First Day Blues (complete)

[hamish1024]

“Woah.”

Storm had taken a few steps into the room, before clocking just what was exactly was festooned across the walls. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped several beats, as she glanced about the shelves of weaponry, toys, S&M equipment, and other associated contraptions.

“Well, this is a bit much for a first date!” she deadpanned, trying to cover her shock. She was quickly coming round though – it did look like a professional wrestling ring, she rationalised, if you ignored the décor and focused on the fighting area, which Wendy seemed to want to.

“Ach, it’s okay, I get it, they have to film those matches somewhere, I guess. And it’s good to know where,” she mused, taking a few steps forward. “The ring looks solid enough.”

Storm tapped her fist against the apron to emphasise her point, before motioning back to the wickedly stocked walls. “If you think you’re using any of that medieval shit on me, you’ve got another thing coming!” she joked. “Actually, I don’t know what half these things are…” she conceded, truthfully. Storm had spent most of her career as a face, so whilst she wasn’t prudish or morally opposed to the existence of S&M matches, they were far from her specialist subject. Not yet, at least.

Storm stiffened again as she felt Wendy sidle up behind her and place a gentle hand on her ass. She smiled at the pleasant tingle her touch brought. “Now, now, I thought we were pretty clear, fighting first, fun afterwards,” the Scot said in a chiding tone, though she made no effort to remove Wendy’s hand. It was fairly clear that Storm was relishing the attention, despite her cool demeanour. Hell, Storm knew she had a pretty hot ass, she focused a decent amount of her training (and wrestling style!) on it, so she didn’t really begrudge Wendy for wanting a touch.

She scratched her chin thoughtfully as she looked up at the ring. “Are we honest enough for 3-count pins? Or will we have to stick to submission bouts, so no one can whine about it being unfair?” she wondered out loud, putting the S&M setting out of her mind for now as her thoughts turned to wrestling.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy took visual stock of the area while Storm settled in, running her plans on how to proceed. She didn’t know how skilled this woman was, but it was safe to say she wasn’t a scrub, that she was every bit as tough as she looked. It a straight up fight, they’d be evenly matched, but having the surprise would tilt things firmly in her favor. She’d go in hard and fast, wear her down to a nub, then have some fun. Should be an easy time, so long as she was smart about it, and with the door locked and the walls thick, nobody’d be coming to the rescue anytime soon. It was too late for matches, and the custodians knew not to interrupt wrestler business.

Hello, fly. Welcome to the web.

Wendy kept her hand on that admittedly amazing ass, letting her hand grow more aggressive with each second, though she didn’t go too wild just yet. She’d have this body all to herself in a little bit, she could exercise some patience. ”I’m thinking submissions, yeah. Hell, verbal submissions only. Want to hear what that accent of yours sounds like when it gets real loud.” Not that it mattered, but it was always fun to drop a hint or two, add some spice.

The stage was set, the preparation was complete, she couldn't have asked for a better setup. Time to begin. She leaned forward, pressing her body against Storm’s back as she gave her backside a solid, possessive slap. ”Ding, ding.”

Wendy turned on like a switch, reaching up and wrapping her arms around Storm’s head with a vicious chokehold, clamping down tight on her throat with both arms and giving her the full power. She jerked about, torquing her neck from side to side with merciless twists, before she abruptly jerked back and sent her flying overhead with a sleeper suplex to the floor mats. An insane, brutal start to thing, and it was going to get worse - much worse - for Storm before it got any better.

[hamish1024]

Storm let out an uncharacteristically cute little snort as Wendy saucily complimented her accent, whilst carrying on her little game of grab-ass. She was very pleased at the praise from the sultry Southerner, although Storm hoped it wasn’t going to get too in the way of the wrestling – she did genuinely want to test herself here.

The Scot felt Wendy shift stance behind her. Presumably, the wanton white-haired woman was moving to grope her some more, so Storm simply responded with a playfully disapproving tut, and got ready to swat greedy hands away from her chest.

Except, Wendy wasn’t playing. The hard, bracing slap to Storm’s ass immediately forgotten about, as Wendy’s powerful arms snaked possessively around Storm’s throat, trapping her in a tight sleeper hold.

“Erkkk… what the…..” Storm spluttered, shocked at the surprise move, and also suffering in the other woman’s wrenching grip. She started to squirm, but escape looked doubtful, as Wendy was locked in tight, and doubling down by wrenching Storm’s neck back and forth, so that the Scot was struggling just to keep her footing. She felt her face redden as she was violently choked, her compressed neck stopping blood flow to her head, to dizzying effect. Storm tried to fire an elbow back at Wendy’s body, but the hold was too ruthless, and too unexpected, to secure a quick release from.

Storm tried to rally herself, and her struggles became fiercer, but when relief from the chokehold came, it was not in her favour. She felt Wendy shift, grab, and then launch her overhead in the sleeper suplex. Storm gave a rasping yell as she lurched backwards and went airborne. As a big girl, she was not used to getting thrown about, but Wendy had leveraged her own strength well. And now that Storm was airborne, the adage about big girls falling harder proved painfully true – the disoriented Scot smashed down brutally onto her head, the impact made worse by her own plummeting weight. A vicious jab of pain shot through the top of her skull, and lanced along her spine, as the ringside mats offered scant padding, and minimal protection from the powerful suplex. She collapsed in a messy heap, her body crumpling face-down as a bruising result of Wendy’s opening attack.

What. The. Fuck. Storm’s scrambled brain was trying to make sense of the last few moments, as she groaned in pain on the floor. Was Wendy just a bit too keen, and playing a little too rough? Was she expecting this treatment back in kind, or was she just trying to Pearl Harbour Storm into helplessness? Storm didn’t yet know, but had a horrible suspicion it was the latter. Gritting her teeth, she tried to force herself up off the ground, so as not to be a sitting duck for any follow up assault.

“The fuck happened to…. Playful sparring?” she moaned woozily.

Pressing up to her knees, she clenched her right fist, trying to stave off any attack the best she could in her dishevelled state.

[BlackAkuma]

As Wendy powered down on Storm’s neck, she didn’t fail to notice how strong the woman was, how fiercely she fought back. Yeah, most anyone would if they found themselves suddenly getting choked the fuck out, but most anyone wouldn’t have done this good a job at trying to get free, even if it was never going to happen. Wendy gritted her teeth as a sharp elbow rammed into her ribs - it was sloppy, awkward, but it sunk deep all the same and she’d be feeling it for a while.

Not for as long as Storm would be feeling what came next, though. Wendy took pride in her ability to send women flying, and while she didn't often get the chance to do it with someone close to her size, she could pull it off just fine. Anyone who doubted that would only have to watch as she hulked up and sent Storm careering through the air. She couldn't see the way that her victim came down, but judging by the sound of the impact and her trajectory…

Yup. She’d come down on her head. Nice.

Wendy fell to her back and rolled over to see Storm lying in a dazed heap, clearly trying to put all the puzzle pieces together with what few mental faculties she had available. She was surprised the woman was even conscious; she’d knocked out people with far less before. All that stuff about Scots being tough wasn’t bullshit, it seemed, but that wasn’t a problem - hell, if she could take some real damage before she broke, that just meant they had more ways to have fun.

”Whew! Look at you over there, taking it like a champ!” Wendy snickered, pushed up her to feet, and daintily strolled over to Storm, closing in on her like she was just taking a little stroll in the park. She’d just made it back into striking distance when the woman spoke up, asking the obvious question.

”Funny, that.” She tapped her chin and looked up with absentminded eyes. ”Don’t recall saying a damn thing about ‘playful’.”

As Storm tried to push her way back up, Wendy took a few steps to the side, took aim, and then rushed her way with a bounding step. She leaped up as soon as she was close, turned about in mid-air, and came down for a brutal sit on the woman’s back, driving all of her weight into her victim’s spine to drive her into the floor, hammering her like a rusty nail. She wouldn’t be getting up until she was allowed to get up, and Wendy hadn't decided when that would be. Not just yet.

[hamish1024]

Face-down and fighting off a lot of mental fog, Wendy’s taunting giggle echoed in Storm’s ears, adding to her severe headache. Storm had been enjoying this a lot more a few moments ago, back when she was being complimented on her body, rather than on her ability to take a beating. Worse, she was still struggling to get to grips with what or why this sudden plunge in her fortunes was happening.

Her vaunted resilience didn’t help her much against Wendy’s next move, either. With a grim determination not to stay grounded, Storm had battled through to push up on to all fours – which just meant that her attacker’s ruthless running butt-drop hit her all her harder.

The poor Scotswoman groaned as Wendy’s 180lb frame smashed ass-first onto her spine. There was no way Storm was riding that out, and her shaky arms and legs gave way instantly. She haplessly crashed straight down beneath Wendy’s weight, her spine bruised and her face and chest splatting painfully flat onto the dark floormats. Frankly there was more padding in her attacker’s ass, than at this brutal ringside battleground, and her head and body were harshly rattled yet again.

Laid out and pinned face-down, the groaning Storm really wasn’t going anywhere right now. She still squirmed and struggled on principle, but she knew this was a bad place to be against such a large and indiscriminate assailant.

The pain was bad enough, but Wendy’s mocking was already starting to rile her ego, too. That Southern sass, so sexy at the beginning, was starting to sour into something darker. Storm felt her resolve hardening in response to this casual cruelty, not that there was much she could do about it. For now.

“Dirty bitch…. Fight fair…” Storm snarled breathlessly as she tried to wriggle out of her beaten-down predicament.

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy came down for a hard crash on Storm’s back, and while the results were predictable, they were no less amusing. Storm was a strong, tough bitch, she could tell that, but everyone had their limits, and most people tended to reach them when nearly 200 pounds came crashing down on their spine. Tough as she was, strong as she was, the Scot was utterly flattened under the Backstage Bully, laid out and helpless beneath her backside, exactly the way Wendy liked her.

”Theeeeeeeeeeeere we go.” Wendy wiggled her butt about and got comfortable, grinding into a Storm’s spine to aggravate the agony. She huffed, taking a second to catch her breath, and reached back to place a hand on her victim’s cheek, giving it another good feel. She really did have a great ass going on, back there. Maybe not as good as her own, but close, damned close.

She was just starting to enjoy herself and get carried away, when Storm spoke up and brought a guffaw out of her. ”Oh, wow, you got some nerve, girl! Give you that much. Laid out flat, still trying to make demands. Cute, real cute.”

Wendy reached back with both hands to pat Storm’s cheeks like bongos, then threw herself forward to lay down on the Scotswoman’s back, draping over her like a blanket. She grabbed a handful of that luscious brown hair and yanked her head back, as she brought her lips to the woman’s ear, speaking hot and husky into it. ”Rule one of wrestling, girl: If you’re fighting fair, you ain’t fighting.” She gave her a little peck on the cheek and winked. ”You think this is dirty? Just wait.”

Wendy was sure that Storm would have a lot to say that, but she wouldn’t have much opportunity to react before her chin was cupped and her head was pulled back. The Backstage Bully slid her legs in under her victim’s shoulders, planted her feet on the mat, and just like that, she had her hefty foe in a backbreaking Camel Clutch, testing her flexibility as she wrenched her further and further back.

Just for added effect, she fishhooked her fingers into Storm’s mouth and stretched lips out, all while her laugh echoed through the room. ”Come on, lemme see that smile!”

[hamish1024]

The good news – Wendy had revealed her true colours, and Storm had a pretty good idea of what she was dealing with now.

The bad news – literally everything else.

Wendy’s well-groomed beauty belied an utterly ruthless sadism. Storm was learning that the hard way, gritting her teeth in agonised annoyance, as the Southerner bounced her butt around on Storm’s bruised spine, Wendy making herself comfortable whilst clearly relishing the fact her floored victim was anything but. Storm dearly wanted to take the wind out of Wendy’s sails, but even a petty slap was beyond her ability at this point, with no real way to effectively attack the woman weighing down on top of her back.

Storm gave another animal growl as Wendy had yet more fun at her expense, this time groping and slapping rhythmically on her upturned ass. The brunette dug her fingers into her palms as she endured the degradation – the nerve of this woman! Wendy was acting like she had already won – Storm just hoped she could find a way to prove her wrong.

There were scant rays of light for the poor blindsided wrestler at the moment, though. She felt Wendy reposition and reach forwards, but it was just to grab at her hair and hiss insults into her ear. Storm shuddered at the sultry Southerner’s threats of future brutality. Or was it the kiss that sent a shiver down her spine? The scent of Wendy’s hair, as a few errant white locks brushed against Storm’s face?

Ugh, fuck off, libido. Storm did her best to ignore the flirting – she knew this was fast becoming a fight for survival, and if she didn’t stay focused, she was finished. Hell, even if she did focus, she might be finished anyway, such was the ferocity of the sneak attack.

“This isnae a fight, It’s fuckin’ assault!” she complained, before giving a forced moan of pain as her head was yanked up, and her arms were trapped behind Wendy’s toned thighs, locking poor Storm in a painful camel clutch.

The Scot grit her teeth as her body was brutally bent backwards, daggers of pain shooting down her compressed spine. Her first instincts were to try and tough it out, but as Wendy wickedly worked the hold, flexing her further and further backwards, more and more gasps of pain would slip from Storm’s throat. Worse still, Wendy was just getting warmed up.

“Smile!? Don’t tell me to fucking sm-eeeeghhhh!!” Storm grunted furiously as her lips were cruelly fishooked, contorting her face into a grotesque mockery of a smile. This was an extra sore point for Storm, as with her naturally scowling countenance she was always being told to smile more by assholes. Mainly though, it was just sore, the needless brutality of the fishhook confirming Wendy’s casual sadism.

Seconds turned slowly into minutes, as Storm suffered in the nasty submission hold, her large breasts forced outwards by Wendy’s grip, back bending at an ever more awful angle. The Camel Clutch was a wrestling staple, but the wickedness of it was often overlooked. In the ring, a clutch victim could work for a rope break, pray for a distraction, or hope the attacker’s fans would push for more spectacular punishments. In private though – it just fucking sucked, pure basic abuse, and there wasn’t a damn thing Storm could do to stop the lava-hot pain pushing through her tortured spine.

The Scot tried to tough it out through a stubborn sense of pride, at least until tears of pain began to moisten her eyes. Her supressed grunts slowly but surely became more anguished howls, until all her inhibitions about giving up were worn away.

Quivering in agony, Storm desperately tapped a submissive palm against Wendy’s thigh.

“RR Grrrrrvvvv!!” the brunette tried her best to cry that she gave, although the fishhook distorted her surrendering call. She could only hope that flattering Wendy’s ego into believing she had ‘won’ would earn her a reprieve.

[BlackAkuma]

The bad news? It was late, so Wendy would only have so long to play with Storm.

The good news? Literally everything else.

Honestly, Wendy couldn't have asked for a better scenario if she’d written one out herself. This wasn’t like when she’d wrecked Sha - as fun as that had been, the Egyptian was smaller, weaker, and could only take so much before she folded like a bad hand of cards. Storm, on the other hand, had some real stamina going, which not only made her more challenging to break, but more satisfying in the end. As Wendy pulled her back and put her flexibility to the test, she couldn't help but laugh as the Scotswoman gave her best protest, letting that brogue slip out as she spoke.

”Yeah, okay, right.” She chuckled and leaned in to give Storm a playful peck on the cheek. ”That’s just stuff loser’s say when they’re getting stomped, honey. You got suckered in, fell for it, now you’re making excuses.”

With her mouth fish hooked and the humiliation at its peak, Wendy pulled back even further than before, laughing. Credit where it was due: Storm was a fighter, struggling all the way, never giving in, even as her spine was bent in ways God never intended. But Wendy kept stretching and stretching, and every inch she cranked was a new pain that Storm had to suffer.

Sooner or later, something had to give. As it turned out, it was sooner.

”Oh, what was that? Don’t talk with your mouthful, darling!” She indulged in a long, guffawing laugh for a seconds, before she abruptly let Storm go and shoved her forward, slamming her chest into the floor. ”You’re a stubborn piece of work, give you that much.” She slid up Storm’s body and dropped her ass on the back of the woman’s head, smacking it against the floor, a quick bit of spite. ”No problem, though. Know how to deal with it.”

Her first inclination was to drag this woman into the ring for some real fun - the kind that would’ve had her screaming into Wendy. Before that happened, though, she wanted to have some pleasure of her own. As she came off Storm’s body, she turned about on her knees, grabbed two handfuls of the woman’s hair, yanked her head forward and shoved her into a raucous, wild kiss, slamming their lips together and invading her mouth with her tongue. Passion? Sure, that was there, and she wanted to get this in while Storm was still lucid enough for both of them to enjoy it. But it boiled down to dominance more than anything. She’d owned this beast of woman in record time, and this was putting the period on it.

[hamish1024]

Storm hung in an anguished limbo as Wendy laughingly considered her submission in the camel clutch. To the brunette’s relief, she accepted, although not without sending poor Storm slapping hard facedown onto the floor. The now-sweaty Scot lay leaden on the floor, giving a guttural moan that was half grateful reprieve, half lingering pain.

Her self-esteem had cratered, having been forced to give in to the painfully humiliating hold. Suckered in. Fell for it. Making excuses. The barbs rang true, Storm felt like such a gullible idiot for having dropped her guard for this sadist’s superficial charm. And it hardly seemed like Wendy was going to stop with a mere submission, either.

Storm wasn’t going anywhere in a hurry, with Wendy’s weight atop her, and her pain-wracked body sluggish to respond. That didn’t stop her tormentor from cruelly dropping her ass heavily onto the back of Storm’s skull, forcing a shocked cry from the Scot as she received a crunching face full of floor mat. Her already fragile skull was rattled by the brutal butt drop, Wendy’s big, peachy cheeks pressing her painfully into the floor with all that weight again. Storm felt very, very numb now.

She wanted to exhaustedly lay on the floor, probably for ever. But Wendy, of course, had other ideas, making a further mockery of any pretence that she wanted Storm as anything other than a personal punching bag and plaything. The brunette winced as her hair was roughly grabbed, yanking her up from the mat. Barely able to balance as she was forced up to her knees, the battered woman gave a grimacing moan of tired frustration, bracing herself for whatever evils were coming next.

What she hadn’t expected was Wendy’s warm, aggressive tongue forcing suddenly into her mouth. She trembled in shock, weak in the other woman’s embrace, just taking the dominating, hairpull-assisted kiss, as Wendy’s mouth invaded hers, hungrily. Their lips locked, Storm gave a hot whimpering moan as she came to terms with what was happening.

This was fucking sexy, and a part of Storm wanted it, wanted this sassy, strong, drop-dead-gorgeous domme to draw her in to some intimate fun. Storm softened as the kiss continued, moaning again with a hint of need, and her own tongue began to lick appreciatively at Wendy’s, gently pushing back, giving the appearance of playful acceptance, rather than defiance.

It was just that though – appearance. Storm wasn’t acting as such, and her lustful moans at locking tongues were genuine. But the Scot had enough composure and enough self respect not to give too much power to her libido right now. She’d allowed her lustful side to be indulged just long enough to appear as a simpering subbie – before ruthlessly switching it off.

Her hands, which had slyly crept up Wendy’s body as an accessory to the kiss, now shot into action, her fingers wrapping firmly around the white-haired girl’s throat. Storm gripped hard and pushed her arms out with as much strength as she could muster, breaking the kiss (and painfully, the hairpull), by powering Wendy into a two-handed throttle.

“You fucked with the wrong woman,” she snarled darkly as she started to squeeze the Southerner’s throat.

Storm knew this wasn’t a brilliant long-term tactic – she was still deeply dishevelled from her beating, and going toe-to-toe (or rather, knee-to-knee) in a strangling match was not a likely strategy for success in itself. But fuck, it wasn’t half satisfying to look Wendy in the eye as the tables were turned on her, and she realised this beatdown wasn’t going to be as one-sided as she’d assumed.

[BlackAkuma]

In Wendy’s experience, there were two types of victims.

You had the snowflakes. The pushovers. The lambs. The ones where it didn’t matter whether she used the innocent dove act or not to get the better of them. They got wrecked right away, just went down after the first punch, and then they might as well have been sexy little punching bags. She could work them over for hours if she wanted to, but she typically got bored before that happened. They just yelped and screamed and begged as she smothered and squeezed and crushed them to a pulp. They could be fun for a little while, and she could come up with games to spice things up, but most of the time they were just a little diversion.

Then you had the fighters. The defiers. The wolves. Those could’ve turned the tables on her if she wasn’t careful. They were always hard to break, and Wendy had to use some creativity for it and had to focus on grinding them to dust. She almost had to make them a mini-project, working them over piece by piece. They fought back in spurts, tried their hardest to get back on top, and she had to stay on her toes. She might need an hour or two to crack them, and when she did, it was so much more satisfying.

Storm, of course, was the latter, and she could see that in the woman’s eyes before she went in for the kiss. It made the contact all the sweeter, like a hunter showing off his prized kill. Her smile crept upwards as the moans echoed down her throat. The Scot was enjoying this, she was making her enjoy it, keeping the pain and pleasure on tap. Oh, she might’ve been hating this on some level, but the body had a way of getting what it wanted.

She’d only planned on making this a quick little sidebar, but as Storm got into it, so did she. Slipping her tongue in, turning her head from side to side, exploring every angle and every side, all while curious hands explored her body. Touching, teasing, going higher and higher, until-

Shit.

Wendy’s eyes shot wide, first in surprise and then in white hot rage, as Storm’s grip close around her throat with a furious, digging grip. She knew this woman was strong, but there was a marked difference between suspecting that and having it confirmed in one of the worst ways imaginable. She let out a hoarse, wheezing gasp, like a dying deer on the road, and then she struck back.

Wendy reached out snagged Storm’s hair with one hand, twisting it with a grip that threatened to tear off clumps. That couldn't have felt good, but it was the least of the Scot’s problems - no, her biggest concern was the first crashing into her face at a rapid pace, as Wendy battered her skull at will, hammering her with brutal, merciless blows, throwing a much force into each one as she could muster in this position.