Safiyah Neferet vs. Aspasia El-Shenawy - Dance of the Serpents

[BlackAkuma]

The match had started on a friendly note, as Asp’s bouts often did. While she was a wrestler, she tried her best to avoid the sort of aggressiveness that usually came with this sport, and - with the exception of Naga - she had been successful in that endeavor thus far. For someone who’d been doing this for a good while, she had little in the way of rivals and many friends, a track record she was happy with.

She had thought much the same of Safiyah at the start, but as the woman made her way into the ring, she sensed a shift in that notion. There was something about how her foe moved, that look in her mismatched eyes, that spoke of a fire burning underneath. Was it the taunt? She had thrown it out in good spirts, feeling it wasn’t any stinging than the barbs Safiyah had thrown her way before, but it was hard to be sure. Some people took their own medicine better than others.

There was some malice in the woman’s voice when spoke this time, and Asp didn’t miss that her reply was made in English, no longer giving her the courtesy of conversing in their native tongue. She was tempted to ask if Safiyah had been offended and even apologize if it was necessary, but she wasn’t given the chance before the two of them met up again.

Or so she thought. It seemed as if Safiyah was willing to engage, until the woman ducked down and forward, her body moving into a familiar position. The way her leg was curling, her body’s position - Asp recognized it straightway as a move she used, the Scorpion Kick, and that recognition might have been the only thing that allowed her arms to rise in time to block it.

Smacked against her forearms and made her wince, but that was a small price to pay over having it hit her face. As Safiyah brought her leg back, Asp reached and seized her head, pulling it tight under shoulder with a facelock. With her secure, she stood on one leg and brought her other foot up to smack Safiyah in the face, before releasing her and shoving her away.

[Lightman]

The match had begun as a playful exchange, a clash of skill and grace wrapped in mutual respect. Safiyah had entered the ring, seeing in Asp a kindred spirit—a fellow dancer, a fellow warrior who understood the artistry of movement. But now, that perception was shifting.

The moment she stepped back into the ring, she could feel something simmering beneath the surface. Asp’s laughter, light and teasing, still echoed in her ears, and though she told herself it was nothing, that it had not touched her pride, the fire in her chest told a different story.

Had the taunt struck deeper than she had thought? Perhaps. But it was not merely the words. It was the game being played between them, the dance of control. Safiyah had fallen—briefly, but undeniably—and that had altered the dynamic. Now, she had something to reclaim. Her reply came in English this time, a subtle but deliberate shift. No longer the intimacy of their native tongue, but a universal challenge spoken in a language understood by all. She did not let herself dwell on why she made that choice. What mattered now was movement, action, reasserting herself in the rhythm of the fight.

The Azure Cobra stepped in, feinting a grapple, but her true intention lay in the sudden twist of her hips, the sharp flick of her leg. A Scorpion Kick—ironically, one of Asp’s own tricks turned against her. The thought of seeing surprise flicker in those sharp eyes thrilled her, but it was fleeting. Asp reacted faster than expected, her arms rising in time to absorb the impact. The sound of colliding flesh cracked through the air, but the intended impact was lessened.

The momentary frustration barely had time to settle before Safiyah felt hands seizing her, pulling her in close. A sudden, controlled shift caught her before she could resist. The pressure of a tight facelock, the firm grip locking her in place—it was enough to make her muscles tense, instinct screaming at her to counter.

But the next strike came too fast. A foot shot up, striking her square in the face. Pain blossomed, sharp and immediate, as her head snapped back. Her vision blurred at the edges, a white-hot shock running through her skull as her body staggered, thrown off balance. The impact had not been enough to take her down completely, but it was enough to leave her dazed, a second of vulnerability carved into the unrelenting flow of battle.

The crowd’s reaction surged around them, but Safiyah barely heard it. At that moment, there was only the ringing in her ears, the dull throb where the kick had landed, and the realisation that for the first time in this match—she had been caught in the serpent’s coils.

[BlackAkuma]

To Safiyah’s credit, there was nothing wrong with her attempt, in and of itself. It was brilliantly executed, and Asp suspected it would have caught many wrestlers totally off guard, as they weren’t used to defending from such obscene angles. But their similar styles meant that there was little either of them could do to catch the other wholly off guard, which made this a thrilling exercise. It was the perfect chance to hone her abilities, see and improve her flaws.

She only hoped Safiyah saw it the same way.

An intriguing question, but one for another time. Now, she was focused on making the most of the situation she had created as she snagged Safiyah’s head and kept her in place with a simple hold. The move could’ve been easily countered, hence Asp’s haste in following it up - the foot slap would do little damage, but it accomplished what it needed, stunning Safiyah for a precious moment.

As Asp released the woman, she was gifted with the perfect opportunity: a staggering, delirious foe. That wouldn’t last more than a few seconds, but that was all the time she needed to capitalize. She rushed in with open arms, wrapped them around her foe’s chest, and went for…

…a kiss. Soft. Supple. Asp embraced her like a lover, holding her tight and letting their bodies mesh against each other. Her thigh slid forward to rub against the woman’s pussy, while her hands roamed around her back, one of them stroking her shoulders while the other took a tender handful of the woman’s magnificent ass. The crowd voiced their approval, hoots and hollers, as the skin sizzled and the breath mingled.

A hot moment. But only a moment. When it passed, Asp brought her arms to the small of Safiyah’s back, lifted her up, spun her about, and attempted to bring her crashing to the mat with a belly-to-belly suplex. Not her specialty, and it wouldn’t have all that much power even if she pulled it off, but damage wasn’t the point. No, the objective was to get on top.

[Lightman]

Safiyah was still reeling, the ringing in her ears dulling the sounds of the crowd as she struggled to centre herself. The kick had left her disoriented, the sharp sting lingering as a throbbing heat across her face. She had known this match would be a test, but this moment forced her to acknowledge how perfectly they mirrored each other—how one mistake, one miscalculation, could turn the tide. And Asp had done just that.

Through the haze of her stunned state, she barely registered the rush of movement before warmth enveloped her. Soft lips pressed against hers, tender and slow, an intimate contrast to the battle they waged. Her breath hitched, her body momentarily betraying her as she felt the smooth slide of Asp’s thigh pressing between her legs, the teasing brush of fingertips exploring the contours of her back. A calculated move, designed to pull her deeper into the moment—to break her focus, to keep her stunned in a way that no strike ever could.

The crowd roared in approval, a symphony of hoots and cheers, but Safiyah hardly heard them. All she could feel was the heat of Asp’s body, the subtle shift in the woman’s grip, the press of their bodies against one another. It wasn’t just the physicality of it—it was the psychological game, the way Asp wielded intimacy as both a weapon and a shield. It was a seduction of the senses, a calculated lull before the storm.

And then the world spun.

Before she could fully process what was happening, Asp’s arms tightened around her waist, locking her in place as her feet left the mat. The sensation of weightlessness lasted only a heartbeat before the impact came, her back slamming against the canvas with a sharp, unforgiving force. The breath fled from her lungs in a gasp, pain blooming along her spine as she lay momentarily dazed, her limbs sprawled as her mind fought to catch up. It was disorienting, not just the landing, but the shift in control, the abrupt way in which the moment of shared intimacy had been transformed into raw dominance.

The suplex hadn’t been the most devastating move, but it didn’t need to be. Asp hadn’t executed it for sheer power—she had executed it for positioning, for control. Every inch of Safiyah’s body protested as she lay there, the dull ache spreading from her back, radiating outwards, leaving her momentarily vulnerable. Her mismatched eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in shallow, uneven pulls as the realisation dawned on her.

Asp caught her. For all her agility, for all her precision, she had played into the Water Serpent’s hands. The moment had been stolen from her, the shift in momentum undeniable. She could hear the buzz of the crowd now, their voices a chaotic blend of exhilaration and intrigue, but their reactions were secondary to the sharp pulse of frustration blooming in her chest.

Safiyah’s fingers curled against the canvas, her mind already scrambling for her next move. She couldn’t allow this moment to extend, couldn’t afford to stay stunned for too long. Every second she remained still was another second Asp could use to tighten her control. She had to recover, had to reset, had to reclaim her footing before Asp could fully capitalise on her advantage.

But right now, her body wasn’t cooperating. Her muscles ached, her breath was ragged, and the world still felt like it was tilting beneath her. She blinked hard, willing her senses to sharpen, to cut through the lingering haze. The battle was far from over, but at this moment, Safiyah was undeniably on the defensive.

[BlackAkuma]

Asp’s amorous assault wasn’t meant to deceive - at least, that was far from the only reason. The major purpose wasn’t even to play with her foe’s emotions, though that was an important role. With the onus on her to drive Safiyah to an orgasm, she needed to make sure that every move she made affected her foe in some sensual way, that it all played together for the overall goal. In this, Asp was uniquely suited for hentai matches in ways that many wrestlers were not, as she had spent no small amount of her life learning what it took to arouse people through song and dance. Seduction had been her weapon to wield long before she stepped into the ring.

But, more than anything, Asp wanted to feel Safiyah. To touch her. To taste her. It would be no understatement to say that she was the most beautiful woman she had shared a ring with, and she was up against staunch competition. Her eyes were achingly haunted, her physique was divine, and her skin called out to Asp, begging to be caressed - she could only deny it for so long.

She wanted to have her, and so she did. A little trickery, a little strength, and she had her rival down on the mats, helpless. For the time being, at least.

Asp laid atop her foe after the suplex, hands on her shoulders to and legs astride her waist to pin her down, though she doubted it was wholly necessary. The crash looked to have taken the wind out of her, and she wasn’t moving much. All the same, she knew how dangerous this woman was, that her fangs were still lethal. She would be careful, but not too careful.

As Safiyah lay there, Asp reached up to pin one of her wrists to the mat, while the ran along the contours of her body, sliding across her skin, until it chanced upon a wonderful breast that demanded its attention. Her teasing fingers pressed into it, gentle at first, then harder and harder still, gripping it deeply, wantonly possessively.

Asp slid up the woman’s body for better leverage, looming over her fallen foe, and her calf came down between her legs to rub against her mound, pushing her along with some light simulation. It would be nothing compared to what she had in mind for later, but a good place to start.

[”Just lie back, love. Let it happen.”] Her heated, whispered words barely came through the crowd’s cheers. [”Let me take you to heaven.”]