Sheila Morgan vs. Kenzie Kraze II - Pleasure in the Pain

[DropKix]

Kenzie’s body was a complete wreck, even more so than usual—writhing, twitching, and laughing as the combination of sweat, blood, concession drinks, and god-knows-what else drenched her frame while it scraped across the cold, unforgiving floor of the backstage hallways. Disoriented and barely aware of her surroundings, she was still delirious when Sheila suddenly kicked open the locker room door, sending her crashing face-first into the bench. For a split second, Kenzie glimpsed the tiled walls of the locker room and the blurry faces of LAW’s roster—half-naked and wide-eyed, their mouths hanging open as they stared at the chaos unfolding. And then, the sharp crack of the cord across her skin, jerking her body upon impact. The pain surged through her, a brutal shock to her already battered body, as the cord dug into her back, leaving a thick, angry welt that stretched across her pale, slick skin.

She didn’t scream.

No, instead, Kenzie’s giggling erupted like the crack of thunder, sharp and discordant, echoing off the tiled walls of the quickly emptying locker room.

"Ohhhh, Sheila, babe! You’re really gettin' the hang of it now!" she rasped, her voice dripping with manic delight and teasing mockery. Her hands clawed at the edges of the bench, her nails dragging against the wood in erratic patterns, leaving tiny crescents in their wake.

The female wrestlers who had been lounging, dressing, or chatting before Sheila’s dramatic entrance were frantically squeezing past the door. One of them—a young, freshly showered rookie with damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks—hovered near the doorway, clutching her bag to her chest. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, flicked from the brutal spectacle to the door, as if calculating how quickly she could make her escape. Kenzie’s wild gaze caught her, and despite the cord biting into her back, a twisted grin broke across her bloodied lips. "What’s the matter, sweetheart?" she hissed, her voice somehow sultry despite the rasp of pain. "You stickin’ around for the show, or just waiting for your turn?"

The young wrestler—Dizzy, though Kenzie didn’t know her name—blanched, her face paling as she took that as a cue for her to get the hell out of there. "Aww look what've ya done now Sheila! You've got these girls leaving in droves! Try and give ‘em something worth watching!"

Kenzie’s words spilled out in broken, breathless spurts, punctuated by the crack of the cord as it met her skin again. Each strike carved a new story onto her back—angry reds and faint purples beginning to bloom in chaotic, jagged patterns. She twisted beneath the blows, not to escape, but to revel in them, her body coiling in equal parts pain and pleasure.

Her pink-and-black pigtails swung wildly with her movements, strands sticking to her face, her lips, her eyes—making her look all the more unhinged, like a doll broken and stitched together with threads of malice and madness. Through the haze of pain and delirium, her tongue darted out to wet her cracked lips, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the salt of sweat. Her body convulsed as another strike landed, a shudder rolling through her frame that might’ve looked like agony to the untrained eye. But to Kenzie? It was ecstasy. Her fingers curled into the edge of the bench, knuckles white as she started to push up, trembling limbs fighting against the weight of her opponent’s fury.

[BlackAkuma]

Sheila didn’t care for about an audience one way or another - hell, the camerawoman and the referee had slipped in there with them, and were staying a healthy distance away, peeking from behind the shower stalls like they expected bullets to start flying. Let her watch. Let them all. She was going to make an example out of Kenzie, something people would remember whenever they thought about starting shit with her.

No, the reason she told everyone to fuck off was to get some goddamn space. The locker room wasn’t exactly cramped, but it wasn’t all that large, either, with just enough room to comfortably carry about a dozen people before things got annoying. She didn’t want anyone getting in the way, and she wasn’t in the mood for an orgy. She wanted Kenzie all to herself. If they wanted to see this bitch get fucked, they had to pay like everyone else.

When they did, they’d also get treated to a hell of a show. Sheila didn’t need a crystal ball to guess how Kenzie would react to getting whipped - the same way she responded to everything, by getting horny and turned on. The woman was the living incarnation of a sex store, and she doubted there was a kink she could do that wouldn’t get her rocks off.

That didn’t stop Sheila from whipping her, of course. It was way too fun to stop. But it made her realize she needed to change things a bit. She might as well do it in a way that lets her have some fun, too.

She gave Kenzie one final powerful lash, then kicked her in the side and knocked her off the bench, so her ragged, bloody back slapped on the grimy, tiled floor. Had to suck, and it would suck even more when Sheila mounted her and seized her leg, lifting it while she straddled the other one.

”Want to fuck, right?” Sheila yanked Kenzie’s bottom aside, exposing her nethers to the fresh air for the second time. Still dripping wet, no surprise. ”Fine, we’ll fuck. My time, my terms.”

No need to hold back any longer, fuck the foreplay. Sheila pulled her own underwear aside, slid forward, gripped Kenzie’s leg, and began to pound away with furious abandon, slapping their pussies together with an audible clap. She went into a slow grind from there, pressing down hard with a focus intensity, closing her eyes as the sensations tore through her. She’d already gotten hot through this match, her senses amped up, and it made every touch electric.

Sheila leaned in and clawed at Kenzie’s chest with her spare hand as she picked up the pace, digging into the skin, rapidly going down the happy path and getting lost in the bliss of it all.