Red Hot Scarlet vs. Miranda (anonymous) from FCF
Warning: Unfinished But Hot
Red Hot Scarlet Preamble:
So, this one starts a little abruptly and we didn’t quite get it finished, but still: HOT.
“I want to say this before I rip all the hair your trashy blonde from your scalp. Thank you for coming. It’s not every day I meet someone who is in such a hurry to get their ass beaten.” I say with a confident smirk, watching your face intently for whatever reaction you might muster.
Miranda – Anonymous
Standing in front of you, my 5’3 125lbs body dressed in a slinky white dress, cut low, my 36Cs pushing out. Black thigh high stockings run up my legs, hooked into a matching garter belt, black heels giving me an extra few inches…eyes locked into you, smirking wickedly…”Oh, a confident little redhead huh? I am going to absolutely ruin you.”
With every every word out of your pretty little mouth I feel my blood boil another degree. “Mmmm hmmm, is that the pipe dream that brought you here, slut?” My words show not only my disdain for you, but how easily I brush aside your own confidence.
“Let’s see it then!” As the word ‘then’ leaves my mouth with speed, I match my 5’6″, 124 lbs, 30B body towards you, just before reaching out and grabbing a large handful of half-died blonde hair.
You step up and I do the same, our heels clicking as we reach our hands out for each other’s hair…”You BITCH…” hissing into your face as I grab a handful of red hair with my right hand, my left hand swinging down, throwing a slap at the pale skin of your thigh just below the hem of your dress…
“CUNT!” I cry back at you as we tug harshly at each other’s hair. OWE!! You’re pull is strong and anger-fueled, but it’s fury only leads me to increase my own. As we escalate, your slap lands. It is not as hard as it is stinging. Not as meant to wound but welt. It a blow I return; mine aimed at your irritating impressive cleavage.
“Ummpfhh!” Grunting out as we step together, our necks pulled down in opposite directions as we pull roughly on each other’s hair, our heels clicking wildly as we circle in place in front of the bed…your palm smacks flush against my the bare skin of my cleavage, chest bouncing…
“You fucking SLUT, FUCK you!!!” Yelling into your face, reaching my left hand up and grabbing another handful of red hair near your roots, shaking your head left and right now, the room filled with the sounds of our fight, the grunting, breathing, cursing, the SMACK of palm hitting bare skin…
It must be a glorious sight. My thin but well-proportioned frame, bent over in my bright white dress. My red heels, lifting and clacking down on the hardwood floor, just below black thigh highs connected by garter belts to white panties that match my bra.
But such have you earned by using two hands to control my fire red hair. In your offense, abandoning your defense, leaving me free to reach out, up, and claw down your pretty face, all while you struggle to throw me to the ground, or whatever it is you aim to do with my locks.
I love the feeling of control as I get a good grip on your hair, pulling you left and right, hearing you cry out in pain, getting a good look at your sexy body as you struggle and squirm…but suddenly, you reach up and set your claws to work, bringing them down my soft cheeks, leaving bold red lines, causing me to cry out in pain and surprise…
“Ahhhahhhh, bitch!!” Stepping back, I try and pull roughly to my right, twisting my hips into it, trying to rag doll you onto the mattress…
“AAARARrarrGggHHhH!” I scream in pain as your hair pulling’s violence increases. I had thought you would reach for my wrist to stop my claws but you didn’t, instead you committed fully to sending me onto the mattress.
And in that same surety of plan, I quickly bring my clawing hand back to your face, and drive my nails in, knowing that when you throw me successfully, which yo then do, my fingernails will again make you suffer. A knowledge I hope to be true, as my flies over to the mattress, your hands still buried deep in my hair.
Your screams fill the room as I drag you onto the mattress by your fiery red hair, but my own quickly join the chorus as I feel your nails drag down my face as I let go of your hair and you tumble down onto the mattress, bold red lines forming, bright on my cheeks, makeup under your nails…”You fucking WHORE!” I scream, flipping my hair back dramatically as you roll onto the mattress, my eyes wide, face red and marked, strands of red hair in my fingers…
Each of us wounded. Each of us successful in our attack. We pause for a moment, gathering ourselves and resetting our expectations of the other.
“FUCK YOU!” Though it doesn’t last long.
“I’ll DESTROY YOU CUNT!” I make oath as I dive from my knees at you, not aiming to tackle you to the bed, but just to reengage. Just to be in our struggle again. Lost in my rage over all that has happened so far, though we have only just begun.
After just a moments separation we both go right back after each other, and you pounce up from your knees, my left hand reaching up for a handful of soft red hair, trying to swing my right arm around and land a sharp SMACK against your made up cheek, standing at the edge of the bed, our chests coming together, the fabric of our dresses hissing, our faces inches apart, perfumes mingling, eyes locked together in a mix of rage and lust…
We had not spent weeks texting insults to each other. I had not written about you in my journal, nor drawn you with your eyes scratched out with the pen. And yet this moment, as our bodies press together, I reach into your hair with a hand and yank.
And yet even as I pull, I send a slap hard across your face, I am absolutely obsessed with you. In every
We trade stiff slaps across the face, and my cheeks are absolutely on fire, my scalp burning again, doing my best to twist my hand into your hair with my left hand, determined to hurt you, humiliate you, absolutely RUIN you, if only so I can have you begging me to use you…we know we’re here for the exact same reasons, absolutely perfectly matched, and it’s brought out the absolute bitchiest in us…after you return my slap, I move to my left a step, extending my arm to keep a hold of your hair, sliding my left knee up onto the bed, heels still on, determined to get closer, to kick this red haired sluts ass…
In a perfect of hate and desire, I bring my own red heeled leg up from its knelt position. It is instinct, more than plan, somewhere in a subconscious there being a deep seeded need for our lower halves to clash, even as our erect nipples stab at each other through our dresses.
“Such a fucking bitch!” I say in a frustrated and outraged voice; just before I add: “Come here!” A comment made before I pull your face back to mine, angle to the side, and then with my tongue, lick the blood of your face; it being mine to claim after all.
Your leg rises up and my body brushes against your stocking-covered leg, coming together on the bed to do battle, our hard nipples pushing through our dresses…”You fucking WHORE…” growling, my eyes narrowed in hate as you lick the thin trickle of blood you drew from my cheek with your nails…I finally drop your hair, and grab your dress with both hands, sliding my fingers in, pulling down roughly, dragging my nails down your pale skin, your hot breath against my cheek, feeling your wet tongue, seeing your firm breasts come free…yet.
Not wanting to fall even a step behind you, i lean into you, pressing my forehead to yours to brace myself.
Once done, I grab the straps of your sickeningly well-chosen dress, and then rip them down, causing loud, obvious ripping sounds with my force. I hope it irritates you. I hope you love this fucking dress.
And as I cling to such cruel hopes, I keep tugging until I free your tits in the same way you freed mine. I … I … then…. No plan. I should have one. But I’m distracted. If only for a moment as I hear the sound of your effort. Feel your hot breath mixing with mine between us. And then see our tits only centimeters apart. Will you be so affected? Or have I left my self open to whatever attack you have in store next.
Our sweaty foreheads come together as we both set to violently destroying the carefully chosen dresses we slid into, the sound of ripping fabric loud in the room…our dresses still cling to our hips, but our breasts sway freely, eyes tracing up and down you, finally meeting yours again…breathing deeply now, almost panting, I snarl as I reach back up for your hair with both hands, pulling down to my left, trying to drag you down to the mattress by your fucking hair, my 36Cs bouncing, my dress riding up to my waist, my black garters completely uncovered now, heels still on…
It is not fatigue of the body but the mind that led me to fall prey to your quick grab and turn. Grabbing my hair, and in a single quick turn, you slam be down to the bed beneath you. Somewhere in the fall, my dress is pulled up from my knees, leaving it as almost a sash around my stomach, my panties, thigh highs, and garters fully exposed.
The skin of my thighs pressing to yours. But on
No, instead I watch your eyes which hover just above mine. To see … your reaction … when I suddenly kick my legs up and wrap them around your abdomen, squeezing tightly as I try to lock my ankles behind your back.
I grunt with effort as I force you to the mattress, my body pressing down into yours, our bare breasts together, hard nipples battling, our dresses barely covering anything now, tight against our hips but revealing our chests and legs, delicate stockings and garter belts sliding together…my hands still in your hair, our faces an inch apart, my wing tipped eyes locked into yours, makeup smearing a little…
“You dirty fucking whore, I fucking hate you…” but my eyes widen a little as I feel your thighs slide up and around my waist, the stockings smooth against my bare skin, your heels extending back as you lock your ankles and start squeezing…
“Oh, you bitch!” I yell, arching my head back, my hair draping down onto your face…I let go of your hair, pressing my
My ankles lock and I get to see every incredible second of your eyes filling with fear. The glorious and beautiful sight is enough to distract me from the quickening speed at which our uncovered bodies find new ways to war; each a distraction from our purpose of destroying each other.
A purpose you return as you press my face into the bed, and slowly start to claw at my face. Payback is a bitch; a bitch that causes me
But apart from the scream, the claw, and the resulting arching, cause me to increase the pressure of my leg scissors almost without intention, as every muscle in my body tenses in pain. Before you can scratch again, I send my hands out to find yours, looking to lace fingers with
I press your face into the mattress with all my strength, working my claw, just trying to hurt you, your lovely screams and moans muffled into the comforter, but I arch my back in pain as you instinctively flex and really work your legs, your ankles locked, and you find my right hand and our slender fingers lock together, but I slap and push against your right hand with my left and keep it free, allowing me to SLAP my left hand down against the inside of your thigh, above your stockings, just below your garter belt, and instead of pulling it back, I dig my claws in and twissssst, trying to get your sexy legs off of me, squirming in pain…
I want to hold you between my thighs until you submit — until you beg me to release you. Squeeze every single last drop of resistance out of you, and then make you MINE! But as your fingernails dig into the inside of my thigh, I shriek and release you, my legs unclamping, and in the process, you are set free. At the realization and release, I move to sit up, but find your body above mine, your breasts keeping me pushed down into the bed, with no where to go.
I finally claw my way free of your leggy grasp, gasping in relief as your legs come down, heels hitting the mattress, long legs laid out…with my right hand still locked with yours, our nails scratching at the top of the others hand…looking down into your eyes with venom, I slide my knees up and start working to try and straddle you, reaching my left hand up from your thigh to grab at your panties, yanking up sharply, pulling left and right…”You like this, you little WHORE?!!” Panting above you, sweat forming across our bodies as we fight ferociously, like only real women can…
Dread fills me as you start to slide up my body. No! She’s going to straddle me! And with the blankets and pillows at my back, and your bodyweight pressing down, I could quickly be caught not only beneath you, but smothered out.
But then you stop and grab at my panties. Tugging at them. Shifting them back and forth, taunting me. Then you ask me if I like it. And I do. Not only because the cloth of them rubs at my clit, and not because it is you my hated rival who causes such sensations, but also because, despite the pain, you have been distracted from mounting me.
A fact I seize on as yank out finger-locked hands right and then slam my free hand into your face with a vicious slap. One that echoes through out the hotel room. One strong enough, I hope to knock you off of me, and to the side.
I start to make my way on top of your body, feeling your warm waist underneath me, a knee on either side of you, heels pointed back…but I make a mistake, taking a moment to try and taunt and humiliate you, pulling your panties up, sliding them up and down against your clit, knowing I’m exciting you even as I bare down on top of you…but before I can even register you freeing your hand from mine, the SLAP rocks across my cheek, and I let out a sharp cry as I fall to the the bed, hair flying out across my face, groaning, rubbing my cheek with my right hand, a tiny trickle of blood running from my lip…
“You goddamn CUNT, FUCK!!!” Screaming in frustration, rocked from your bitchslap…yet
As you fall off to my side, I waste not a second before I’m after you. Chasing you as you roll, and diving just as you stop.
But in it I miscalculated, as there was not enough bed to hold us. And so when I land on your back, you fall forward, and then we two half-undressed rivals fall. Landing hard and separated from each other on the hard hotel room floor. From the impact, exhaustion, and all else, I lay on the ground resting. Breathing.
In fact gasping for air. This has been the most intense fight of my life, and the most intense and exciting moments of the same. Such thoughts I try to suppress, as I remain. Hoping you need a moment just the same.
You charge after me as I fall to the bed holding my face, and I yell out in surprise, struggling with you, throwing my weight into you, trying to keep you off of me, completely oblivious to the edge of the bed until there’s no longer a mattress underneath me, and we fall to the hard floor in a heap, chests bouncing, the remains of our dresses tight around our hips like gypsy sashes, rolling apart, our heels still strapped on…
I lay on my right hip, keeping an eye on you as I suck in air, my face red and scratched, hair a matted mess, blonde and red strands strewn across the bed and floor, in pain, exhausted, and completely turned on and invigorated at the same time, still furious at the red headed bitch that lies a mere couple of feet in front of me…