I push my cell phone atop the pile of lingerie she’s holding…
“Go find that little runt…. And make sure we have the changing room section all for ourselves….. This bitch and I need to…. TALK….”
She nods and scampers after Amy, leaving us standing there, vicious grins on our faces, as I slowly pace up towards you… Still owing you a response…. My left hand on the hip of my silver dress….. My right coming up, and I slowly press my index claw on your cleavage, and softly drag it down… Not scratching, just trailing down your smooth skin, feeling the firmness of your breasts….
“No one lets me out of anywhere, Carmen….” — I purr your name, letting you know that I fucking know who you are… Not that anyone in the circuits does not these days….. “Want another shot at trying to get under my skin?? — Or should we just go where you sent your little lap dog, and try it again, with your claws this time?”
Carmen
It isn’t the pain that drew me to this profession, clearly. Not the thrill of victory that I am chasing, or the recognition from mouth-breathers and neck-beards who watch our videos and stalk me in the airport. No, it’s this.
This moment.
The moment before.
The air between us sizzling with electricity as we each move closer. Eyes narrowing, breaths quickening, pulses picking up speed. It is as if every moment spent growing, learning, and abiding by the social contact disappears. The human part of us fading as the animals — the cats inside of us take full and unrelenting control.
Your demands for more words. Better words. All as you trail a claw down my chest and between my breasts making me fight with all I have not to immediately attack you. Waiting, instead for you to quiet, so that I can reply.
“You are so right, Ewa. I am not letting you out of here….” I reply with an expression and tone that turns from distant and dismissive to cruel and certain. My left hand extending out to your beautiful dark hair. Taking a soft, handful of its longest point as I continue. “Not without carving my name into your fucking chest. Not without making sure that the old queen of catfighting knows she has been deposed. With that in mind, why don’t we head back to the dressing rooms. You know, find out what our assistants are up to….”
Ewa
Our words are deliberate…. Slow…. Our breaths churning against each other’s skin in this closeness……. Announcing how badly we want to get our hands on each other….. It’s not that I care much to avenge Bri…. Sure, we were close once, fucked plenty, dated for a brief time, before turning on each other after we got booked for our next fight to reveal again what kind of backstabbing venomous serpents the other is…. It’s not that you’ve bested her in your single battle that concerns me…. I’ve bested her too, and got destroyed by her in others…..
It’s that you could lay the hurt on her, proving that you’re in my league, that concerns me….. That you’re a serious contender for the ‘Queen Bitch’ title, in an industry where we have no rankings, no belts, no titles, and nothing but the endless bitch biting at another bitch’s hinds, while another dog fight is taking part in another corner of the yard….. Each hurting, wounding, mauling another just for the rush of it…. And of course, the spoils of war…..
You stream your fingers through my hair and I purr, stepping into you, letting our breasts bump, and I hiss at you…. “You’re not so young yourself, you hateful bitch… Don’t think for a second that I won’t deepen those wrinkle lines and crow feet when carving your eyes out….. Let’s go….”
I hiss and turn, bumping my shoulder into yours and heading to the changing rooms… I see two customers, dismayed as they are being told they have to go to another floor, looking at us with outraged expressions on their faces, but I ignore them stepping into the long alley seeing all the doors closed…. Tiffany and Amy standing at the end in front of the only open changing stall….. I make my way to it and seeing the two phones set on a small shelf housing a small plant, I smirk a little….. And without words I step inside….
I walk up to the pile of lingerie that I picked… And slipping my feet out of my heels, I begin to strip down, pulling my dress, bra, and thong off…. My back turned to you and them, not caring, as I reach for a black body suit…. Ah, tricky to get into those, but I bet the resale on my OnlyFans or Ebay will make it worth, as I sit on the edge of a small stool and slip my legs into it, cautiously trying to not rip it…. But what’s the point… Soon it will be shredded….
Carmen
With every second that passes we move closer. Some of the distance covered intentional, but more of it a result of gravity. Not a force that pulls us towards the earth, but instead together. The catty magnetism we have spent years building catching and dragging us together even without us knowing it.
Still, it is you who takes the final step. Stepping into me with your breasts. A challenge in itself. A dare in itself. One that I would leap on, as the starting shot, or waving of the checkered flag if we were alone.
Alone and filmed. Each of us knowing that a video of any halfway decent fight is worth money. But especially one between us. The new star and the tried and true cat-magnate. And so I wait.
We wait.
You reminding me of how close we are in age, before bumping me with your shoulder and then leading us back to the playground where we will soon destroy one another. Kicking out those plebeians who dare exist in a world where we are to struggle. Passing out henchwomen and moving into our chosen dressing room to change.
Each of us into black. You into a full body, fishnet body suit, and me into a panties, thigh highs, a garter, and a black bra and corset combo. Neither of us wasting out time flaunting our bodies to one another. Those being the game of younger, first-time fighters. Those who learned how to fight from scripted videos they found online. Women who haven’t been through what we have.
Women who aren’t laser-focused on getting to the real meat of a catfight. The moment claws come out and competitors lunge.
Ewa
No words are uttered, as we both step into the 400sq ft changing room…… That is much nicer in so many places I’ve lived and slept in during my journey on this Earth……. We silently turn our backs to the other and strip down…. Amy and Tiffany exchanging looks before reaching and pulling the door closed behind us, but not without casting one more look on our curvy naked bodies slithering into the lingerie…. They don’t have to worry about the damages and costs, they do have our credit card numbers afterall…..
I push my hands up and ruffle my hair out of the body suit, and with a smirk, I turn slowly, only to scowl in rage, staring at how fucking good you look in that black number……. A fuckable slut…. Who knows how to look fuckable….. It’s part of the allure…… Men, who are the biggest chunk of our target audience want to see pretty girls fight…. And fight dirty…… It’s why we fight the way we do, with little to no rules….. Just animals shredding and ripping each other….
There are other leagues, with more statuesque and ‘ripped’ combatants, but those are the types you can call a sport, with referees and rulesets and often dress codes…. But we? We look like two hookers, or perhaps in our case high-paid escorts, ready to bend over to take a cock or eat a pussy…. If not for the hateful glares in our eyes…. And the curling of our claws…..
A sneer leaves my throat, a growl leaves yours… Fingers tighten and with a roar we LUNGE for each other, like two felines….. My left claws SWIPING down, trying to drag down the length of your right arm, from shoulder to elbow, as my right paw thrusts forwards, trying to bury my claws into your big bulging left breast……
Carmen
Once dressed, now in less clothing and with less coverage than moments before, we allow ourselves to look. To examine. Not out of lust, but to prepare our tactics. Are there any visible wounds to take advantage of? Larger than average nipples to grab, pinch, and twist? Piercings to tear off?
How will that hair stand up to being pulled at? Do legs tell a tale with signew and crease, of a painful leg scissor if one were latched on?
We make our analysis. Our calls, without announcing them. And then at least for the last few steps to get in range, we turn it on. The act. Knowing we’re being filmed. Knowing that at least in part we’re putting on a show. Our purpose-driven steps turning into a saunter. At first forward and then to the side as we begin to circle. Glaring at each other, and sending the message that THIS will be no soft, tussley, giggle-fight. It will be real. It will be merciless. And at the end of it, will leave only one of us on the throne.
Crown thought this is for, no trumpets sound, or colors present, instead with a shrill hiss we leap at each other. Digging nails into opposing arms with one hand, and then into the others tits with the other. Your hands working to pull down my bra, and mine to shred your body suit. Needing to dig nails into flesh.
Flesh that we can weaken. Flesh that we can ruin. Flesh that we can shred as together we stumble. Focusing on offense and attack, and not our footing and placement. Looking to reach, at the end of this LONG road, the moment when one of us has been broken. Beaten. And battered into complete and pathetic submission.
Ewa
Screeching with rage and anticipation, we don’t waste a moment circling, taunting or peacocking…… We both lunge and SINK our claws into flesh and sheer lace alike…. Loud CRIES of rage and pain fill the room as our bodies collapse together, and nails SLICE and DICE across soft skin….
Outside the room, our two attendants are still standing there, ears pressed to the door, while holding one of their phones… They hid Tiffany’s phone behind the vase next to ours, and facetime called Amy’s phone, so they can watch with the call on mute…… And they watch as we slam together, clawing and mauling chests while marking the other’s right arms….
“Fucking BITCH!!” I roar in rage as we turn, your right claw mauling my left tit, tearing and shredding at the lacey fabric…… My left claw coming up and I SWIPE at your face, nails curled, trying to slash it across your pretty right cheek and up towards your nose….
The room spinning around us, the sounds of fabric ripping, popping, stretching, locked in a menacing combat…. A fight that was never sanctioned or ordered… That would reward us very little monetarily, but yet one that we desire out of our own… NEED… To find out, who’s better….
Carmen
For a moment, in a maelstrom of unrecognized jealousy, threat-based hate, and sheer feminine pride, we are mirrored, each of us clawing at the other in the same way, at the same time. Testing and tasting the way our nails dig and drag against each others skin. Preparing the others top for the further destruction that is to come, as I shred your body suit, at least the section in front of your breasts. A removal of obstacle matched, by your hands prying down my bra. Our breasts exposed to each other and to the cruelty that is to follow.
Our wild cries echoing off expensive leather walls, as assistants who had never once even laid a hand in another girl’s hair, giggle and gasp at what they see us doing. What they see us doing on the phone they remain huddled around.
But as they gawk, you go for my face. A beautiful face I managed to keep away from the other girls I fought. Somehow. Someway. And following that same instinct that protected, I move to evade, as your claws near. Bending my neck and head to the left and then right, all as I step back and away from the abyss.
At the sudden removal you smirk, thinking I am afraid. That I have shown you my achilles heel. Stepping after me, demanding to dig your nails into my cheek. And when you come I surge forward. Pressing my body and breasts into you. Small drips of blood coming from my right arm, even as it raises, and it’s sharp talons dig into your own, soft, cheek. An attack that comes with no effort made to avoid you finally separating the flesh of my face with your own weapons. My every thought aimed to show you. To tell you. I will go anywhere, do anhing, and cross every line to win this and beat you.
Ewa
The fronts of my body suit and your corset missing a large chunk, revealing red traces on our otherwise perfect bosoms….. Screeches filling the air as the pain and burns our claws are leaving on flesh and skin are only forcing up the need for one thing… ESCALATION…. Crazed rage as my left paw swipes up for your face, and you duck and weave back….. Tucking your head in, and I stagger after you…. My eyes wide with rage, only to be fooled by your tactic as you duck and LUNGE into me, thrusting your chest into my own, your left bared tit and my right exposed one SMASHING together, and you make sure your claws bite into my cheek first and SLASH down forcing a loud CRY of my lips as I’m shocked at the cleverness of your tactic and ruthless ferocity….
Burns rising from my cheek as now it’s your turn to drive me back, chest to chest, my right arm clinching around you tightly, nails stabbing into your upper back and RAKING down, to the line of your corset that I TUG and RIP at, while our left claws gouge and scratch across cheeks, then my legs hit the edge of the small changing stool, and I fall down on it, pulling you with me and we thump down on it, pressed, bosom to bosom, faces lost in each other’s manes…..
Snarling in fury I kick up with my left leg and curl it around the back of your right, nylons hissing and rubbing…… While my other foot braces to the stool and kick off, sending us flopping off it and crashing to the floor hard, with you beneath me, trying to knock the wind out of you……
Carmen
I know it got around the girls, from lips to ear, that I was too precious about my face. That I guarded it. Protected it. And so I bait you with that rumor. Seeming to panic as your nails near, and retreat as they set to pierce skin. Only to seconds letter surge back into your, and in the intimate, small space between us, share the shattering of that mh. Each of us digging and clawing at each others cheeks as we hiss and snarl in each others face. Warm breathing crashing in unseen waves against freshly drawn blood and large breasts meet and mesh.
But in that moment, as tasty and terrible as it was, the pain of it marking even my dark soul, I had momentum. And so we move. The back of your legs hitting, and then after a necessary hop, come to rest on a stool. There, for a moment, we war.
Nylon-covered legs coiling together, and dragging. The sound of them matching hisses with us, while our hands move to each others bodies and push. Grab for each others shoulders and pull. For a moment, the two of us looking like catfights in an 80’s movie, with hair wildly splaying out in every direction. Until with a brutal suddenness, you dislodge your body weight and use it to throw us both down to the floor beneath us in a heavy, hurtful thud. You landing on top of me, and knocking the wind from my lungs, though our legs remain coiled and our bodies tightly pressed.
Ewa
There is a brutal savagery to fighting YOU…. I sense it…. It’s that rare rush you get when you meet someone for a clash for a first time and get to taste her mettle….. Fighting a ‘rival’ is exciting of course, but there is nothing to compare to meeting another….. Equal…. And figuring out, in the most painful of ways, how equal you two are….. And with every step you cost me, I find it out more…. Feeling your strong hips thrusting into mine…. Your thighs displacing my own and forcing me on my back to the stool……
On my back I can feel you… How you fight… I can hear the growls as you grind and press your body down on mine… Rubbing the scratched breasts together, pushing your clawed cheek against my own as we snarl, but it doesn’t last long before I flip us over and we crash down….
And on the floor, I can hear the groan coming off your lips….. And with a vicious snarl I BITE at your hair with my teeth, my hands slipping between our bodies and I PUSH hard, I know I can’t break us apart or roll away… Your legs are tangled with mine with enough strength to deny any separation, but as I perform a practical push-up using your tits for support, I JERK my head back and RIP a tuft of your hair with my teeth before spitting it down on you, snarling in rage as my claws SLASH and TEAR at the front of your corset, exposing your other breast to sharp etched claws…
Carmen
There is an escalation that happens. An intensity that is matched when true catfighters meet. And with every moment that passes, we are like a fuel for the other. An accelerant, that like a poison, we inject into each other with the raw animal intensity we show.
A passion and a power that does not ebb, but instead increases as we crash down to the floor. You biting at my hair (MY HAIR!), and tearing at it like a dog while you press your upper body off of mine, with cruel clawing grasps on my breasts. Ripping roots from my scalp, as you maliciously snap back and up.
A sight that drives me insane! And a pain that makes me howl! Each such sense pushing me to chase after you and to latch my teeth onto your exposed right breast. Not the nipple, or the areola, but at the surrounding flesh. My teeth digging in hard and deep. Just as my hands move to your wrists and work to pry them free from my tits. All as out legs, slide and squeal from opposing and dragging nylon. Our bodies centered at our pubic mounds, which to any other two women might spark a desire. A need. A carnal calling to cull. We are as lost in this hate. This war. This need to destroy each other, as any two women ever have been or will be.
Ewa
Snarls and hisses…. Sounds that a room like this, and ONLY a room like this could hear and echo, outside of the regular cages and pits they are usually reserved for…. Only a place like this, where a woman has to write a cheque or swipe her credit card for tens of thousands of dollars just to buy a scarf or a shoe, could things escalate to such a manner…. Battles born out of pride, seething, hatred, and jealousy….. Taking part between true alphas, who could climb the socio-economic ladder with nothing but their looks and instincts, only to find themselves surrounded by dangerous rivals everywhere they turn….
Outside, our two personal shoppers are still standing, ears pressed to the door, hearing the mayhem, trying to guess what is happening, who is doing what, and who is having the upper hand… But our special breed of loathing and combat are certainly hard to decipher…… Completely….. Our bodies wrapped around each other on the carpeted floor, with you on top… Snarling as we latch our teeth to one another…. I take your hair and RIP a strand clean off, and your response, is going for the flesh…. And you come as close to an animal trying to rip a chunk of meat off my body as you can, causing me to howwwwwl in pain and despair, my head shaking wildly,crying out in pain…
“NOOOO NOOOO NOOOOO AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” — The first clue to our hidden voyeurs that it’s me getting horribly hurt right now….. Screaming as your teeth sink around my aerolas…… While our mounds press and grind through the thing panties….. It’s undeniable, that dampness covering the thin material, soaking it, and causing every ridge and ripple of our labia and clits to be pronounced…. A proof that we are both…. getting off… this vicious battle…. Over hurting another woman, and perhaps, also getting hurt……
I sneeeeeer in rage…… as your hands pry at my wrists, capturing them, you get my left one, and I feel you pushing and pinning it down, but my right one is more elusive, as I pull it off your breast, and slip it up, capturing your left ear, and I curl my fingers around the shell, sinking my nails into the back and roots of your soft cartilage, my thumb nail pushing for an unwelcome invasion to your ear canal itself, pushing int as I grab your ear and TWIST it……, pulling your head to my left, even as you still clutch my flesh with my teeth…..
And with a vicious snarl, I tuck my head up, and lean in, baring my teeth, I try to bite at your other ear, but I can’t stretch my neck that way, so instead, I sink my teeth into your right temple, and use my incisors to wedge into your tight soft skin, gnawing madly.
Carmen
The other women I fought for money. For placement and power. Wanting to climb the ranks, the ladder, and into the minds of all those men and women that find pleasure in two women fighting. Not with gloves and with rear-naked chokes, but like women. Like cats. As it was meant to be. As were bred for, when conflicts arise.
But you, I realize, with every moment and minute that passes, I hate. Despise. LOATHE. And because of that, even if someone shouted that all I had hoped to gain when I lured you into this room was forfeit, I would keep fighting. Keep hurting and keep biting your fucking tit until you grovel before me. Until you, with tears streaming from your intensely gorgeous eyes, beg me to stop hurting you.
God, the power of it. The passion of it. The hunger I have to ruin you is beyond anhing I have ever felt in my life, and I love it. My hand catching your left wrist, and then pinning it to the ground. Seeking to do the same with your right, when I can pry it from my tit, but before I can you use it to grab my ear, and like a mother schooling her child turned demon, you pry my head to the side and then bite my face. Your sharp canine’s piercing the flesh on my temple like some piercing made by lioness.
“FUCK, FUCK, FUUuuuuuUUcccckKKKKK, AAAIIIIEIEEEEE!!!” I cry, as my teeth release from your tit and I try to rear back and away from you. My right hand keeping your left wrist pinned, as my free left hand moves to the forearm of your right arm, and then claws desperately. Knowing I need you to release my ear, so that I can then make you let your jaw unclench from its cruel bite of my face.
Ewa
Pinned on my back on the lush carpeting, I can already feel it getting damper and stickier, courtesy of the sweat we’re both exuding generously… The kind that would have formed a small puddle around us had we been on the harsh concrete of one of our typical arenas for the VOD’s; or a distinguishable gray stain on the sheets of some bed…… But right now, we both know that we are willing to go… further… Just for the fucking right that we both feel we are entitled to…
To being the Queen of CAT Mountain….
The one on top…… Seething we gnaw at flesh…. Faces clawed and breasts mauled, the large orbs roll between our bodies, yours just beneath mine as you scream and release your bite on my breast, now bleeding, blood bubbling out quietly from random cuts courtesy of your gnawing teeth, but I can’t see or notice, as I twist your ear and bite your fucking temple and upper cheek… Growling… I feel you twisting and grabbing at my arm…. Snarling…. I sink my claws deeper, knowing my bite can not be sustained…. There is only one thing to do right now, while you’re going on the defensive….
Take some ground….. Because, I know you will give me nothing, I must… TAKE it….
I bend my right leg and press my foot to the floor, and with a violent TWIST, I let my teeth slide up to catch some of your hair, as your claws sink deeper into my forearm and I THRASH my body to the left, kicking at the floor, and trying to roll us over, even as I feel my nails scraping at your ear, losing their grip….. Trying to trade that painful grip for the upper position….
Carmen
I spread my thighs wide as I rear back. Dig my knees in deepe to the carpet. Shifting my body weight to try and stay on top of you, even as I scream out in pain on top of you. Neither of us wanting to look weak in front of the other, and yet here, in this contest we have chosen, there is no choice. No other option but to wear pain, mistake, and agony like a blinking neon sign.
And right now, mine is so fucking bright. A strobe that looks like the sun, as I seem to melt on top of you, as your teeth pierce through my flesh and blood. Blood dripping into your mouth, and between our pressed and roiling orbs as you increase the pressure. Driving your nails into my ear, as you start to buck hard and violently. Releasing your bite on my face, as you begin to knock me up into the air a centimeter and then an inch, only to have all of it lead to a slow, twisting inevitability that sees you turning me over.
Trying to mount me. To take the position atop my body, but I fight you. I strain against you. Wrapping my left arm around your back, and smashing our bloody, sweat-covered tits together, as my own feet plant into the carpet and try to give me the same leverage you just claimed for yourself. In that effort we turn again, in the same direction. My grip on your wrist, and yours on my ear releasing somewhere in the whirlwind of action and contrary wills. And yet, even with that freedom, you find the strength, the angle, and the power to slam me down to the carpet and my back.
My eyes closing for just a blink, when finally we are still, only to open and find you mid-way through executing your next attack. A cruel, confident smirk on your gorgeous, blood-stained lips.
Ewa
Sometimes, we make it look easy… Seamless….. That ‘rolling’ action that all the fans love to see, and go wild for….. A study was made once by a firm the industry hired, to see what fans love to see more… A list that included ‘Bearhugging’ ‘Mutual hairpulling’ ‘Breast mauling’, etc…. And the one item that won among them all was ‘Furious rolling’…..
Except, out of all of them, it’s perhaps the least realistic, and most exaggerated….. Not because it can’t happen naturally, but between two foes…. It’s actually quite an ordeal…… When fighting an equal, she will try to stop you from claiming the top place, and you will fight her and gravity at the same time…. And it’s exactly what is happening now, as we growl and struggle….. One of my shoulders touching the floor, my right butt cheek lifted, our hips mashed together….. You catching both of my arms, my teeth pulling on your hair, your hips grinding into me… A whole MESS of leverage points and shifting center of mass, that causes the motion to take almost half a goddamn minute, before finally, the pain I’m dishing out, coupled with the leverage of my foot finally brings in the breaking of the stalemate, and we flop over, you to your back and me atop of you….
You still have me by the wrists, but now, I am willingly pushing my arms DOWN on yours, my hands trying to clutch back at you as I stare into your eyes with a devious grin….. My breasts and yours mashing, rubbing, the cuts and scratches burning as they pin and flatten one another…. But it’s my hip that comes CRASHING down with a vicious, pin-point accurate thrust, after long minutes of surveying, and finding exactly where your clit is, beneath your panties, slamming mine directly on it with a sadistic thrust, while hissing…
“Got you… BITCH….”
Carmen
I am putting everhing into this battle. Not because I was told to, or because I am being forced to, but because I feel the need to do so in my very soul. And so I fight against you mounting me with EVERYTHING I have. All my strength and limbs. Hating the very idea of you being atop me. Refusing to give you even a second’s worth of feelings like you are in control.
But I am too experienced and too good at this game — at catfighting, to make the cardinal mistake of fighting a pin, when it is locked in. Wasting my energy trying to turn us over again, without you being distracted or having even a hint of momentum.
And so I still beneath you, glaring up into your eyes, as my hands slide up from quickly taken grips on your wrists, to let our palms press, fingers lace, and hands bind together. Your forearms pinning mine to the floor, as between out war-torn bodies, our sweaty tits compress together again. This time surrounded by an intensity-filled silence. The tension, hatred, and jealousy we each feel for one another so thick in the air, not even our sharp, battle-broken nails could cut through it.
There we remain, without speaking for what feels like an eternity, and yet it coud only have been a minute, possibly two. A minute in which your hips shift, raise, aim, and then finally, slam down on mine. Your sex and mine crashing together violently at their very center. A blow that causes both pain and pleasure — rapture and ravage.
Your lips, after you send me a physical message of femeinine dominance, then parting to tell me that you have me, just before mine open to respond.
Not with words.
Not with some witty retort.
But with a quick drawing of saliva and blood into a ball of spit that I set free into your face. My expression thereafter forging like steel into a snarl with narrowed, amity filled eyes.
Ewa
Our bodies wreaked with pain… How long has it been since the door shut on us??? Five minutes???? Seven??? Ten??? But here we are, already bloodied and bruised…. With enough marks on us to warrant much more than an ‘explanation’ if someone called the cops… Too many to convince a judge or a jury that this was anhing but an assault with the intent of causing severe injury to the other….
Faces scratched, skin broken… Breasts swollen and mauled…. Backs bruised with slaps and hand prints…. And now, all of a sudden, our bodies STIFFEN with the thrust of my hips and my eyes meet yours… I smirk, and you scowl… But our eyes say the same…. The only difference here, is that I am on top…. Or the expressions would have been flipped….
And I feel your shoulders and arms relax…. You are no longer trying to exert strength to force me off you… The changing winds blow hard upon us, and I know, that this is now, getting into another phase….. Another warfare… A far more… intimate one….
I still press my elbows on yours, the easiest points of contact to maintain the pin…… Arms out side to the side, finger tips jammed into the other’s backs……
My breast swell, my lungs burn….. My tummy flutters, and my face… Is suddenly DROWED with your spit….. Splashing, spreading, and I taste it on my lips and tongue… The contempt in your eyes flaring as your own spittle begin to drool and drip down on your face….
And without a word, I lift my hips up again, and I…. SLAMMM it down on your barely covered cunt….. Another mutual groan of discomfort, pain, and pleasure rising from our lips….
And as your face twists in it, I purse my lips, having gathered my own spit, and I SPIT it violently down at you, turning my head as I do, to ‘spray’ it across both sides of your face, trying to cover as much of your pretty, mauled face with my saliva……..
Carmen
I want to have you. To ruin you. To consume you. To have this moment– this battle — this inferno of passion, malice, and anger quench a thirst that can never be quenched. And though I want all of that, and everhing a battle between two women can entail, as you slam your hips down and crash your clit into mine, through thin, shifting panties, I am suddenly unsure. My eyes narrowing from their already slivered glare, to a look of distrust as I tilt my head to the side and try to decipher your plan and tactic, even as saliva gathers, descends, and then drips from your face onto my tits.
What is happening? What are you doing? Why are you doing it? Do I want it? Can this be the way we settle things? I can feel it. The pull of it. The gravity of it. Our panties getting wet as we struggled. Our pride clashing and crashing such a way that we cannot help but to find ourselves excited and hungry for carnal satisfaction.
Can I trust you? To drop my defenses and leave our disagreement between clits and not claws?
Is this a ruse? To push me to leave myself open and unassuming, before you stab a proverbial dagger in my back, as soon as I let myself drift off into a focus on sensuality and sexual strain?
I study your eyes, as you once again lift your hips and then slam them down. My own lower half stirring, and in tiny, testing responses, grinding my pussy into yours. Our panties with every touch shifting to the side, and wedging themselves between our deep triangle and thigh.
The sounds that escape our lips sounding less like shrieks and screams and more like gentle, hoping moans. The last escaping your pretty mouth before you purse your lips and then spit in my face.
On contact, my eyes close, and hands move to your hair, thereafter lacing deep and taking a firm hold. A hold I use to pull you closer, and then as we lay, face to face, I lick my lips, and taste your spit before I speak. “This.” I hiss, as I suddenly and for the first time, jam my cunt up into yours harshly.
“Doesn’t” Comes another word, as I repeat my thrust, each of yelping at the impact that results.
“Change.” Again another syllable, and again another vicious grind of my pussy against yours.
“Anhing….” I could say more. Add context. Explain what I mean, but you know on instinct. The prime driver of all that is occuring, there on the floor of that changing room.
Ewa
The maddening violence suddenly abates…. And we both feel it… The wide eyes gaze into each other, spit caught on the ends of long lashes, as our own breaths are withheld in our chests, glaring intensely……. Outside, our PS’s are pressing their eyes harder, trying to figure out where did all the banshee shrieking and screaming go…… And what is the source of those dull, muffled THUDS….. A mystery they shall uncover soon…..
Our fingers tighten more around each other, but there is no fighting there, just agreement… Just the need to hold on to one another’s sweaty palm as our bodies shift and adjust…. Scrambling to find the most comfortable and effective position for what is coming next……
Then….. I feel your thrusts… Four of them, each accentuated by a low hiss, as I groan, my head arching back, my toes curling…….. But I don’t respond in kind…….. I just… Take them, each one hitting me hard, deep to the core…. And I can’t deny the truth…
I want… to feel them……
My head turling, my eyes fixed on you again, I purse my lips, and… SPIT again, this time, aiming for your eyes….. Watching them flinch as your eyes open, your vision, no doubt blurry with the saliva clouding it….. It’s how I want you to see me… As if you’re drowning beneath me…. Sinking in an ocean, helplessly, as my voice comes back, deep, like it’s rising from a thunderous cloud miles away, filling your skies with a boom and your ears with terror….
“Yes.” My hip slamming down back on yours with a dull, bony THUD, as our pelvis’ collide.
“It.” Another savage slam, also lead with the corner of my hip, driving the edge of the bone just above your clit.
“Does.” A third, this time my hip flattening and slamming down, leading with my soft meaty cunt, the thong misadjusted, and you feel my fully exposed left labium smacking into yours.
The meaning of my words clear….. We could shred each other to bits….. Fight until we are wheeled off into ambulances and ER’s…. But it would prove little….. Much less than this….. embrace… This battle of wills and sexuality would….. Perhaps we will always hate each other, but at least…. It won’t be the hatred of the unknown….. For the pecking order will be well established then.
Carmen
Slowly sealing wounds and drying blood. Aching tits, burning, roots, and scratched cheeks. I can still feel all of it. All of what you did to me when we latched onto each other. Further I can see those same wounds on you. Bite marks, and long and crimson ravines. A few scattered bruises, left glimmering under another layer of sweat.
And though each of those is a sign of how willing we were to hurt one another — to maim one another, here on the carpeted floor of the changing room. Pressed body to body. Breast to breast and glaring into each others eyes, we have slowed, if not softened. Changed tactics, though we remain in the same war. Who is the top bitch? The better woman? The queen, the goddess, the ALPHA and the omega between we two.
Each of us taking turns to speak single words, while attacking the others pussy with our own. The resulting collisions coming with spreading of lips and meetings of clits, but with a force and ferocity that brings pain. A pain we can see in each others eyes in flashes and hear in near-inaudible whimpers.
My words telling you nothing has changed between us, while you respond that in fact, everhing has changed. We are both right. We are still fighting. Still struggling. Still desperate to come out on top. But now, in this new engagement, one of dripping kitten and fencing fleshy sabers, we skip passed foreplay and prologue, and move directly to the ultimate question — seeking the most necessary answer.
Who is lesser? And who is greater?
Not in a game of chess, where one wrong move can leave one of us on top. But instead by meeting each other headlong in a contest of wills, ways, and womanhoods. Womanhoods which begin to come together in long, grinding, drags. Once and then again. My body trembling with excitement, as with my hands in your hair, I lean in and hiss at you. “Till one of us–FUCK…” Mis challenge I exclaim in a curse before continuing. “…begs for this to….GASP…” Again as I try to speak the pleasure we inflict interrupts me. “stop, or passes out, cunt….”
Ewa
This doesn’t happen when you’re shooting a VOD…. Not when you’re hired to fight for 30 minutes beating the living shit of another girl, while trying to not get beat up as much…. The types of videos we do, while not scripted, mostly follow one or two formats… ‘Go in there, beat her up, no holding back’, which often leads to some 10 or 15 minutes of unabated violence, with the only restrictions being that we can only use our claws and teeth to maul one another…. The ‘premium’ kind of battles, to the most die hard fans, the kind that we have both excelled into….
And then, the more ‘controlled’ bit, where we are told to hold off for 20 minutes, fighting hard, but not really going WILD, and after 20 minutes, we let go, with already exhausted bodies and spent strength, which makes the fight go longer, be more of a spectacle, offering less crazed lengths and stretches to battle in…
But we have no body whispering in our ears or holding up cards with ‘Slow down’, ‘Let her up’, or ‘Go nuts!’ above our heads and out of view of the cameras… This is US… And we have gone from the first format into this… Embrace… Both badly hurt… Our corsets torn off and laying on the floor few feet away… Our pantyhoses shredded and ripped, bits still clinging to our flexed, spread, tangled legs… With our thongs misadjusted…. As only the moment of calm causing us both to realize… How much we WANT to lock pussies….. Was it your spit hitting my face??? Was it the moment of pause when I settled on top?? Was it the interlocking of fingers??? Was it the way that our stiff nipples burrowed deep in the titflesh???
We don’t know, and we don’t care….
All we know is that we want this…. We want to beat the other sexually, after thrashing her physically….
And with a deep GROAAANNNN you utter your interrupted words…. Panting and speaking my own mind back to me, as my legs curl more around yours, muscles flexed, panhoses ripping and laddering more, and I GRINNNDDD my sex down on yours, whispering in a raspy voice….
“Uugghhhhh….. Till…. one can’t take… any… FFFFUUUCKKK!!” My head rolls back feeling your clit suddenly force it’s way from the side of your thong, brushing up against my still covered head….. “MMOOOREEEE!!”
Tilting my head back down, I PRESS my mouth to yours…. Our teeth clacking as we both open them wide and we BITE each other’s mouth… Growling as I PUSHHH my hips down on yours and DRAGGGGG my clit up, causing my own panties to shift more, and my naked meaty head feels your own…. Raw and ribbed……. And as your jaw trembles from the motion, we relax the bites and our lips seal around each other, my tongue thrusting DEEP into your throat, flailing wildly like the Midgardian serpent on Ragnarok, with mayhem on it’s mind…..
My body tensing, and I crunch my abs a bit, letting my breasts drag downwards against yours, then I stretch my body, rubbing back up, and pushing your breasts higher along your chest, as we moan and writhe in our hateful FUCK….
Carmen
From unadulterated malice and unabridged violence, to a sudden stilling and stirring distrust, to … to … this. A moment where all those desires and emotions I thought to be untouchable in their entensity and indescribably in their power, now seem paltry. Less than and incomparable to this moment and my sudden hunger for you.
You are my competitor, my rival, my enemy, and yet as we try to speak to each other and fail. Lust breaking through our boasts and pleasure tearing through our challenges, I need them to be over. The talking. The distraction of all of it. So that I can focus on this — on you. Fucking you until you are unconsciousness. Fighting you with my pussy, fingers, and mouth until you are so drained of sexual prowess and energy that you plead with me to stop pleasuring you.
A desire for cessation that comes to a close, as we both finish our dares, and then come together in a hard hateful kiss. Our teeth clashing in a clatter in the torrid confines of our mouths. Biting at each other for a moment, until the strain of such a contest tests us. Drool dripping from our lips once more, as our jaws loosen, teeth pull back, and tongues surge into one another’s mouths.
Mouths that seal tight as the tips of our tongues glance past and then coil together. Dancing and then with pressure fighting over who’s mouth they shall play in. All while we fuck, Without pressure to move on to a new scene or another girl. Dueling with pussies not like pornstars paid to do so, but like women who had taken each other to the very pinnacle of hate, only to give in to the animal passions and primal competition at the core of our prideful struggle.
Ewa
The eye of the storm… It’s upon us… After the winds has ravaged our landscapes and bodies, opening more cuts in them than most women would tolerate before screaming for the other to stop…. Bruising on the long interlocked thighs and ground breasts… The moment of calm feels almost serene…. While still, with the corners of our eyes we spy the dark clouds surrounding us from every direction, knowing that sooner or later, they will pass over us, and bring us back to the onslaught…. And it’s in this moment that we both turn desperate, trying to finish this war, before that moment comes…. If we can….
The clenched teeth relax, my saliva drooling down on your mouth, as your pink muscle forces itself into my mouth sloshing around, slapping and whipping, trying to pin my tongue’s root, while my own tip prods and pushes at your muscle, sending them into a frothing twist, webbing our saliva around them, wrestling like two phons….
I feel your body flexing, your muscles straining, the pressure of your right hand rising as it lifts off the ground and your body lifts a bit off the side…. A reminder that this is still… a fight.. Nay… a WAR…. And I grimace, tightening my muscles and fighting back, our clenched fists shaking few inches above the ground….. Trembling with effort, until my clit finds yours, dragging and my breasts lift your own and I feel you wince….
And quickly I SLAM your hand down… Harder than needs to, but I do it with the needed authority… The one gifted to me by your momentary weakness, as my Polish body spreads wider on your American form, trying to show my dominance….. My legs spreading wider, pulling yours apart more, the panhoses shrieking in a low hiss, stretching and ripping more, the thongs pulled aside completely…. My labia gnashing on yours, kegels tightening as I capture your right petal between mine and hold it in a tight strangle, rubbing it up and down, stretching it away from it’s twin, spreading your love nest, for the steady stream of my own nectar seeping against it…
Entering you…. Turning your womanhood into my own cauldron, to mix our juices into our witch’s brew….
My breasts, continuing their pressure and ascent…. Stretching your pair to their limits… My hard nipples poking at the stretched under skin, the tops of your pillowy breasts cradling our chins…… The corners of my lips curl, and I rut my hips harder, faster, in a subtle motion, tugging on your labia, and grinding your wrists into the floor….. My toes curling, jabbing into the gaps of your pantyhose above your feet, then I flex them, slowly, sexily, riiiiipppping the covering above your feet…. Letting you feel them stripping, and exposing you… The same way I am exposing your body to mine….. As the lesser woman….
Carmen
I am so powerful. So confident. So strong. And yet since the moment you pinned me down to my back, you have been in firm and undeniable control. Your body and breasts keeping me beneath you, as you seduced me with your passion. Your sensuality. Your beauty. Making me retire my claws. Hang up my hairpulling. And meet you on the battlefield of your choice.
Was it all a trap? A perfectly guided strike meant to take away my greatest strength? The ability to rip and claw — bite and tear. It is a thought that does not enter my mind before I look to rise up and turn us. A fear that I do not even contemplate, until after my distracted tit-caused dalliance told you of my intent to make us roll.
But when you slam my arms back down to the ground, and widen your stance atop me, that I understand. As you kiss me. As you fuck me like a goddess. As you drag and drop your tits atop mine in just the perfect way to keep me lost in an ocean of lust, that it all becomes clear. I need to act now, or give in. Fight back, and take some semblance of control, or melt beneath you and accept the consequences. The latter half of both options not even a thought in my mind, even though you stretch my breasts upward, to the point where the soft, delicate flesh beneath feels like it might tear.
My fire rising and focus returning, even as your pussy lips collapse around one of mine, and then the other, weakening both and keeping them open, before you shift and then catch my clit in the same labial trap. A feeling unlike any I have ever experienced before. One that makes me moan out like a whore into our kiss, just as I plant my feet, and fight to bridge. Straining to lift my arms off the carpeted floor and into the air, to get you off me, so I can mount you and then reengage. Still confident in my body, breasts, and womanhood, but knowing that as bottom bitch, I will end up the same.
Ewa
It might look like it’s easy… That I’m having a walk in the park keeping you down… If our two attendants were to open the door and peek in, they might think that the struggle is over…. That I’ve already won, and now, I’m just putting the icying on the cake, beating my vanquished foe, fucking her like a slut…. Like a weakling, who got destroyed, and is now, getting her womanhood violated in the most sexual and outright affirmative way…..
But they would be wrong…. Nothing of this, is coming free of charge…. None of it… Not the fact that I’m on top, nor is it keeping you down… A task, that every muscle fiber in me is strained to the extreme, to achieve….. While my tongue and yours loll around the other, while our pussies grind and squish against each other like two ripe peaches, smearing each other with their nectars….
I feel your body tensing again and I brace for it…. Your buttocks clenching, and they lift off the ground… Pushing inches off the carpet, lifting me up as we struggle and strain, my labia losing their grip on yours…. But I roll my hips back and HAMMER them down, driving my pussy into yours in a PUNISHING slam, that causes our kiss to break, as we both GASP and your ass crashes to the carpet again…. Groaning…. Our heads arch back, teeth clenched…. And you remind me, that you are not beat… Far from it… As you strain and lift again, bridging up…… And I try to counter, by keeping our legs spread wide, by keeping your hands down…. But your left shoulder lifts up and you PUSH against my unsuspecting right arm and suddenly we topple to our sides….. With a dismayed gasp coming from my lips….
Laying on our sides I immediately unlock my right leg off yours and stretch my leg behind you, my toes reaching for the furthest point they can find on the carpet….. Trying to anchor us and stop you from completing the roll, your own left leg doing the same, pushing up between mine and trying to gain the momentum needed….
My right hand releases your hand and makes a grab for your hair, pulling it straight down, my right tit GRINDING into your left, scratching burning, the mounds compressing as our other arms stretch above our heads along the floor…. Our teary eyes meeting….
“No…. Uggghh… You… Won’t…” — I hiss at you with a fiery glare, tugging hard on your hair, and pushing my face just under your chin, wrapping my lips around your neck, sucking on the skin and biting on it lightly, trying to give you a violent love bite of the highest order, while my hips GRINNNNDDD back into yours, clits jammed so hard, they begin to bend painfully and sensually, trying to put you on your back once more….
Carmen
I search for it. Find it. Muster it. And then after taking a deep, heavy drag of air, as we continue to kiss, not wanting to alert you to my plan, I suddenly SURGE into you. Bridging on both legs, and pressing up as hard as I possibly can.
Knowing that with every second that passes I grow weaker. Knowing that I have already given you too much time on top, and that I am already lost in you — in this. My rival’s body. My rival’s eyes. Her pussy and tits.
Fuck! Is it too late? No! No, I have to get you off of me. I need to roll us, and then settle in. To fuck you into oblivion and then make you lick clean the very pussy you dared challenged.And so I fight. Straining with everhing I have, as you and I keep to our kiss. Our tongues stilling and separating as we focus elsewhere. Me on lifting you off the ground, and you on trying to keep me there. Our noses pulling and breath and then expelling it hot, in rapid, desperate drags.
Our kiss finally breaking as you lift your body and then slam down upon mine. Again and again, until finally I collapse back to the carpet. And though you might think I am finished in my efforts to escape, I once again drive upward. This time on my left side. My hand on that side lifting, planting, and then shoving your shoulder as you gasp. All of which occurs as I bridge, again, this time on my left side only, pushing my body and tits into yours. My intent is to roll us, and pin you, but you fight back with all you’ve got, and so halfway — when we are on our sides. We reach a stalemate. Your right leg raising and wrapping around my topside thigh as you try to shove me back. Telling me how I won’t be successful, just as I growl back “yes, biiiiiIIIIIIIIIittch… I have to….”
With those broken, breathless words exchanged we suffer, each pressing into each other with so much strength and desperation that we together burst into tears. A sight of weakness we share, as we lock eyes. Neither of us sure or certain — confident or cooing. Instead we both fear what will happen next. What fate follows the one who breaks.
And though I put all of my focus and fire into forcing your body over, you continue to focus on pleasing me. Your pussy grinding into mine, even as you yank my hard back and towards the ground. Your eyes shifting away from our conveying gaze, so that you can move your lips to my neck and bite. Not painfully, but instead to turn me on.
An added sprinkle to the good work your pussy has already done to mine. The orgasm that had slowly built as you kept yourself atop me, not ebbing but continuing to near as you keep up your onslaught. Your hips picking up speed and hitting with precision, as my strong push begins to weaken. Your lips moving from their gentle suck and teething to my ear so I can hear you moan in pleasure while I start to fade.
Fade and whimper. Whimper and shake. Shake and then cuuuummmm hard as I collapse back to the carpeted floor with you atop me. “NNNNNNOOOO UUUUNNNNNGGGGGHHHHH FFFUUUUCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!!!!!”
Ewa
We fight with everhing we have…. We battled like animals… Then… like women… Like BITCHES IN HEAT…. And in the midst of the struggle on our sides, our eyes meet, I see the fire in your eyes and you glare at the inferno iun my own… We both know what we’re teetering on the edge of…. Mayhem….. Growling and seething, tits trapping one another, nipples gouging into flesh, pussies mashes and rubbing the other like two erasers determined to DELETE the other… Our bodies KNOTTED in a struggle of muscle and wills, that could very well spill back to the carnage we were in… In what we do best…. Hope and despair mixing as we snarl and screech… And you cry at me that you HAVE to….
But this is not a fair fight… This is not a fair battle.. And my desire to conquer you… To avert the seemingly unavoidable turn back to tooth and claw, guides my hand to pull on your hair, and my lips to your neck, suckling and gnawing…. I THRUST into you hard and you HOWL, a cry that betrays you to the core… A meowl that is marked a traitor to every cell of your body and thread of willpower that has brought you to the doorsteps of toppling me, and getting on top….. And I STRAINNN, growling as my teeth nip at your neck and my lips suckle, as you FLOP to your back….
Outside the room, our attendants continue to press to the door, shuffling as they try to get a better hearing, one of their elbows pressing on the doorhandle and it tilts, sending the door open and they stumble in, eyes wide, terror in their eyes, but…. Neither of us even hear or notice them, LOST in our battle… They stare at our writhing bodies, at the thousands of dollars worth of shredded lingerie, as the sweaty glistening on my bottocks peeking through the torn pantyhose, and the string of girl-juice stretching between our spread cunts as I roll on top….. They don’t even look at each other, each reaching for her phone, pulling it up…. And turning on the recording…. Each stepping to one side, standing at max distance, to remain out of sight, capturing the sight of our ravaged bodies, of the cuts and scratches and bruises, as we writhe and struggle….
But it’s a different kind…. It’s the battle of our cunts that make it all count, as we thrash and growl…. My head lifting off your neck, staring at the dark blue bruise I left there… My left hand returning to pin your right down; while my right hand pushes on your chin, my palm spreading over your lips, smearing your lipstick and traces of blood over your face as my fingers spread over your features like a black widow spider ready to devour it’s prey….
My eyes glare at yours and I see it there, the despair… The weakness…. The gaze of a beaten woman… The denial of the inevitable as your body thrashes and I hiss at you….
“You….. lose….. I’m…. The… Better… Woman….” — My voice dripping with dominance and rage, cruelty as I push my pussy on yours and dragggggggggggg it up, my breasts dominating yours, spreading them outwards… I know what to come….
And I feel it… The violent.. GUSH… The explosion of your cum spreading across my thighs and splashing against my own lips, slowly falling down to the carpet and expanding in a little puddle…. And your eyes roll back weakly……. My own head rolling back and I HOOWWWL a long, throatful;
“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS”
Carmen
I push so hard. I try so desperately. Imagining a world where I can complete this one effort, push you to your back and then fuck you. Fuck you until you cum for me. Fuck you until you until those tears of effort and passion become those of complete and utter sexual oblivion.
Try though I do, your focus is deadly accurate. Never losing track of what we’re fighting for. Spending every possible moment you can spare working me towards orgasm. Using your body, your beauty, your breasts, and my own primal desire to fuck you against me.
All of which leads, even in the very height of my rebellion against your position atop me, to cum. My beaten pussy lips letting loose a flow of liquid that your dominant, victorious cunt pulls in through a series of muscle contractions. Claiming my essence for your own as it leaves my body, along with my fire, my strength, my pride, and my vigor.
My once proud and defiant eyes softening as you look down at me like the conquering goddess you are. Everhing about my demeanor and expression telling you I am broken. I am defeated. That I have been bested by the better woman. A sight that pushes you into orgasm, as you ride me. Your steaming hot and wet kitten releasing its own stream of juice as you celebrate.
My pussy daring to try to do as yours did. To capture and drink at the flavor of its better, but it is too weak. Too defeated to catch even a single drip. Leaving it to seize once again in failure, as beneath you I turn my head, not wanting to look you in the eyes, as I cry.
Ewa
The cries go rampant again, echoing off the walls, echoing so loudly in the ears of our now present audience…… Hands shaking holding their cameras, panning over our wrecked forms…. Biting their lips as their own panties get damper…. Staring at what a struggle, a war between two REAL woman can be like… How it ends… Devastating… Total… Final…. And hating their weakness that their weak minds and will could never let them feel such a rush……
But at least, they know they will be fingering themselves endlessly for countless nights, pulling out the videos to rewatch the bit they caught…
They eyes go up, and they look at each other, and their weak gazes slowly harden….. Remembering their own differences and disputes…. A look, that weeks from now… Will bring them together… To try their hands, at what they have seen here, perfected…. Against another of their level….
But on the floor, as you pant and gush… As your body trembles and your eyes go hazy… I continue.. I don’t stop…. I keep OPPRESSING you… Crushing your body… Bullying your tits with mine, and smearing the cum you squirted on my cunt back on yours…..
“Remember this… Carmen….” — My voice is broken, raspy, shaken… My legs trembling, but I will them to untangle off yours….. My hips pressing harder on yours, my breasts lifting… My right hand PUSHING my weight on your face, hearing you groan weakly….. But you have neither the strength, nor will to stop what’s to come…
“….. Remember how it felt….. To know…. That I’m better than you….. As for my taste… I know you will… never… forget it….” — My voice shaking with arousal… You might have finished, but I did not…. And slowly I shimmy my body up on yours… Your arms reach up trying to fight me off but I slap them away, then pin them under my shins as I straddle your chest, and grab your hair with both hands…. You stare at the torn nylons and displaced thong… At the glistening of slut cocktail smaering my cunt and I PULL your face between my legs and close my thighs around you, my eyes shutting as I force your lips into my superior sex…
Carmen
Just leave me here, is what I pray you do. Just get up, taunt me, and let me recover. Let me pick up my tattered clothing, get dressed in the outfit I came in wearing, and let me crawl home to my apartment to recover. To lick my wounds and forget what happened here.
But I would never give you such an out. Even if you begged for it. Even if you promised to pay for my torn lingerie and leave our profession forever. No, I would punish you. Carve my name into your chest with my nails, and make you live between my thighs from this day on.
Thoughts of what could have been, and may one day be, that run through my mind as you stay atop me. Taking your time to enjoy the way my weak, defeated body gives in to yours in every conceivable way. The nipples at the center of my tits softening, from their seemingly unending rigidity. My pussy seeming to hide from yours and every contact that it once sought, though you chase after it and smear our juices on my mound, lips, and spasming, shrunken clit.
But when all of that has been forever etched in your memory, you lift your body, crawl forward, sit on my chest, and then wait. Letting me look up with teary eyes to your beautiful face, framed by sweaty tits that heave in triumph as you glare at me. Reaching slowly for my hair, letting your fingers take a root-deep grasp of it, before you slowly pull my face forward into your sex.
My own lips, as they approach yours opening so I can beg you. “No, please, Ewa. Nooooo….” Quacking my prayers for mercy come out, as I grovel. Knowing this moment — this humiliation will stain my soul for the rest of my life.
Despite those pathetic pleas, you pull me in. Face-first and so deep, I cannot breathe, save for those spare breaths I can find within the pussy than conquered my own. Your essence seeping into my nose and mouth, though I do not yet please you.
The End.