Strength from Numbers: S+M vs. Arlise Christiaens

[Winter]

Arlise found herself in a familiar position.

No, not the position with her face smashed against Sabine's invitingly ample breast, though she could not deny the familiarity of that position, either. The position where her body battled with her mind battled with her emotions, and all of them formed into an unreadable ball that left the Belgian beauty compliant and indecisive. Her mind wanted to take the fight to Sabine - her back had recovered enough with the passing of moments that logic convinced her she could unhinge herself from the more similarly-sized redhead pulling her across the room. Her emotions crashed like waves, somewhere between frustration and admiration and disdain for herself and... whatever else, emotions she could not read nor did she want to.

Her body happily drank from the cup that Sabine offered. Her lips quivered against the flesh of the woman's ti and her feet only faintly resisted the woman's attempts to haul her across the room, putting up a mockery of defiance at best. Her hands, which she could use freely, barely participated, one almost massaging a particularly intriguing muscle in the other woman's bare side and the other trying to wriggle between her jaw and Sabine's arm. Neither accomplished anything, and with the way pressure, both cold and warm, built in her core as she saw the oncoming bed, her body won the battle, getting what it wanted.

Arlise offered her best defense only once they had reached the bed - she attempted to turn and put both hands on Sabine's side to shove her onto the bed with the Belgian beauty in tow if need be. Sabine acted first, however, and Arlise didn't have the leverage or the room to stop the woman from pulling her onto her toes and then off her feet entirely. The dim lights of the room flipped through her vision, only to be snuffed out by her face hitting the mattress. She grunted into it before rolling over onto her back, and while the bed offered cushion, her back didn't love all the movement.

The pain and Arlise's arching against that pain provided Sabine the window she needed. Arlise had no defense to stop the woman's weight from weighing atop her and eliciting a whine, and by the time she started to lift her hands, the woman had hold of both wrists and pinned them over her head, summoning a fresh touch of dampness between Titania's legs. Another joined as the woman's legs split hers apart, and Arlise almost let the first outright aroused moan escape her lips. She stifled it with a gasp as she strained, revealing the muscles beneath the soft curves, and tried to force Sabine off the top of her.

She... couldn't. Not because... the ballooning breasts and nipples against her felt wonderful. Not because she forgot the pleasure of having her arms pinned and overpowered. Not because her crotch panged with pain from the grapevine stretch and excitement from Sabine's wandering thigh both. Not because she loved a good kiss on the neck. She couldn't... let any of that act as a factor. She had to learn today.

It took an outright exhausting effort, but her straining turned manic, and she did free one arm. She used it to try and pull Sabine's face into her cleavage, the one counter she could even think to muster. "Not yet... not...", she uttered, breathlessly, clearly already there despite those words.

[BlackAkuma]

‘The human heart in conflict with itself is the only thing worth writing about’.

While Sabine wouldn’t completely agree with William Faulkner’s quote - she’d enjoyed many stories where that wasn’t even close to the focus - she could see the sense of it. There was something about the mental struggle that was so easily relatable, so fascinating to watch, that she couldn't help but be captivated by it. She suspected it was part of the reason she became a dominatrix, aside from the sheer kinkiness of it. In the privacy of a dungeon, people showed sides of themselves that they didn’t know they had. Sabine knew some of her clients better than their family members.

She suspected much was the same with Arlise. The woman had all the telltale signs - the hesitation, the bated breath, the quivering. She was at war with herself, struggling to ignore her body’s cravings, and Sabine was just making it so much more difficult, wasn’tshe?

Good.

She was on top now, controlling her, grinding and gyrating as the woman writhed beneath her. Her lips went higher and higher, savoring every touch, as she grew addicted to the Belgian’s taste. She could feel her opponent’s power beneath her, feel her trying to fight - if she wanted to, she could likely get free and pose Sabine a real challenge. Her body was mostly healed, she was a strong woman, she had all the tools…but they were useless without the will to employ them.

To her credit, she did manage a small burst of offense, taking Sabine off guard as she pulled her face into her breasts, but that only made the German chuckle - if this was her best play, then she was surely doomed. Yes, there was a notable lack of air in her foe’s chest, but that would only be a problem in a few moments. In the meantime, her mouth would run wild on Arlise’s tender flesh, nipping and nibbling and gnawing at it, stimulating her even further, all while she ground down harder and faster.

All the while, Morrigan began to stalk around the bed, rubbing her chest as she watched the display. ”Hey, Sab?” She chewed her lip and cocked her head to the side, enjoying it from every angle. ”You better hurry up. I’m thinking about getting in on this.”