Safiyah Neferet vs. Aspasia El-Shenawy - Dance of the Serpents

[BlackAkuma]

To think, Asp had gone her whole life without getting headbutted until this very moment. Oh, what she’d been missing.

Her skull was pounding with the worst headache, one she was certain would not be dissipating until she returned home and took a few pain relievers. She ran her hands over her forehead and gently touched the spot of impact - no skin had been broken, and it didn’t feel like anything had been fractured, but one could never be too sure. More than anything, she was trying to piece together what had actually happened.

Had that been on purpose? It was hard to imagine she would stoop to such a move. LAW tended to have lax rules and enforcement, but she was fairly sure such things were still illegal. The best she could do was wage it off to an accident, though quite a powerful accident to make. Judging from the crowd’s random muttering, she wasn’t the only one confused.

It didn’t much matter, in the end - the end result, either way, was her lying on the floor, feeling like someone had taken a hammer to her head. She just needed to get up, make some distance from her opponent, and hopefully-

Hope evaporated quickly as she sensed movement nearby - Safiyah was on the attack, looking to make the most of the window she’d made. As she began to sit up and look to the side, figuring the attack would come from her flanks, but a darkening sky told her that wasn’t the case. No, this attack was coming from above, as Safiyah flipped over her and brought her foot down at an unorthodox angle. When Asp realized what was happening, it was already too late. Safiyah’s foot collided with her face, reigniting all the pain that the headbutt had caused.

She was planted, again, and this time she wasn’t moving much. She lay there in a daze, staring off into his space, her body a disheveled and destroyed wreck.

[Lightman]

Safiyah landed with catlike grace. Soon as that fang struck her compatriot, her lower body flicked back, landing on her feet. With the back facing the dishevelled body of Asp, her body still humming with the rush of adrenaline. She had felt the satisfying impact of her foot meeting Asp’s face, the jarring shockwave that rippled through her opponent’s body as she was driven back down to the canvas. The sight before her was a gratifying one—Asp sprawled on the mat, motionless save for the subtle rise and fall of her chest, eyes glassy and unfocused.

She had her.

The crowd’s energy crackled around them, voices merging into a chaotic symphony of cheers and gasps. Safiyah let the sound wash over her, but her focus remained locked on the woman beneath her, her mind calculating, assessing, considering her next move. She could feel the thrum of satisfaction beneath her skin, the primal thrill of dominance returning after having it wrested away from her before.

This was the moment to capitalise, to press her advantage before Asp could recover. A pinfall would not end this match, but it would bring her one step closer to victory, and she intended to take it.

With deliberate movement, she lowered herself, shifting her weight over Asp’s prone body. Her thighs brushed against the woman’s shoulders as she slid forward, positioning herself directly above her opponent’s face. Her toned legs framed Asp’s dazed features, her body casting a shadow over the woman beneath her. A somewhat satisfied, yet dark smirk played at the corner of Safiyah’s lips as she hovered for just a moment, letting anticipation build—letting Asp feel what was coming.

Then she descended.

Her hips lowered, pressing down firmly, attempting to claim her opponent in a smothering pin. Her muscles tensed, her core tightening to maintain balance, to keep herself steady as she sought to trap Asp beneath her. She could feel the warmth of her breath against her skin, the faint twitch of muscles beneath her, and she knew she had to be ready—Asp was too clever, too resilient to stay down for long.

Safiyah placed her hands on her thighs, grounding herself, bracing for whatever came next. This was her moment to seize control, but she also knew better than to assume victory too soon. For now, she held her position, focused on getting ahead of the Water Serpent.

“1!”

[BlackAkuma]

Asp couldn't move. Not much at all, really.

Her body was simply not used to processing trauma like this, as if the headbutt had forced some sort of hard reset to her entire system. Her brain told her limbs to move, but all they did was helplessly slide around in a weak pantomime, bringing no real energy to the table. She tried to sit up, only for a wave of fatigue to come over her and force her back down.

She knew this would pass - while she hadn't experienced anything like this before, she’d seen other wrestlers in similar situations. ‘Flash knockouts’, they called it. A lucky hit at the right time, landing in exactly the right way, that put someone down far faster than anyone would’ve expected. Most of the time they recovered fast enough, and if they were lucky enough they could do so before their opponent could capitalize.

As Asp looked up and saw Safiyah’s mismatched gaze upon her, though, she knew that no such courtesy would be afforded to her. There was intent in those blazing eyes.

Asp was making another attempt at sitting up when the woman came down on her, forcing her back to the mat. She wasn’t all that heavy, neither of them were, but even a lightweight wrestler might as well have been a Yokozuna to her. There was no way she was pushing her off.

But, as it turned out, that was the least of her worries, a fact she sussed out as Safiyah’s magnificent ass hovered over her. Asp shook her head and looked up with disbelief, scarcely believing it was about to happen. ”Wait, don’t-”

She did. Safiyah sat and covered Asp’s face in a dark, smothering heat. It wasn’t uncomfortable - those cheeks were soft, pliable, and inviting. But they were also deceptively dangerous, creating a perfect seal over her features that left her gasping. All she could do was moan and mewl, as the referee’s hand came down once, then twice.

”2…!”

Asp’s body went slack after that, knowing there was little point in wasting her energy right now. With Safiyah on top, she needed to conserve her energy and only use it in the smartest ways. With her opponent’s pussy so close, that didn't take much imagination.

”3…!”

The referee called it and the bell rang, signifying Safiyah’s half-victory, to a mixed reaction from the crowd. But even as that happened, Asp began her counterattack in the shadows, as her tongue shot out and began to slither between the woman’s legs, stimulating with enticing licks.

[Lightman]

"Shhh."

Safiyah sat poised atop Asp’s helpless frame, the weight of her body pressing down with an undeniable finality. The moment was hers; the victory was close to being fully secured, and yet, the pulse of adrenaline in her veins did not slow—it only burned hotter, fuelled by the undeniable awareness of what lay beneath her.

Her breath was steady, measured, her chest rising and falling with controlled precision as she remained seated atop her conquered opponent. She could feel Asp’s body beneath her—soft, warm, helpless. There was no struggle, no resistance, just the slow, accepting stillness of a woman who knew she had lost this round.

The mismatched gaze flickered downward, drinking in the sight of her opponent—Asp, utterly subdued, her body limp beneath her, a stark contrast to the energy she had wielded so effortlessly earlier in the match. ["That's right, habibti. Just lie back and let it happen."] She couldn't help it. The sound of the last count rang through the air, but Safiyah was not naïve enough to believe this battle was over.

Asp was not the type to surrender, not in the way that mattered. Her body may have stilled, but Safiyah could feel the undercurrent of something lurking beneath the surface, something waiting, something calculated. And yet, for all her instincts and precision, she had not been prepared for what came next.

The first sensation was subtle, barely more than a whisper of warmth against her core, so soft that she might have imagined it—until it came again. A flicker of wet heat, sinuous and slow, teasing with a languid expertise that sent a sharp gasp tumbling from Safiyah’s lips before she could suppress it. Her fingers twitched against her thighs, gripping at the supple flesh there as her breath caught in her throat.

A sharp pulse of pleasure lanced through her abdomen, unexpected and impossible to ignore. She had expected a struggle, had braced for a desperate attempt to buck her off, to throw her from her perch. But this? This was something far more dangerous, something far more insidious.

Asp was not fighting back in the conventional sense—she was retaliating in the way she knew best, in the way that had won her countless moments of control in matches like this before. The same tongue that had whispered honeyed taunts earlier now coiled between Safiyah’s legs, a wickedly deft instrument that sent shivers up her spine and threatened to unmake her composure entirely.

Safiyah bit down hard on her lower lip, her hands tightening against her thighs as she fought to maintain her composure. But it was slipping—already. The bluenette could feel the muscles in her legs trembling, the heat coiling low in her stomach, an ember on the verge of bursting into flame. She had thought herself prepared for anything Asp could throw at her, but she had underestimated just how devious, how utterly relentless the woman beneath her could be.

Her breathing grew shallow, each exhale tinged with an unwilling moan as the pleasure intensified, as the tables turned in a way she had not expected. Safiyah’s body was betraying her, the insistent, teasing ministrations forcing her hips to shift, a motion she barely controlled, pressing her down further into the touch she had not asked for but now could not ignore.

This was dangerous. This was exhilarating.

Safiyah’s fingers dug into her thighs, her nails biting into her own skin as she struggled to regain control, to remind herself that this battle isn’t yet over. But with every stroke, every deliberate flick of Asp’s tongue, she knew she was walking on a razor’s edge—one misstep, one moment too long in hesitation, and she would fall.

She had to act. Now.

[BlackAkuma]

Asp might have only just met Safiyah, but she felt she could draw a few conclusions about the woman, even from their short interaction. She seemed like a proud type. Proud of her heritage, which she blatantly showcased in her attire. Proud of her body, the fulsome figure that could scarcely have been more revealed. Proud in her strength and technique, which she showcased with every movement.

She had every reason to be, naturally. She was an exquisite woman, easily one of the most alluring Asp had come across in LAW, and she wished the two of them could know each other in a more private setting when this was through. She imagined them sitting a coffee lounge, exchanged experiences over some overpriced tea, and the thought enticed her almost as much as the idea of sharing a bed with her.

But this was not the coffee lounge. This was the ring, and as their match stretched towards its final conclusion, there was no room for such notions. She needed to bring this to a close.

With one fall each, they were on even ground. The only difference was that Safiyah was in a position of apparent strength, being on top of the conquered Asp. Apparent being the keyword, as the Water Serpent was the one who had her folds within striking distance. Her tongue lashed out, and went to work.

This was a gamble. She had already seen how powerful Safiyah’s legs were, and it would be all too easy for her to simply roll over, pull her head in between her thighs, and crank the pressure up to absurd levels. She could’ve knocked Asp out and, from there, won in any way she pleased. It was entirely possible for an unconscious person to have an orgasm.

But she didn’t. Instead, Asp felt her sinking into it, giving into her lust and falling into her trap. She might regain her senses in a moment, before the orgasm, but if Asp had her way, she would never had her chance. She hadn't been doing this just to lull Safiyah into a false sense of security and sexually stimulate her, but also to buy herself time while she recovered, enough to make a final strike. Now, as her tongue danced between her foe’s folds, it was her time.

Up came Asp’s legs, one of them circling over her shoulder from behind while the other slipped under her armpit, meeting in the middle and crossing into a figure-four. She pulled Safiyah, back, rocked forward, and locked her opponent in a tight figure-four variation of the triangle choke, powering down on her with all the power she could muster. At the same time, she kept her lips pressed to the woman’s pussy and began to work at a fever pitch, lapping and licking away to spur her on, knowing that a climax had to be close.

Just a little more, and then…

[Lightman]

Safiyah had never felt so utterly consumed. Her body caught between the raging storm of pleasure and the unyielding grip of Asp’s cunning. She had known, deep down, that this match would never be just about strength or technique. Asp had made that clear from the moment their bodies first clashed, from the first teasing brush of lips, the first intoxicating whisper. This was a battle not just of dominance, but of desire, a war waged on the very precipice of ecstasy.

And now she was losing.

She had sensed the danger, had known the risk the moment Asp’s tongue worked its magic. But she had underestimated her. Underestimated how quickly the pleasure would mount, how expertly her opponent wielded her touch. Every flick, every teasing stroke, was a precise strike to the very core of her control, each one chipping away at the walls she had so carefully built around herself. Her body betrayed her, hips rolling instinctively into the sensation, her breath breaking into soft, desperate gasps.

She needed to move. To break free. To reclaim herself before it was too late.

But then, it was too late.

Asp’s legs coiled around her like twin pythons, wrapping tight, unforgiving, deceptively strong. The power in those limbs was unlike anything Safiyah had expected, a raw, unrelenting force that seized her neck. Smoothly and expertly, Asp moved, locking in a devastating inverted triangle choke before Safiyah could react. In an instant, the power dynamic shifted. Where once she had been the one on top, pressing her advantage, now she’s trapped, caught in an inescapable vice that stole her breath, her strength, her control.

Panic flared, wild and unrestrained, but it was short-lived, overwhelmed by the relentless waves of pleasure that surged through her. The hold kept her firmly in place, unable to twist away, unable to fight back, leaving her completely at Asp’s mercy. And Asp did not relent. The redhead’s tongue worked with fevered urgency, pushing her further, faster, towards the edge she had fought so desperately to avoid.

A sharp cry tore from the bluenette’s lips as Asp’s tongue continued its relentless work, every flick and swirl of it sending white-hot pleasure racing through her veins. Her thighs tensed, her back arched, her body betraying her with every shudder and quiver. She wanted to fight. She needed to fight. But the pleasure was blinding, suffocating in its intensity, drowning out every coherent thought and leaving her lost in sensation.

Safiyah’s hands instinctively reached for Asp’s thighs, fingers clawing, grasping, trying to pry them apart, but there was no leverage, no weakness to exploit. The vice-like squeeze cut into her throat, stealing her breath, making every pulse of pleasure more unbearable. Her breath hitched, her thighs clenched, her entire body trembling violently as the pressure within her built to unbearable levels. She could feel the end looming, hovering just out of reach, an inevitable tidal wave she had no hope of resisting.

"P-please…" The word barely escaped her lips, a weak, breathless gasp that carried no conviction.

And then…It hit.

A strangled gasp wrenched from her throat as the climax overtook her, a seismic eruption of heat and pleasure that sent her spiralling into oblivion. Her body convulsed, her muscles seizing in exquisite agony, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over her like an unrelenting storm. Her heterochromatic eyes fluttered, rolling back as she lost herself completely to the sensation, a deep, shuddering moan escaping her lips as her world shattered apart.

For what felt like an eternity, she remained suspended on that peak, trapped in the throes of pleasure, so intense it blurred the edges of consciousness. Her fingers clenched and released, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as she finally descended, her body collapsing into a quivering, spent heap atop Asp. And with the last remnants of her strength, she tapped weakly against Asp’s thigh, surrendering to the inevitable.

[BlackAkuma]

There.

This might have been the first time in her entire life where Asp felt bad giving someone an orgasm - at least a little. Aside from the headbutt and the occasional twinge of friction, she thought things had gone remarkable well between them in this match, with respecting the woman’s prowess and finding an equal in her, if not a superior in some respects.

She could feel the desperation in her struggles as she was pulled back into the hold, the despair in her voice as she cried for mercy. While Asp gave her unmatched pleasure, she could only imagine how this felt, to have her moment of triumph snatched away so suddenly. This match could’ve gone either way, and if the two of them fought again, she wouldn’t be surprised if her countrywoman took the victory.

But that day was not today. This day belonged to Asp.

Safiyah’s orgasm was, much like the woman herself, truly magnificent, a violent eruption of lust that left her body dancing in Asp’s grasp. She had to tense her legs to keep the hold secure, and even then, she threatened to break her way out as her spasms grew out of control. She tensed up, reached a painful height, then came down all at once as the postcoital bliss eased her body.

The referee called for the bell, just as Safiyah started tapping, though Asp had already begun unwrapping her legs to avoid hurting her foe any more than necessary. Triumphant, the Water Serpent stood and accepted the referee’s hand, letting her raise it high as the crowd’s cheers flooded in. For both of them, she imagined, though it was impossible to tell. Even in LAW, contests like this were a rarity, and they had to appreciate them.

Asp enjoyed the moment, then brought her hand away and extended it towards the downed Safiyah, offering to help her rise. [“Thank you for the excellent contest, habibti. I greatly look forward to challenging you again someday.”] She threw a shy, wild wink. [“Though I believe the outcome will be much the same.”]

A playful taunt, to cap things off with.

[Lightman]

The aftershocks of pleasure still coursed through Safiyah’s motionless body, leaving her limbs weak, her breath unsteady. Every nerve was alight, tingling with the remnants of an orgasm so intense it had momentarily shattered her world. For a brief, fleeting moment, she could do nothing but lie there, her chest rising and falling in an erratic rhythm, her vision hazy as the roaring of the crowd barely registered in her ears.

And then the weight of reality came crashing down. She had lost.

Again.

The referee’s call was final, the bell’s chime a cruel punctuation to her failure. Her muscles twitched, her body still recovering from the afterglow, but her mind was already racing, already descending into that familiar pit of despair. The weight of it settled deep in her chest, a suffocating presence that stole what little breath she had left. Third straight loss. Third time watching someone else’s hand raised in victory. Third time being told—by the universe, by fate—that she wasn’t enough.

Her heterochromatic eyes flickered open, staring up at the blurred lights overhead as the humiliation set in. She had been so close. She had felt the match within her grasp, had nearly sealed Asp’s fate beneath her. And yet, with one ultimate act of brilliance, her opponent had stolen it all away. Not just the victory—but the pride, the moment, the satisfaction. And worst of all, she had done it with a smirk. With teasing, knowing confidence.

Safiyah barely registered Asp standing over her until she felt the woman’s presence beside her. She turned her head, still struggling to piece herself together, only to see a hand extended towards her—a gesture of sportsmanship, of goodwill, of condescension. And then came the words.

The words alone would have been tolerable. She could have swallowed her pride, accepted the offer, left with her dignity mostly intact. But then—

The playful wink. The casual, careless arrogance behind it. The implication that this wasn’t a true rivalry, that Asp already saw the future and knew it would unfold the same way, again and again.

Something inside Safiyah snapped, the last fragile thread of restraint Safiyah had left.

The exhaustion, shame, and fragile veneer of control she had held onto shattered in an instant, replaced by something raw and furious. Her fingers curled into fists, and nails dug into her palms as the surrounding air seemed to shift. The heat in her chest was no longer the remnants of passion but the fire of sheer, unrelenting rage.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, her body still trembling, but now for a different reason entirely. A slow tremor ran through her body, her breath hitching as her jaw clenched tight. Something inside her snapped, a tidal wave of frustration, sorrow, and unyielding fury crashing over her all at once. This wasn’t just another loss—this was a crack in her pride, a wound carved into her very essence. Safiyah could not—would not—accept it. She had lost, yes—but she would not be pitied. She would not be mocked. And she would not let this moment be remembered as one where she simply accepted defeat.

Asp’s outstretched hand lingered in the air before Safiyah took the hand, accepting reality. That was, until she yanked Asp towards her, sending another headbutt. One harsher than the last one.

[BlackAkuma]

Asp, frankly, could not have been more pleased with this result. While winning in LAW was a distant second priority to simply having fun and enjoying her competitors, this was more than just another win. It was confirmation that she hadn't been wasting her time with Sophia for the past few months, that she had made real improvements. Not only in her physical body, but with her mindset. Her reflexes were sharper, and her movements were fluid. The woman she was when she first joined would not have been able to overcome Safiyah, but what she was now could pass that test.

For the first time, she felt less like a belly dancer who pro wrestled and more like a pro wrestler who belly dances, and she had Safiyah to thank for that. She would not have reached that lofty height if the woman hadn't pushed her so hard and given her such a challenge. The hand she extended to Safiyah was not one born of pity, but respect. Fate had sent her the perfect opponent, and she was grateful.

But something was wrong.

Asp would not call herself an expert at body language - she doubted such a thing was even real - but, through her profession, she had come to read people well enough that she could often see the truth they were trying to hide. They gave tells away, little things that might not be noteworthy to most but screamed to her. The subtle shift of a body, poised to strike. The tensing of muscles. The shifting of a jaw.

They all told her to be on alert and wary, but she ignored the signs. Safiyah was her countrywoman, they respected each other and understood their origins. She might be a touch angry, but those feelings would cease when Asp embraced her as a friend. Safiyah took her hand, and for a moment, everything seemed right. Asp even moved in, looking to embrace her friend with a hug. Perhaps more.

Instead, she was given a headbutt. A deliberate one, she suspected.

The crowd gasped as Asp stumbled away, running a hand over her forehead. She stepped back once, then twice, then fell over flat on her back, looking much the same as the last time. All the pain from before came flooding back, with so much more thanks to the repeated trauma. [“Habib…hab…”] She muttered the term of endearment as she looked up at Safiyah through watering eyes. ”What are you doing?”

[Lightman]

The sharp crack of her forehead colliding with Asp’s sent a jolt of pain through Safiyah’s skull, but it was a small price to pay. She barely felt it, or perhaps she did and simply did not care. Anger, raw and seething, drowned out reason and anything else. The moment Asp had extended her hand, so kind, so magnanimous, it had only solidified the unbearable weight pressing down on her pride. The shock in Asp’s watering eyes, the way she staggered and collapsed, the confused, broken words that slipped from her lips—served to stoke the fire raging inside Safiyah’s chest.

Asp had extended a hand, spoken words of respect, but to Safiyah, it all rang hollow. Every moment of their battle had been real, every second spent testing their limits, pushing one another to the brink, but the aftermath? This was humiliation. To stand there, victorious, offering her hand like some benevolent goddess descending to bestow pity? It was no different than every other loss, every other opponent who had smiled down at her while she lay broken at their feet.

She was sick of it.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms as her breath came in ragged pulls. The image of Asp standing there, confident, offering kindness like it was hers to give—it burned in Safiyah’s mind, twisting into something ugly, something unbearable. She had fought too hard, endured too much, to be made into a spectacle yet again.

“Shut up.”

With a sharp inhale, she moved. No hesitation, no second-guessing. She surged forward, her body a blur of motion fueled by frustration and unrelenting pride. The pain in her skull was nothing, insignificant compared to the inferno roaring inside her. She refused to let this end with her lying on the mat, playing the gracious loser. She refused to let Asp walk away thinking she had earned her respect.

She didn’t want her respect. She wanted retribution.

Straddling onto the bare abdomen of Asp, with both legs on either side, both blue and gold burned in a inferno, with the redhead being the sole target. Her muscles coiled, her movements precise yet wild, driven by sheer emotion. Her hand shot forward, fingers curled into a tightened fist, aimed straight for Asp’s face. And again. And again. Countless times, in fact. She didn’t care if the crowd gasped, or if she's a fellow countrywoman. All that mattered was wiping that look of pity from Asp’s face, making her understand the depth of her mistake.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Safiyah was not some stepping stone. She was not some lesson for others to learn from. And she would make damn sure Asp never forgot it.

“SHUT UP!"