'Thunder' Storm MacIntosh vs. Wendy Winston - The War Below

[BlackAkuma]

Wendy hated to admit it - really, really, really hated it - but Storm was a tough bitch. She should’ve known that from the first time they encountered each other, she taken way more punishment in that beating than just about anyone else could in the same position. But taking her on in a straight up fight just drove the point home. The bitch was relentless, and she suspected it wasn’t all because of the heat between them, that this was just how she usually rolled. Probably the closest thing Wendy would ever have to a mirror match.

Of course, she wasn’t going to say any of that out loud and give her props. Not today.

Right now, she was all about staying on top and applying pressure, enjoying the first real advantage she’d had since this barroom brawl of a wrestling match started. It was a struggle to stay on top of Storm, the woman bucking like a crazed bronco, but Wendy had tamed a few wild mares in her youth, and she knew how to ride. Her axe handle wasn’t enough to take all the fight out of her opponent, but she was on the defensive now, wildly flailing, throwing glancing shots against her chest that didn’t amount to much. Desperate, defensive, trying to stop what was coming.

Wasn’t going to work. It was hard for Wendy to get in a punch like this, with her arms up and covered, but that didn’t mean she had no options. ”Damn straight I am!”

Instead of trying to crack Storm’s shell with punches, Wendy planted her feet on the mat, pushed up, and leaped upwards, getting some impressive height from a squatting position. She kicked out her leg at the apex of her jump and attempted to drop all of her weight on her foe’s upper body, looking to smash her with a devastating butt drop.

[hamish1024]

Down but not out, Storm was making a decent job of battling through the pain in her pulverised chest, stubbornly striking up at her opponent in the hopes of breaking free of the straddle. Thrusting her crotch upwards got her nowhere – Wendy was sat in too firmly for that – but Storm knew she had to try everything. She grimaced as Wendy revelled in her status of ‘bitch’, which fired the Scotswoman to writhe against her enemy that little bit fiercer. Given the close physical match-up of the two wrestlers, Storm had almost dared to hope this would be a relatively clean fight – Storm herself liked to win through strength, rather than subterfuge, if she could manage it – but Wendy’s ruthless and relentless battering of her tits put paid to the notion that this battle would be fought on physicality alone.

Maybe she’s better at being a heel than you, a dark needling voice scratched at the back of her mind, through the pain and frenzy of the fight. Storm felt a twinge in her gut; self-doubt was the last thing she needed, right now, with the match on the line and a she-wolf bearing down on her.

Suddenly, the balance of the lop-sided brawl changed. The beleaguered Storm felt the weight lessen on her waist. Wendy was unexpectedly giving up the straddle. Maybe Storm could -

“UNGHH!!” the brunette convulsed in shock and pain as Wendy nailed the aggressively quick, but nonetheless brutally heavy, butt-drop. Storm would almost have respected the speed at which Wendy had switched up the assault, were she not on the painful end of it. The thick-hipped Southerner’s full weight, right on her tenderised chest. Storm’s big boobs were awash with pain as they were flattened under Wendy’s ass, and the impact of being used as a crash-mat knocked the air from the brunette’s lungs.

She felt sick. Pained, choked, stunned… Storm flopped like a landed fish beneath her enemy, mouth agape, unable to say a word as she spluttered between Wendy’s thighs.

[BlackAkuma]

”Fucking finally!”

Wendy came crashing down on Storm’s chest, hammering her against the mat with resonating force, an impact that left the entire crowd wincing. She hadn't cared too much where she landed, but she was pleased to have the Scotswoman’s chest as her landing pad. The two of them were fairly close on bust size, she’d have to break out the measuring tape to know for sure, so she could say with some authority that taking a hit like that on a chest like hers absolutely sucked.

The pain was written all over Storm’s face, gaping and gawking and gasping for air. She’d recover from that, sure, but not for a little while, and until she did? Oh, Wendy was going to town. She already knew exactly what to do, but she didn’t go for the kill straightaway. Instead, she spread her legs and breathed deep, catching her breath after going full tilt for so long. She wasn’t exactly a long-distance runner; fighting at max like that right out of the gate was a taxing experience. Worth it, though. So fucking worth it.

”Hey.” She spoke through her huffing breaths and reached out to grab hold of Storm’s hair with both hands, getting a tight grip and forcing her to look straight at her. ”Back at my place, your little sidekick had some fun on my face before you came back. Her ass is on the list, too, but I can't get my hands on her? Oh, you’ll do. You’ll do just fine.”

There was a reason that the hot short-shorts Wendy wore had a heart cut-out on the back and front, and Storm would learn why as the Backstage Bully slid forward and sat on her with a forward facesit, her pussy barely covered by the electric blue g-string she wore. She took a moment to make sure that her opponent’s arms were pinned correctly beneath her legs, and then she began to thrust forward, grinding on Storm’s face, using the grip on her foe’s hair to pull her in with each humping thrust and create an airless seal.

[hamish1024]

Storm gave a choked howl of frustration as she instinctively tried to push out from under her opponent, but found she could not. The battering she had taken, compounded with Wendy’s crushing weight, left her stuck in the painful pin, looking up at her enemy but unable to fight back. God, Storm despised feeling like that. The pain was bad, but the helplessness, now that really stuck in her throat.

Wendy seemed to sense it, too, taking a moment to enjoy her dominant position, and catch her breath. The Southerner was finally slowing down, from her frenzied, relentless opening, though this was hardly an improvement for poor Storm now, as she found herself straddled. The seething Scotswoman squirmed and kicked her feet, but could do nothing from her prison between Wendy’s thighs, as the bitch began to threaten her with a face-fucking, in payback for her partner Lyssa’s own lewd finale to the apartment ambush last week.

“Oh, no,” Storm winced at the hairpull, as she was made to fully understand what was in store for her now. “That’s… not fair… wait…”

The floored girl was put out that she was being punished for Lyssa’s discretions, rather than her own, although she was hardly in a position to talk about fairness, and knew she could expect no mercy here.

Still, that knowledge did nothing to temper the spike of fear and humiliation, as Wendy slid her heavy frame forward, and settled into a face-squashing crotch smother.

“Mphghhh!!!” Storm spluttered, eyes widening as her nose and mouth were covered, pressed into Wendy’s pussy, trapping her in a punishing, airless pin.

Forced to get aggressively intimate with Wendy’s nethers, the reeling Storm found it an unwelcome reminder of her very first day in LAW, when the Backsage Bully had ruthlessly exploited her naivety – subjecting her to slams, stretches, and stinkfaces galore, before finishing her off with a facesit much like this one.

She really, really didn’t want to repeat that experience, but the lack of air to her smothered face meant she had to act quicky if she wanted to avoid a gruelling fate. With a stifled grunt of effort, Storm curled her long legs upwards, trying to see if she could snatch Wendy’s head with her calves and somehow disrupt the domineering pin.

[BlackAkuma]

If Wendy were being 100% honest, she wasn’t even that mad about getting her face humped by Lyssa. It had been a rough experience, but it wasn’t as if her face had never been between a lover’s legs before, and she could get down with that sort of rough fucking…so long as she got something out of it, too. That was what ground her gears, how she’d been left hanging with no relief while her face was used like a sex toy. While Storm was still at the top of her list for orchestrating her bedroom beatdown, Lyssa was a close second.

Of course, she wasn’t stupid enough to take them both on at the same time - while she didn’t know how good Lyssa was in the ring, Storm on her lonesome was almost more than she could handle, so two on one would tip the scales even if she couldn't wrestle worth a damn. It was all good. Her time was coming, too. If there was one thing Wendy Winston excelled at, it was holding a grudge for a long time. ”Life ain’t fair, honey.” She licked her lips as she slid forward and moved into place. ”Get used to it.”

And so the grinding began. Some lovers would’ve tried to start slow and pace themselves, but Wendy wasn’t in the mood for foreplay - no, she was out for satisfaction, plain and simple. She dropped her total weight on Storm’s face and thrust hard, pounding her opponent’s skull with brutal thrusts, bucking like a wild animal in heat. Fast, insistent movements, punctuated with the occasional hard press, as she gripped her foe’s hair tight and pulled her in deep, before starting back up with another round of furious pumps.

She threw her head back and made a noise that was equal parts moaning and laughter, as she got lost in the moment - so lost that she almost didn’t notice Storm’s legs coming up to try and dismount her. A pair of thick calves snagged her neck and pulled her back, but she reached up, pulled them apart, and got herself free at the last moment, saving herself from an embarrassing reversal.

”Little shit!” She sneered down at Storm, her blue eyes hot with fury, and drove harder into her face than ever before, pounding her skull against the canvas as punishment. At the same time, she twisted around and drove her fist into her opponent’s bare stomach, drilling her in the abs with each shot, driving her fist in as deep as she could get it. ”It’s happening, bitch. Just fucking take it!”

[hamish1024]

Storm’s situation was getting worse and worse. This was more than just a pinning smother, and more than plain revenge – although taking the shine off of last week’s out-of-the-ring ambush was clearly high on Wendy’s wish list.

No, this was about dominance. Wendy was making it sexual, too, wasting no time in turning the forward facesit – already a lewd move – into an outright face-fucking. She didn’t want to score a point, she wanted ownership. Storm was reeling in dismay as her features were ridden, her humiliation rising as she squirmed beneath the cut-out heart of Wendy’s crotchless hot pants. The Southerner’s choice of costume really added to the ordeal, leaving nothing but the thinnest of thongs between Storm’s poor face, and her opponent’s heavy, grinding, insistent crotch thrusts.

In other circumstances, this might not have been too bad – Wendy was objectively gorgeous, and plenty of onlookers might have envied Storm her intimate position between those thick, powerful thighs. Hell, Storm could just about remember feeling something similar, when she had first bumped into Wendy and been enraptured by their racy flirting – until, of course, the mask had slipped, and Storm found out the hard way that Wendy was nothing but an unpleasant thug, as cruel as she was beautiful. The brunette’s heart was hardened to this bitch, which made the current cruel parody of intimacy all the more mortifying for her.

Her cries muffled, her nose and mouth enveloped by Wendy’s womanhood, Storm felt her face redden and her air-starved senses begin to swirl. With a last roll of the dice, she tried to kick out at Wendy’s head, but her attacker shot her down, firmly. Storm’s reward for struggling was a series of sickening belly shots, and another hard hit to her rattled head. Even more disheartening was the way Wendy barked at her to ‘take it’; it felt like an order, not a threat. The assured sadism of someone who knew they had won.

“Mpghhhhhh!!” Storm wailed again, but with far less fight in her now. Her squirming legs stopped trying to kick up at Wendy, her sapped energy showing as her limbs flopped in a much meeker show of protest. This was all excruciating for Storm – she wanted to escape, badly, but she was stuck firm in the humiliating hold. Wendy’s crotch humping meant the smother was far from efficient – Storm found she was able to snatch the odd half-breath of hot, sweaty air – but this just served to drag the ordeal out for the bottom girl.

Had it been seconds? Minutes? Storm’s anguished mind was swirling as she writhed helplessly in the hot and heavy facesit.

[BlackAkuma]

It wasn’t illegal to have an orgasm in a non-hentai match, right? Because Wendy was damn sure on the verge.

This sort of thing would’ve been right up her alley in a regular match, regardless - the only thing better than facesitting someone was getting some personal gratification out of the mix. She didn’t always try to get a good grind on like this, since she was so much better suited to a reverse facesit thanks to her generous glutes, but doing it like this enabled so many fun things. Like, say, being able to look down and see Thunder’s panicking face, seeing the fear, the despair, all of it from those pretty brown eyes.

Of course, Storm wasn’t going down easy, the bitch had to make everything difficult. But a few good hits to the body combined with some serious oxygen took the fight out of her, and Wendy was rewarded with a less combative seat, easier to ride down. The Scotswoman was going nowhere anytime soon.

”That’s a good girl.” She eased up on the bucking momentarily to lean over and give Storm a pat on the head, knowing it would drive her even crazier. Both of them hated being on the receiving end, one of the many traits she could grudgingly admit they shared. ”Time for your nap, princess.”

Fun as it was to go wild on Storm’s face like this, it was dragging this out longer than she wanted - time was limited, and she wanted to get in two more good knockouts on this bitch before they were through. Maybe three. That meant she needed to get serious and finish her off, but it didn’t mean she couldn't have more fun.

With Storm temporarily cowed, Wendy went to work, spreading her legs out wider and letting more of her fullweight drop on Storm’s face, spreading her flesh wide to create a perfect seal over the airholes. She reached forward, grabbed two handfuls of brown, Scottish hair, and pulled her face in as she thrust forward, making sure to get as much contact as possible.

Slow, powerful thrusts. Not as painful now, but far better for smothering. More intimate, too, and Wendy through her head back and moaned louder with each punishing press, her breaths growing ragged, her eyes watering. ”Oh, fuck. Fuck yes…”

She was on the verge. Whether Storm would still be awake when she popped, she didn’t know. Didn’t care too much, either.

[hamish1024]

Oh, god, the bitch was enjoying this. Like, really enjoying this. The painful pin was one thing, the lack of oxygen pretty awful too, but the worst thing, from Storm’s position, was having to look up at Wendy’s smug, dominant face, as she lewdly, violently ground herself into Storm’s nose and mouth.

Buried deep in thong, Storm could tell the smother was getting increasingly wet, and it wasn’t just sweat. Having Wendy’s juices ground relentlessly into her face was yet another indignity that the brunette was forced to take, imprisoned between those powerful thigs. She knew all too well how this sadist got off to causing this kind of gruelling suffering, Storm having been on the receiving end of it backstage, but now she was getting face-fucked in full view of the fans. The mortified Scotswoman wanted to scream with rage, and she tried to force a muffled screech as Wendy patted her patronisingly on the head. Storm had been reduced to a smother toy here, and her opponent was quite literally rubbing it in.

“Mgpgphhh!!” A final, desperate, stifled wail of protest from the bottom girl, as the all-controlling Wendy moved in for the kill, shifting her weight forwards to give Storm an absolute, squashing face full of her. Her nose was numb with pain, pressed flat against Wendy’s dripping wet, sex-scented thong. Rough, angry hands snaking into her short brown hair, pulling her face further between those thighs. Storm’s senses were reeling, the arena lights swirling as the oxygen-starved seat tried to endure this long, embarrassing ordeal. Jeers, catcalls, excitedly feral moans from Wendy. Lungs burning. Darkness flickering around the edge of her consciousness. An ominous quivering in her captor’s body, and a final, firm thrust, before a hot stickiness gripped Storm’s squashed, smothered features.

The floored, flailing wrestler just about managed to register the final indignity – that she had taken a heavy, public orgasm to the face – before her world went black, and her frame went limp.

[BlackAkuma]

”Fuckfuckfuck-”

Wendy’s cries devolved into muttering moans as she continued to grind along Storm’s face, savoring every contact, dragging the ordeal out for maximum pleasure. It was an ecstatic pleasure, rapturous, the best she’d had in a long time, if ever, and it wasn’t just because she was riding a face - she did that often enough. No, this was the thrill she could only get from a fight, a real fight, of getting one over on someone who could’ve done the same to her if she’d messed up. She was a gladiator in the coliseum, standing triumphant over her fallen foe as the crowd showered her in admiration, a lioness roaring over her fresh kill.

And Wendy Winston did roar. As she reached her peak and let it all out over Storm’s face, she the her head back and let out an Amazon’s war cry, a hoarse cry that shook her whole body as wave after wave swept through. She came down from the high with shivers and shakes, and it took her a moment to even bother looking down at her opponent.

Yup. She was out. Perfect.

With a deep, satisfied sigh, Wendy stood up and sashayed her way towards the corner, giving Storm a spiteful kick in the side as she went. She retreated to the corner and dropped down a single knee so she could start unlacing her boots, slipping one off, then the other, while she watched the referee try to wake her opponent up. She kicked them out of the ring, then stood straight up and peeled her sweaty top off, with the shorts ging the same way right after. By the time Storm woke back up, Wendy would be down to her electric blue thong bikini, one that showed off her fulsome features, in perfect comparison with the Scotswoman. As much as she loved her signature look, she wanted the next facesit she had to be a full facial, to let her bare cheeks engulf Storm’s mortified face. Every inch.

Gleeful and smiling, she leaned against the turnbuckle and waited for her opponent to come back to the land of the living, eager to see her reaction.

[hamish1024]

Storm was oblivious as Wendy dismounted with a contemptuous kick to her ribs. The Scot was out cold, sprawled on the canvas, flushed and dishevelled, her short hair a mess and her features sticky and glistening from the lewd facial forced on her.

After a few long moments, where no doubt her rival and the watching fans enjoyed the sight of her utter defeat, Storm’s brain began to stir back to consciousness, with a painful lurching jolt.

“Ughhh…” the floored girl groaned, as the groggy pain of a smother recovery gripped her head, an all-too-familiar discomfort.

She rubbed her temple as her eyes fluttered open and she tried to get her bearings. Her mouth felt dry, but tasted of pussy. Grimacing, she propped herself up and spat to the side, but it barely helped. The deep, shameful feeling of being used still clung to her. She gingerly dabbed at her aching nose, squashed from the smother, and found it slick with sweat and sex. Storm scowled as she realised the scent of this humiliation would be stuck in her nostrils for hours, if not days.

She punched the canvas in wordless frustration, and tried to focus. This had been a fucking awful start to the match, for sure, but the fact that it was multi-fall gave her a lifeline to cling on to. Time was against her now, though, and this would be an uphill battle.

Focus. First things first, get back on your feet. The groaning Scot hauled herself upright on quivering, unsteady legs. She staggered to her corner and snatched up a waterbottle, swigging in vain to alleviate her disgusting, dry mouth. Still reeling, Storm actually slapped her own face to try and force herself awake, and only then turned to appraise her opponent.

Ugh, yup. Horrifically smug, just as Storm had feared. What was more surprising, though, was the discarded costume and boots, leaving the voluptuous Wendy in just her bikini. Undeniably, it was an eye-catching sight, though the seething Storm was less enamoured than the clamouring fans.

“You wanna go woman to woman huh? Fine,” Storm snarled through gritted teeth. Not one to let a challenge go unanswered, she kicked her own boots off. Of course, the scantily-clad Scot had much less undressing to do, already in a scandalously small black bikini, and she would take a final swig of water before padding forwards on bare feet, raising her muscular arms up in readiness for a grapple. Getting roughly ridden in the first fall may well have dulled her edge, but Storm tried not to think about that – she needed to beat this bitch multiple times now, and would have to find a way of doing it, not only for the match, but for her damaged pride.