We're Doing What Now? - Domino vs. Arlise Christiaens (Apartment PoW Match)

[CyanDimitrik]

She's very compliant, Domino considers as he sets her up. It's likely because she's enjoying it. She may even be a little lost in the sensuality of the moment. He knows he's enjoying it, maybe even indulging a bit more than strictly necessary. But he's going to insist, at least internally, that every movement, every grind, and every thrust was chosen specifically to keep her mind clouded and hazy. If he can work her breathless in the moment, all the better.

His hand trails down her arm, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin under fingertips. His head has to suddenly tilt, however, when part two of the plan begins. His hand traps her nose, his lips remaining sealed over hers. Once again, he cautiously tastes her lips to try to confuse her in the moment and tempt her to let go, while simultaneously mindful of not getting Million Dollar Baby'd by a random bite. He can feel her heart beat faster, his own pounding in excitement against her breast. The sudden and heightened struggle of her arms in his grasp was expected, and he presses down harder to try to buy as much time as possible. For now, he has her pinned beneath her and suffocating in that sensual submission.

The hips don't relent. He grinds harder, a little faster, daring her to surrender outright. If he can hasten her heartbeat more, cause her to need more air faster, the faster she'll go slack. And then, then, he'll let the referee count off the pin. And she'll be his over the course of the next day. No need for smothering dominance.

Unless she happens to be into that. Because if he's being honest with himself, the consensual struggle both signed up for is doing nothing to lessen his eagerness to claim her.

[Winter]

Lise squealed once more into Domino's hand when she could not immediately free her arm and desperation started to catch her. But realizing that noises neither helped her escape nor saved the remaining oxygen she had that wasn't being stolen by his mouth, she forced herself to silence. Through panicky gray eyes, she stared at his hairline while her lower body bucked in desperation, only for his constantly driving hips to keep her wedged in place and, to her frustration, made her aware that this treatment resided among the darker stimulations she enjoyed.

That, she entirely ripped from her mind. Trying to get back to her original plan, as it appeared her only means of escape, she let her hips flatten to the bed, knowing she wouldn't get out that way, and tightened her core as she worked to rip one of her arms free, once, twice...

With the third yank, she moved both of her arms from beneath his grip in different directions, and one broke free. While tilting up a knee to shift and try to roll her body at the same time, Lise drove the palm of her freed hand into the side of his face to force him to release his mouth-trap on her lips.

[CyanDimitrik]

Feeling Arlise break her hand free and twist them against the bedding isn't one Domino was altogether surprised by. Desperation is a heck of a thing, and though he certainly had her pinned, he knew she'd fight. But having one arm free and the other lowered more to the side, but still in his grip, doesn't end her predicament. In fact, feeling her buck and squirm, feeling her resist, spurs him to press tighter to her, leaving her no space nor respite from his body.

The hand swinging in might.

His face is pushed from hers in tandem with that twist of her frame, with the two of them rolling over. Domino winds up on his back, his hand no longer over her nose, but rather looped around her waist, as if a lover embracing her.

Those dark amethysts stare up at her, panting raggedly, hips still in subtle motion beneath hers. His hand suddenly leaves her wrist in favor of snagging a fistful of her hair in a poisoned frenzy to yank her face down for another kiss - not suffocating this time, but in wild abandon.

He's not trying to rationalize it. He just needed that moment of impulse.

[Winter]

Through the throes of pleasure and panic, Lise heard and felt her hand drive directly into the side of Domino's face, and once it was there, she wedged it as tightly into his temple as she could as her whole body joined the effort.

His mouth freed her first, and Lise soaked in a heavy enough breath to make what felt like every inch of her throat fill with frost, bringing on unpleasant tickles and then heavy coughs. But she continued through with her effort to get him fully off of her, and soon her nose came free, aiding her quickly enough that her coughing merely became sputtering as she ended up the one on top, feeling his tone beneath her like a vascular mattress all its own.

Not knowing what she wanted to do now that she had her freedom, she squirmed to get to her knees and at least straddle his chest with her thighs, but another sensation dragged her away from the notion. "Ahhh!", she cried out, before giving way to another sputter, as he took a yank of her hair, though the pull was not as vicious as her anxiety over having it pulled would indicate. Nonetheless, she grimaced against it and threw out an arm to try and lever herself...a forearm pushed against his chin might do the trick.

All the while, she went back to her previous plan of sliding her knees beneath her, trying to find herself higher on his chest.

[CyanDimitrik]

The smother effort had failed, though Domino wouldn't exactly say he regretted it. He got a pretty extensive kiss out of the deal, and Arlise, somewhere amidst that panic, may have been enjoying things a bit. It's rather hard to tell in the haze of struggling and fighting to keep the dominant position. Still, he managed to snag her hair and give that pull to remind her that she still had to work to gain control of this skirmish.

Her forearm places beneath his chin, forcing his head to uptilt as she scooches up along his torso, feeling her hips drag along his skin. But now, things are about to get complicated. Drake releases her hair, counting on her straightening her back to more comfortably adjust her position. But if she does so, he'll attempt to kick his legs up from behind her in an effort to hook under her arms and against her shoulders, and suddenly yank her upper-body down. Her knees will still be tucked at either side of his torso, while her upper-body would be bridged back, pinned with his legs over her shoulders, his hips somewhere behind her shoulders and neck. More importantly, it'll create a nice arch in her torso, forcing her bare stomach up towards the ceiling, defenseless. And it's that stomach he'll next attack, hands coming together to begin pressing in against it in an odd, horizontal gutwrench bearhug.

[Winter]

Sliding her thighs over the muscular roll of his chest with all the ease expected of two glistening with the effort of now minutes-long bed wrestling, Arlise grunted, thrusting her hips forward against the resistance brought on by his fighting against her shove against his chin. She needed to bury that well-cut chin of his beneath her, and then perhaps he would lack further bright ideas. Who could think while buried breathlessly beneath a lovely woman in her underwear? Of course, her own thoughts might end up a touch muddled from that position as well, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

One more shove of her elbow, one more push with her toes and free hand...

The redhead felt his body wrench beneath her butt, and sudden hooks that cinched around her shoulders left her, already imbalanced, careening backwards with a yelp.

Landing head-against-mattress, which sent her loose red hair flying yet again, was not nearly enough to disorient her, but her failure to rise even an inch when she tried to prop herself back up certainly did. The sense of restraint made her thrash, arms lashing out, but his legs - those were his legs, weren't they - stopped her from making any progress.

She managed to conjure pair of complimentary, but highly frustrated, thoughts about his flexibility and smarts before she felt his body situating more deeply beneath her, to the point that her ass, still perched on his chest, ended up several inches above where her head and shoulders lay pinned.

The position made her wonder if he didn't plan to latch her into a pin, and she went to raise a shoulder.

The manly paws that bore into her belly made her thrust it back down and unleash a highly un-Arlise-like screech that filled the room as she pushed onto her toes and squirmed against the violent massage.

[CyanDimitrik]

And a violent massage it could best be described, granting Arlise only as much protection as she has abdominal muscletone. But even for whatever amount she has there in her core, Domino is immediately working to weaken it. His hands press hard into her midsection, fingers boring tight against the smooth, taut pane of skin so generously left bare and on display.

His hips push upwards intermittently, adding pressing behind her shoulders to force her body into a tighter, even less protected arch. His heels scoot against the bed, easily disheveling what remains of the blankets and sheets. He isn't one for reveling in the anguish of others, but there's something alluring, in a primal way, about listening to Arlise's agony in the hold. It's like a raw, unrestrained endorsement of the tactic. Nevermind how he happens to have a thing for midriffs, and he's maybe a bit... less than clinically detached from the action here.

To be as blunt as the unavoidably obvious physical attraction prodding and stroking behind the girl's shoulders: the abdominal torture on poor Arlise is hot.

It isn't entirely for him, though. He has enough presence of mind to want to dominate Arlise not only physically, but mentally. His head lifts, raising against her hips with nowhere to go but directly against her center. But that's intentional. So is the aggressive nuzzling that follows. This flows in tandem with a finger hooking her bellybutton, lightly gouging as he adds a stomach-claw to the mix.

[Winter]

Somewhere in her mind, Lise cursed the touch of extra weight she carried in her midriff twofold - once for existing and another time for not better protecting her from the torture wrought by Domino's broad hands. Instead, she could feel her belly merely contorting, giving into the forceful ministrations of his fingers as they worked her over and jabbed into the contours of her abdominals.

Other parts of her mind acknowledged the cameras surely zooming in on her exposed, elevated stomach growing red the more he "massaged" it. Still another listened to the questions the ref girl taking the cries reverberating through the room as a sign that she expected Lise to give into the man holding her body up on a torture rack made from the positioning of his body. And another couldn't fail to notice that the stiff prod between her shoulder blades matched her own irritatingly obvious sense of excitement.

Her breath hitched in between her moans when he noticed that excitement and acted accordingly. His hair brushed over her in a sensation unpleasant and pleasant at the same time, leaving no question that it was his head that he had thrust against the base of her hips.

The redhead, all survival instinct now, reacted accordingly herself.

Both of her legs abandoned their search for purchase on the bed and became ramrod-straight, acting like a flytrap meant to snag his head as it hovered at the space between her thighs.

[CyanDimitrik]

A bit of a double-edged sword, playing the game of teasing manipulation. It wasn't one Domino was accustomed to, much less one he employed in the ring. In fact, he probably wouldn't have done it here and now, were the setting not deceptively relaxed and intimate. But with the teasing they'd both endured so far, the fact that he was painfully obviously attracted to the girl stretched out above him, and that the opportunity was right there, it was a temptation he couldn't resist.

So nuzzle he does. Aggressively, and with unabashed purpose. The point of contact sees his hips spike up a little higher to force a tighter arch into her lean body, and his hands take full advantage of her continually defenseless midsection. Squeezing, raking, crushing, testing the durability of her stomach while deconstructing it, and not so subtly loving the contact.

She reacts in a way that seemed both natural and annoying. He should've expected a headscissor. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't care. He doesn't care at the start, not backing away from the forceful teasing, the desire to dominate her in more than a single way creeping further to the forefront of his mind. But as her thighs clamp, it spurs him to see if it's an act of defiance, or if it's borne of a craving to keep him there. The test is simple, but anyone watching would be able to see it; Arlise would certainly be able to feel it. The torture delivered by his hands redoubles, his left arm hooking her stomach just beneath her breasts to keep her writhing to a minimum while his right hand buries hard into her gut, one finger gouging her bellybutton.

"Mnf! Loosen up.. and I'll just finish ya with a pin!," he calls, lips moving against the base of her hips, partially muffled against her underwear.

[Winter]

Arlise quickly moved to prove that her headscissor was born of defiance and necessity, not of craving, despite all of her body’s protests to the contrary.

She fumbled, briefly, so disoriented from his attempts to rearrange the layout of her abdominal muscles and her awkward hips-above-head position that she couldn’t truly get her ankles crossed until she could feel them brush against each other. Once they found each other, however, they clung to each other like desperate siblings and worked together to tighten the hold around his head. Both thighs, more shapely than an athlete’s like most of the rest of her body, formed around his skull and bulged with muscle simultaneously, with all effort to crack him open like a pecan.

As intense as it was, the angle and her weakened core meant she didn’t have the strength to make him tap, especially once he wrapped himself more tightly around her midriff and started tearing into her stomach with more vigor. That, combined with the sensation of his mouth moving against her hips, was enough to turn her more restrained moans into one loud enough that the neighbors could hear, had there been any.

But despite his best efforts, the redhead fought like a hellcat, rocking her body feverishly alongside each moan for just a chance to dislodge him while her legs snatched at his head with each motion and squeezed down with renewed vigor.

Maybe if she couldn’t squeeze him out, she could disorient him enough with her jerking movements to make him slip up. She and her stomach hoped so, because they had little left to give.