Safiyah Neferet vs. Cleo Hulbury - Model Behaviour

[Lightman]

Safiyah’s breaths came in shallow gasps, her body trembling under Cleo’s relentless control. Every taunt, every mocking touch, chipped away at her composure, forcing her to endure an almost unbearable humiliation. Yet, even as Cleo smirked and revelled in the spectacle, Safiyah’s mind was a battleground—a clash of seething anger, unyielding pride, and an unwelcome flood of sensations coursing through her body.

The aphrodisiac was potent. Too potent. She could feel its effects intensify with every passing second, a fiery heat spreading through her veins like molten lava. Her skin felt hypersensitive, every graze of fabric or touch from the British Model igniting a visceral, almost overwhelming response. Her thighs clenched involuntarily, and her body betrayed her, shivering under the maddening chemical assault. It was as though her very flesh had turned against her, amplifying every sensation to an almost unbearable degree.

Her core ached with a need that wasn’t her own, a deep, throbbing pulse that made her toes curl and her breath hitch. Safiyah hated it—hated the way it clouded her thoughts, hated the way it made her feel so utterly exposed. And most of all, she hated how Cleo looked at her, that smug grin that told Safiyah she knew exactly what was happening inside her body.

Cleo’s mocking voice sliced through the haze of Safiyah’s mind, her tone dripping with derision. The pat on her cheek had stung, not from pain but from its sheer condescension. Safiyah wanted to lash out, to reclaim control, but her body remained paralyzed. The Azure Cobra’s body ached, her muscles straining against the unrelenting pressure of Cleo’s control. She felt as if she were being systematically dismantled, her pride stripped away with every calculated move. The memory of Cleo’s scorpion kick lingered, a sharp ache radiating through her jaw where the sole of Cleo’s foot had pressed into her mouth. The indignity of being silenced in such a way burned in her mind, her lips tingling from the humiliating contact.

Her throat throbbed where Cleo’s aphrodisiac-coated foot had struck with ruthless precision. Each haggard swallow was a reminder of the force behind that kick, the bruise blossoming beneath her skin like a mark of her opponent’s dominance. Worse, the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac made the sensation electric, her skin hypersensitive and her body betraying her with shivers that had nothing to do with the pain.

The shoulder lock was a cruel masterpiece, twisting her arm at an unnatural angle and pinning her neck with a grip that left her unable to rise. Cleo’s arm coiled around hers like an iron snake, the pressure relentless, and the pain sharp enough to make her wince with every movement. Her free hand pressed against the mat for support, but it did little to ease the strain on her twisted joints.

Safiyah felt utterly trapped, her body subdued and manipulated, as if she were nothing more than a puppet for Cleo’s amusement. The crowd roared their cheers and jeers a deafening backdrop to her degradation. Cleo’s taunts were sharp and cutting, her words laced with venom as she mocked Safiyah’s helplessness. Safiyah bit her lip, her teeth pressing hard enough to sting, using the pain to ground herself against the storm of sensations threatening to overwhelm her.

The aphrodisiac coursing through her veins compounded her torment, her body responding to every touch, every shift of Cleo’s grip, with an unwanted heat that made her skin flush and her breath quicken. It was maddening, this war between her mind and her body, the former burning with rage and humiliation while the latter betrayed her with every shiver and gasp. The audience roared again, and Safiyah’s cheeks burned with shame. She wanted to scream, to fight, but the combination of the shoulder lock, the aphrodisiac, and Cleo’s cruel precision left her powerless. Her muscles ached, her arm throbbed, and the haze of unwanted desire clouded her thoughts, making every moment a test of her willpower.